He spied the door on this side of the house. It was a heavy wood panel door with the original glass boarded over, surrounded by a porch with a flat roof. Knowing how these places were protected, there could possibly be an inner door of steel or wire mesh to thwart easy access by the police. Next he checked the windows. They were boarded over as well. He’d need a crowbar to pry his way inside. So he didn’t bother with either. He stuffed his weapons in his belt, then jumped and grabbed at the roofline, swinging up and onto the porch roof. From there it was an easy jump up to the actual roof of the house, and he clambered up the eave so that he was on the roof’s apex. From there he had a panoramic view of the surrounding streets. They were as deserted as a ghost town as people with better sense hid themselves from harm.

Ordinarily, houses that proved impregnable at the ground level were never as heavily fortified against an attack from above and Rickard was counting on this being true here. He readied himself, gripping tightly as he prepared to swing down and kick his way through the small crawl space window he’d noticed earlier.

He took a deep breath, as though about to dive into deep water. Then, in the next instant, he let it out again. He straightened up, staring in disbelief at the car roaring along the street toward him.

Chapter 26

26

When the urge to get moving takes me I’ve no option but to obey. It didn’t matter that I had no firm plan of action in mind, just that there was yet another woman out there fleeing for her life from a maniac. I had to do something. I was sick of running away, or playing catch-up, and it was about time I put Rickard on the back foot for a change.

“I need some air. I’m coming with you.”

I didn’t argue with Rink. We come from the same school of thought and I knew that he felt exactly the same way as I did.

Harvey stayed behind. He was as good as any analyst that Walter had access to, and would be able to help the CIA men coordinate the search for Rickard from the hotel room. “If anything comes up, I’ll call,” he promised.

We took the Chrysler and went back to the office block where Ken Wetherby ran his operation. Wetherby wasn’t pleased to see us. His face had swollen where I’d given him the parting shot, but hadn’t begun to bruise yet. Maybe he thought I was going to give him a matching lump on the other side.

“Okay, take it easy, Wetherby. I’m not here for trouble this time.”