A Cast of Falcons by Sarah Yarwood-Lovett

Author:Sarah Yarwood-Lovett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction
Published: 2022-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Sunday 14th March – 1.30 p.m.

‘I’m not sure about this, Nell.’ Rav, having agreed to her risky plan, was now having second thoughts.

‘It’ll be fine,’ she said.

They’d planned how they’d do it from the refectory roof walkway, assessing access to Hawke’s bedroom. One of his windows was tucked inside an alcove, and aligned with a chimney, reducing the chances of anyone seeing them. So, if they went up to the third floor, out onto the roof, secured the rope around the chimney – and around them, rappel-style – they could lower themselves down to Hawke’s concealed window.

Rav had taken some convincing, and he still didn’t like the set-up. He definitely didn’t want to watch Nell dangling on a rope that was as secure as it could be, but not as secure as it should be. ‘I’ll go – you stay here as lookout.’

Nell stared at him. ‘As if! Come on, let’s get on with it. The police guard changes in ten minutes.’

Rav worried that a guard change meant that one of the officers would check inside the room. But Nell seemed convinced that they’d use the time to gossip about the family, football or colleagues, making it less likely they’d hear any noises in Hawke’s room, while he and Nell searched.

A few minutes later, he peered over the edge of the roof while Nell jimmied the window, dangling on the rope. His guilty eyes flicked over the garden. No movement. But anyone could be lurking anywhere. Maybe the window would be locked and they could give up on this crazy plan. Their vulnerability, on top of illegally entering the cordoned-off room, only added to the danger of not being able to use proper safety equipment (Nell had protested they could hardly run around in harnesses). Sweat slithered down Rav’s back. Too late now. Nell had got the window open, and was crawling in. Oh, bloody hell.

He looped the ropes around his back and through his legs, then eased his way down, wincing at the friction around his waist and thighs. Especially after eating nearly his own body weight in crispy-skinned, fluffy-centred, rosemary-seasoned roast potatoes at lunch. He passed the third-floor window and continued down, until his foot reached the next sill. He wiggled through the window and unwound the brown ropes, concealing them in the thick wisteria stems.

Relief at the safe descent hit him, just as the dread of an officer poking his head round the door set in. He practically heard Nell chastising him – get a move on, then – as he checked his surgical gloves taken from the stash in his car; staple kit for an ecologist.

Already, a be-gloved Nell was scouring the drawers of the writing desk. Nothing was on the top, in front of the chair. The cleared space suggested that Hawke’s laptop had sat there and had been taken by the police. But there was nothing else of note.

Rav checked in the huge dressing room – pushing clothes aside, then moving them back to look undisturbed – and looked under the bed.

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