up.
Jazz held her breath as Stevie carefully stepped on, then over, the low, dangerous metal fence. He
looked down at her and smiled quickly, then jumped out of sight.
They heard him land, and Terence looked at her for a loaded moment. This was when they would
find out whether the nick was on or not. If they heard the noise of barking dogs, running men, or Stevie
involved in a struggle, they would know to run. If there was no sound at all, they would climb.
"Bromwell out!" they heard from around the corner, the chants intermingled with some colorfully
obscene language. From over the wall, nothing.
"Go," Terence said.
Jazz leaped nimbly onto the BT box, grabbed the trail-ing sleeve of Stevie's jacket, and hauled herself
up. She stepped over the low fence atop the wall and jumped, land-ing with knees bent, rolling to the right
and coming up in a crouch. She scanned the area quickly. They'd landed among some trees, just as planned,
and she saw Stevie's shadow be-neath the canopy a dozen feet away. He was staring through the
undergrowth and across a wide well-maintained lawn at the house.
Terence landed lightly beside her. He'd held on to the jacket sleeve as he jumped, bringing it over to
this side of the wall. This was just one of their potential escape routes.
There was a plastic box fitted to the wall here, a thick black cable duct protruding from its base and
sinking into the ground. Terence gave it one good kick and the cover broke and fell away. There was a
spaghetti of colored wires inside, junction points and circuit boards, and a knot of wires almost as thick as
Jazz's wrist snaked through a hole in the wall to the Telecom unit outside.
Terence took a pair of heavy pliers from the small bag over his shoulder.
"How do you know which ones to cut?" Jazz asked.
"Only one." He snipped a white wire, then took out a small device from his pocket. He checked its
batteries, turned it on, and nodded in satisfaction when it emitted a short beep. There was a forest of wires
protruding from the device, each ending in a small crocodile clip. Terence stripped the cut wire, connected
both ends into the unit, and began stripping plastic and attaching clips to other wires in the bundle. He
worked quickly, almost randomly, but Jazz knew there was nothing random about this. She could see the
concentration on his face as he worked.
"There," he said after a minute. "Should give us a bit of time."
He and Jazz knelt beside Stevie. From beneath the trees they had a good view of the side of the
large house. To the left were the two black cars, but the people who'd been milling around were now down
closer to the front gate, still out of range of the eggs and fruit but forming a protective semicircle in case
one of the protesters climbed in. To their right, at the rear of the house, stood a large conservatory with
timber decking built all around. The double glass doors were open and there was no movement inside.
Between them and the house, the garden was spotted with several large flower beds, mostly planted
with mature roses growing on frames. Plenty of cover.
"No dogs," Terence said.
"Not that we can see," Stevie replied.
"They'd have let them out by now," Jazz said.
"Conservatory?" Stevie looked from Jazz to Terence, then back at the house.
"There'll be other entrances around the back," Terence said. "Let's see when we get there."
"Harry should be knocking off now," Jazz said, looking at her watch. It had been over three minutes
since he and the United Kingdom started their distraction, and if they were not careful they'd still be there
when the police arrived. Last thing anyone wanted was for them to be caught. But this was a dangerous job
—the most dangerous they'd ever pulled— and that called for extreme risks.
"I can just see them from here," Stevie said. "Harry's right at the gate. Think he's smiling. Maybe he
sees the punks that beat him up."
"And killed Cadge," Jazz said.
"Yeah, Cadge." Stevie did not turn around, but Jazz heard the break in his voice
"So let's get our own back," Terence said. He was the first to move, breaking cover and running
crouched over to the first planting bed. He glanced back quickly, looked around the shrubs, and ran on.
Stevie followed, and Jazz brought up the rear.
They had considered breaking in at night, but then all the security measures this house employed
would be in place. Floodlights in the garden, maybe patrolling security guards and dogs, contact alarms on
all the windows and doors,
| | |
|