A gust of wind sent the pillar of smoke from St. Joseph’s down to street level. Petrovitch took a chance and ran through the drifting cloud of soot and ash to the next corner, then across to the rose-pink edifice. Its glass front was lying in shattered piles on the pavement.

He steered right and then into the gap between it and the next anonymous concrete block. It was dark and empty. He couldn’t see her at all.

He skidded to a halt, his breath labored, unable to focus. He took two sideways steps and leaned heavily against the wall. It wasn’t just his left hand feeling weak now, it was his whole arm: tingling with a thousand pinpricks.

“You Okay?”

He jumped, as did his heart. “Yobany stos, woman!”

“I thought you knew I was here.” She shifted, and her outline was suddenly apparent.

He slid down the wall until he was squatting. “I just need five minutes,” he gasped. He tilted his head back to look at the slit of the sky. “Chyort, it hurts.”

“I can do this for you, if you want,” she said. “I know what Sonja looks like.”

“If you hadn’t remembered, the Paradise militia want to kill you.”

“They want to kill Father John.”

“They were watching the building and they thought you were alone.” He rubbed at his sternum. “It was you they were after.”

“Then, thank you.” She played with the thick rope of her hair.

“Yeah, well. They didn’t seem too fussy where they pointed their peesi. I guess I’m off their Christmas list, too.”

She straightened up, stretching her already long legs by standing on tiptoe. “Ready to carry on?”

He puffed. “Shortest five minutes in history.”

“We can wait for a little while longer.”

“No, let’s get this over with. The sooner you can get me into Paradise, the sooner you can get back to protecting Father John.” He pushed himself up, and was dizzy with vertigo.

“Sam, I’m not going back,” she said. “I thought I made it clear I’m staying with you.”

“Yeah. I’m having a hard time believing that, so I’m giving you an easy way out.”

“I don’t want an easy way out. I have to suffer for what I’m doing.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You sound like me. Where next?”

“Over the wall,” and she pointed. The breeze-block structure was twice as tall as he was.

Madeleine, however, had no problems at all. She holstered her gun at her hip and approached the wall at a loping run. She jumped, placed both hands on its top and ended up astride it, legs dangling either side. She waved Petrovitch on, and reached down, gripping his forearm as he gripped hers. He scrambled up the best he could, and lay beached on the thin rail of rough stonework.

“And I still have to get down the other side,” he grunted.