“Look, we need to go. Now.” His eyes scanned the room. There it was, in a corner of the ceiling. A red light, flashing slowly but steadily. “Fuck. There’s a silent alarm. Come on.”
She laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. “I saw it earlier. One of us is still on top of her game.”
He stepped across the room, dragging her to her feet and towards the door. She held onto the ancient briefcase with her other hand. Noddy pressed his ear against the door. “Shit.” He reached for the chain and the sliding bolt next to it, slamming them both into position before looking around frantically. “Sounds like two of them, but I’m sure I saw three people outside. Not security guards. Mick’s people.”
She shrugged. “Mick doesn’t care. About anything.”
The door handle turned slowly. Noddy rushed across the room to the balcony, looking for a way down. There was a trellis attached to the wall on either side of the balcony, where ivy sprawled lazy in the afternoon sun, lush green and brown and red against the tired dark bricks.
“Except his coke. His business.”
Something slammed against the door from outside, crashing against the bolt and the chain. They held, but a screw bounced across the room.
Noddy waved his arm for Morag to join him. “Come on.” He climbed over the black wrought-iron railing, edging towards the trellis.
Morag took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She smiled.
“See you in Valhalla.”
Then she opened her eyes and with two quick steps she leapt onto and over the railing, past Noddy’s outstretched hand, arms wrapped tight around Mick’s battered leather briefcase.
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Cheers.
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