The Flanders Case by David R. Ewens

Author:David R. Ewens [Ewens, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781481660
Publisher: Grosvenor House Publishing
Published: 2016-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

15

It’s little things that tell you something isn’t right. In this case, it was the faint smell of a man’s cologne or the scent that comes with shaving foam. That hadn’t been in the corridor to Sterling’s room, and he knew that it had nothing to do with him. He looked around for other signs – and found them. The bars of the fire escape door, with the sign of a little green man in a pose of flight down some cartoon stairs against a white background, were not quite aligned. He could see the faintest sliver of light, like a long stiletto, in the bottom gap between the door and the wall of the cleaning cupboard. He went for his room key, and even went so far as scratching it in the lock. Then he thought: the room will be the trap. There was no obvious way out except through the door. He had been too complacent to examine the possibility of an exit from the window.

He had more manoeuvrability outside. The person waiting for him must have echoed his thinking. As Sterling put the key back in the pocket, the cleaning cupboard door opened and one of the gang of men following him stepped into the corridor. He didn’t just step into it. He filled it. It was time to go. When teachers on occasional school outings used to shout out, ‘Don’t run, walk’, the walks – to be first in the ice-cream van queue, to be first to jump in the sand on the beach – were always on the verge of erupting into runs. That’s what Sterling remembered as he scuttled back along the corridor and clattered down the stairs. When he burst into the reception area, he stopped and pretended that he had forgotten something.

‘Christina,’ he hissed softly. When she looked up, like a boules player he tossed the bag with the remaining chocolates across the room to the counter. She was quick, catching the bag one-handed. She was quick to clock the situation, too. The bag was slipped under the counter just as his pursuer jumped from the last stair into the lobby and Sterling dashed out through the side door.

He wanted to get away. Find somewhere quiet to regroup. Think about how he could extricate himself from this dangerous, deepening mess. Beyond escape, his thoughts were vague. There was no plan. As things turned out, he did not need one. He’d been concentrating on who was behind him and how close he was. He did not notice the large, smartly dressed man he cannoned into on the pavement. The man noticed him, though. He was expecting him. As Sterling stumbled, he put an arm around his shoulders. To the world, it was a friendly and good-natured gesture of support, the smiling face indicating, ‘Accidents happen. Here, let me make sure you don’t fall over.’ To Sterling, it was very different. The other arm ended in something that was being poked into his ribs, something small, hard and round – very possibly the barrel of a gun.

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