“It was my first relationship with a woman. Her name was Alison. I kind of lost myself in it.”
Crowley was embarrassed to realize that his disappointment had already transformed to relief. She described a situation that didn’t preclude him and he was quite pleased about that. He shook himself mentally, throwing the thoughts away. It made no difference right now that she was attracted to men and he was a man sitting right here with her. The poor woman had just been attacked and the reasons for it were becoming potentially more sinister by the moment. “I guess I can understand that as well,” he said, for wont of something to say.
“You’re an understanding guy. Anyway, you don't want to hear my life story.” Rose stood. “Give me a minute.”
She disappeared into the bedroom and Crowley finished his tea while he waited. Her mug was empty, so he took them both to the kitchen, rinsed them, and turned them upside down on the draining board. Military training and neatness was encoded into his habits whether he liked it or not.
As he returned to his seat, Rose reappeared in a yoga pants and a baggy sweat top, carrying a laptop. Crowley sat quietly while she booted it up and tapped away for a few moments.
“The clinic was called The Holm Institute,” she said, forehead creasing in a frown as she read.
Crowley leaned forward, concerned by her expression. “What is it?”
“Found an article here. It says the clinic recently had a data breach.”
Crowley paused to think about that. “So if these guys are looking for you because of your birthmark, and they decided to hack into the records of a clinic that deals with birthmarks, they could have found your details there.”
“But why are they so interested in my birthmark?”
“I don’t know. Maybe for now, that’s not the relevant issue. It seems they are, and we need to know who they are first and foremost. If they’re likely to…” Crowley stopped, tipped his head to one side. Rose opened her mouth to speak and he held up one index finger to delay her.
Hairs tickled on the back of Crowley’s neck. Not only neatness was coded into his being, but awareness too. Years of training and months on the front lines of wars had hardened his senses into a state of sharp focus, something he couldn’t turn off. He raised one finger, catching Rose’s eye. She froze, her mouth opening slightly in fear.
A slight shadow moved in the line of light under the front door, the soft squeak of a shoe on the tiles outside, as of someone being deliberately sneaky in the hallway beyond. But not sneaky enough.
Crowley lowered his voice to a whisper. “Someone’s out there.”
Chapter 7
Crowley crept toward the front door, silent on Rose’s carpet. A small wooden rack sat near the wall with a selection of footwear in two neat rows. He lifted a pair of sneakers, handed them over, and made a gentle hurry up gesture. Eyes wide with fear, Rose quickly put them on and tied the laces.
As she worked, Crowley put an ear to the door. Hushed voices outside murmured, but too quietly for him to hear the words. The tone was all intent and tight purpose. More than enough for Crowley to decide he wasn’t being paranoid.
“Is there another way out?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
Rose was already on her feet. She grabbed her bag, slung it bandolier-style across her chest, and pointed to the kitchen. She headed for it and Crowley hurried after her. A small white table stood against one wall, opposite a stove, fridge and sink. Beside the table was a door. Rose reached for the handle just as a loud bang from the front room shattered the tension. Rose yelped in surprise as her front door slammed back against wall.
A man’s voice, harsh and loud, barked out. “Nobody move!”
At the same moment, Crowley yelled, “Run!” and spun back to face the intruders.
He was pleased to hear Rose pull the back door open as he grabbed one of the white wooden chairs from beside the kitchen table.
“Come on!” Rose said, her voice strained with panic.
Crowley judged his timing as well as he could. “I’m coming!” Then he ran at the kitchen door, holding the chair out in front of himself like a lion tamer. His timing was good, meeting the intruder right in the kitchen doorway. The chair legs rammed into the man’s arm, chest and face and Crowley threw his weight behind it, sent the intruder stumbling over backwards with a yelp of pain. The pistol in his hand boomed, but the bullet went high, bit a chunk of plaster from the wall above the cooker. Crowley slammed the kitchen door closed to buy them seconds, then bolted after Rose, slamming the back door behind him too.
Rose was already halfway down the cool gray concrete steps of the rear stairwell. Crowley hammered after her.
“Did he get you?” Rose called back. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. He missed.”
They swung on the banister to make the turn at the next floor at top speed when a bead of light appeared at the kitchen door of the flat below Rose’s. Crowley didn’t even pause. He ran at the wood, pushed it wide as he grabbed Rose by one arm and hauled her back to bring her with him.
A middle-aged man in a pale blue turban stumbled back into his kitchen, face crumpling into outrage.
“Don’t make a sound!” Crowley said, injecting as much pleading into his voice as he could. He closed the man’s door. “Lock that! Stay silent.”
The sound of Rose’s own back door came from above, banging back and echoing in the bare stairway. The turbaned man hurriedly locked his door, but Crowley was already moving, puling Rose along.
“We’re so sorry!” Rose said as she stumbled past the shocked resident.
She shook her arm free, ran close behind Crowley as they crossed the living room and Crowley pulled open the front door. They hurried out, Crowley throwing a last apologetic look back to the turbaned man, who stood with his mouth open in stunned confusion. Crowley quietly closed the man’s front door and Rose pointed to another door at the end of the hallway.
“Front stairs!” she said.
He nodded and followed, pleased she was so self-assured, so focused. She was clearly not the type to panic, immediately seeing his plan in the man’s flat, working with him smartly, pointing out stairs rather than running for the elevator. As they hurried down the stairs, Crowley nervously glanced up, hoping the intruders didn’t have anyone else in the building, waiting out front of Rose’s flat. He’d seen at least one other man inside as he’d attacked with the chair, but there had been three in the alley. Could there be another one up there? Or outside on the street?
They flew down level after level, taking two or three steps at a time, using the bannister for control. Crowley followed Rose, marveled at her pace and athleticism. She looked good, sure-footed at every turn.
“Where do the back stairs come out?” he asked.
“Alleyway, other side of the block. Bins and stuff back there.”
“So if they go all the way down, they’ll have to come right around the building to catch up?”
“Right. There’s a laneway almost directly opposite the front of this building. When we get out, run hard straight for it.” Rose allowed herself a glance back. “You won’t outrun me, so go hard. It’ll take us directly away from them.”
He saw fear in her eyes, but there was a fire of determination too. “You got it.”
They barreled out of the stairway, across the lobby and burst out of the front doors. Crowley braced for a fight, quickly scanning left and right for the possible third attacker, but no one waited for them. A couple walking hand in hand on the footpath jumped aside, startled, as Crowley and Rose pounded across the street between a slowly moving red bus and a white panel van coming the other way. A heavyset, shaven-headed man leaned out of the van window to yell abuse as they sprinted away, zigging left and right to enter the laneway Rose had mentioned.