east of the city. He stood in the lobby, waiting for the elevator, obscurely convinced that something was wrong. In the
elevator he stared at his face in the mirror and wondered what he looked like. His reflection posed the question it was supposed to answer.
The apartment was on the seventh floor; by the fifth Walker felt certain he was making a mistake. The elevator stopped on the sixth floor. A cigarette-faced woman stepped aside to let Walker
off. He padded along a corridor and up the emergency stairs. Easing the fire door open a fraction he had a good view of room 7D. He allowed the fire door to close until there was only a knife-edge
of light. Waited.
After ten minutes a squat man emerged from the lift and knocked on the door. The door opened and he spoke quietly. Seconds later a figure Walker recognized as Carver emerged. Walker moved back
down the stairs but heard footsteps coming from below. As quietly as possible he trotted back up to the top floor. A folding-ladder led to a frosted skylight. The ladder squeaked as Walker pulled
it down, creaked as he climbed up. He cracked open the skylight and clambered out on to the roof.
The noise of traffic was all around. Shadows hazed and disappeared. He crossed the roof and made his way along a ledge to the next house. There was a skylight here, locked from the inside. The
next house along was higher than the rest and he had to haul himself up. As soon as he had done so he heard footsteps from behind. Keeping low he moved across the roof and ducked behind a crumbling
chimney stack. Seeing his pursuers fanning out from the skylight, he scuttled away and lowered himself down on to the roof of the next house. He continued moving like this until the terrace was
split abruptly by a service alley running between two houses. In the darkness below, dustbins and trash, the glint of broken glass. The gap was only four yards but a low ornamental wall at the edge
meant that it was impossible to get the kind of run-up he needed. He glanced back and tried the entrance to the lift housing. It was locked, but lying nearby were two rusty scaffolding poles.
He picked up one of them, carrying it in his arms like a tightrope-walker, making his way to the edge of the building. Resting it on the low wall he began feeding the pole out over the alley.
With a yard still to go it became too heavy to handle. He dragged it noisily back over the wall towards him and tried again, this time standing it on end and lowering it by degrees towards the
opposite roof. When he could hold it no longer he let it drop like a metronome across the alley. It smashed down on to the low wall opposite, bounced, shivered. As he scrambled to steady it, the
pole slipped off the far wall, flicked up from beneath his hands and went twirling out of sight. By the time he heard the crash and tangle from the alley below he was already dragging the other
pole into position, this time to a place where a gap in the wall would support it like an oarlock. He upended the pole, released it and watched it swing down. Again it clattered and bounced but
this time, anchored by the wall, it remained lodged on the far roof. He pushed it out until there was an overhang of a foot on each side and then climbed over the edge of the building, began moving
out over the alley. A yard out he brought his legs up and curled them around the pole so that he could move more quickly.
There was a shout from the roof. Raising his head and looking back between his arms he saw his pursuers rush to the edge. They tried to prise the pole free of the gap in the wall but
Walker’s weight had jammed it in further. He continued moving, hand over hand, pulling with his shoulders, pushing with his legs, hauling himself away. He felt the pole quiver as they began
heaving it free of the gap, followed by a jarring crash as they let it fall back on to the top of the wall. The impact shook his legs free and left him hanging by his hands. For a second
elevator he stared at his face in the mirror and wondered what he looked like. His reflection posed the question it was supposed to answer.
The apartment was on the seventh floor; by the fifth Walker felt certain he was making a mistake. The elevator stopped on the sixth floor. A cigarette-faced woman stepped aside to let Walker
off. He padded along a corridor and up the emergency stairs. Easing the fire door open a fraction he had a good view of room 7D. He allowed the fire door to close until there was only a knife-edge
of light. Waited.
After ten minutes a squat man emerged from the lift and knocked on the door. The door opened and he spoke quietly. Seconds later a figure Walker recognized as Carver emerged. Walker moved back
down the stairs but heard footsteps coming from below. As quietly as possible he trotted back up to the top floor. A folding-ladder led to a frosted skylight. The ladder squeaked as Walker pulled
it down, creaked as he climbed up. He cracked open the skylight and clambered out on to the roof.
The noise of traffic was all around. Shadows hazed and disappeared. He crossed the roof and made his way along a ledge to the next house. There was a skylight here, locked from the inside. The
next house along was higher than the rest and he had to haul himself up. As soon as he had done so he heard footsteps from behind. Keeping low he moved across the roof and ducked behind a crumbling
chimney stack. Seeing his pursuers fanning out from the skylight, he scuttled away and lowered himself down on to the roof of the next house. He continued moving like this until the terrace was
split abruptly by a service alley running between two houses. In the darkness below, dustbins and trash, the glint of broken glass. The gap was only four yards but a low ornamental wall at the edge
meant that it was impossible to get the kind of run-up he needed. He glanced back and tried the entrance to the lift housing. It was locked, but lying nearby were two rusty scaffolding poles.
He picked up one of them, carrying it in his arms like a tightrope-walker, making his way to the edge of the building. Resting it on the low wall he began feeding the pole out over the alley.
With a yard still to go it became too heavy to handle. He dragged it noisily back over the wall towards him and tried again, this time standing it on end and lowering it by degrees towards the
opposite roof. When he could hold it no longer he let it drop like a metronome across the alley. It smashed down on to the low wall opposite, bounced, shivered. As he scrambled to steady it, the
pole slipped off the far wall, flicked up from beneath his hands and went twirling out of sight. By the time he heard the crash and tangle from the alley below he was already dragging the other
pole into position, this time to a place where a gap in the wall would support it like an oarlock. He upended the pole, released it and watched it swing down. Again it clattered and bounced but
this time, anchored by the wall, it remained lodged on the far roof. He pushed it out until there was an overhang of a foot on each side and then climbed over the edge of the building, began moving
out over the alley. A yard out he brought his legs up and curled them around the pole so that he could move more quickly.
There was a shout from the roof. Raising his head and looking back between his arms he saw his pursuers rush to the edge. They tried to prise the pole free of the gap in the wall but
Walker’s weight had jammed it in further. He continued moving, hand over hand, pulling with his shoulders, pushing with his legs, hauling himself away. He felt the pole quiver as they began
heaving it free of the gap, followed by a jarring crash as they let it fall back on to the top of the wall. The impact shook his legs free and left him hanging by his hands. For a second
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