‘Go quickly,’ said Stefano. ‘Is not safe here. Go.’

James was confused and alarmed, but Stefano was so insistent that he knew he had to do what he asked. After all, Stefano was his only hope of getting away from here.

He threw a loop of rope over the edge, pulled it taut, then lay on his belly and lowered himself over the side backwards until he was able to get his feet against the wall and walk down it. His fingers were bruised and sore from the fight and the rope burnt as it slipped through them, but he tried to ignore the pain.

He came to the first window. It was dark and the shutters were closed. He stood on the ledge and rested, looking up. He had come about 12 feet; the next window was roughly the same distance again.

It struck him that getting down was relatively easy. Climbing back up again was going to be much harder work.

Best not to think about that.

He carried on, playing out the rope slowly and feeling his way down the wall with his feet.

In a minute he had arrived at the second window.

He settled on to the ledge, undid the knot at his waist, shortened the rope and retied it so that there was no slack above him.

The room wasn’t lit, but the shutters were open. He couldn’t climb in, though, because there was a single vertical bar in the narrow opening. He peered past it. It was too dark to see anything, but he sensed a movement.

‘Hello?’ he said, feeling very foolish. ‘Hello? Is there anybody there?’

Nothing. The sound of crickets chirruping on the hillside.

‘Hello…?’

Still nothing.

He was about to give up and go when he heard a rustle.

‘Hello?’ he repeated, and after a while a voice answered him, quiet and unsure.

‘Hello?’ It was an English voice. A female voice. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at the window,’ said James and in a moment he saw the face of a girl looming out of the darkness.

19

19

Déjà vu

She had short, untidy hair cut raggedly into uneven clumps, pale, freckled skin and big eyes that were shining in the dark. She looked at James as if she couldn’t believe he was actually there and put her hand out through the gap next to the bar. James held it for a moment.

‘You’re real,’ she said.

‘I think so,’ said James.

‘I thought I was dreaming,’ said the girl. ‘Who are you?’

‘The name’s Bond, James Bond. Who are you?’

‘I’m Amy Goodenough.’

James was so surprised he nearly fell off his perch.

‘Mark’s sister?’ he said.

‘You know who I am?’ she said, laughing with relief.

‘Yes,’ said James. ‘But what the hell are you doing here?’

Amy quickly told him everything, from her capture at sea to being brought to the mountains.