Noughts and Crosses by Robert McNeill

Author:Robert McNeill [McNeill, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Tate parked his car in St Peter’s Place and checked his watch: 2.38am. It was just a short walk to Viewforth Square and the only folk he encountered was a young couple who crossed his path at the traffic lights at Gilmore Place. They appeared to be drunk and were heading in the direction of Tollcross.

The man said something and the girl laughed out loud, then her boyfriend joined in and they continued on their way.

Arriving at Viewforth Square minutes later, he approached the stair entrance and took out a set of keys. He glanced around, then, satisfied he wasn’t being watched, let himself in and moved silently towards the well of the stair.

Tate unlocked the rear door and entered the back court, relocked it at the other side, and edged towards the fire escape. He paused for a moment, looking up to make sure no lights were visible at the second floor. Satisfied there weren’t, he mounted the final section of the fire escape and began climbing the steps.

Within moments he arrived at the platform outside Nowak’s window, where he paused. The curtains hadn’t been drawn, and there was just enough light to enable him to make out her slight figure beneath the duvet.

He watched for any movement to indicate she might still be awake, but saw none, save for the slight rise and fall of the coverlet caused by her breathing.

Tate reached into his jacket and put on his balaclava mask, then took out his penknife, unfolded the blade, and ran his fingers along the outside of the window sash. Locating the gap between inner and outer frame, he inserted the blade and slid it along until it connected with metal. He worked the blade gradually until the catch swung open.

He refolded the blade, replaced the penknife in his pocket, and gripped the lower edge of the sash with the tips of his fingers and began to lift. He was relieved to find it moved freely and noiselessly. A slight breeze fluttered the curtain as he sat on the sill. He swung his legs over the threshold, felt his feet connect with the floor, and slipped inside.

He lowered the window and stood at the curtains until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see Nowak’s sleeping form much clearer now, and the steady rhythm of her breathing assured him she was sleeping soundly. He looked beyond the bed to the door and gave a sigh of relief. It was slightly ajar, and not having to open the handle was one less thing to worry about.

Tate moved towards the door, and was almost level with the bed when he placed his foot on a loose floorboard, which emitted a loud creak. Nowak stirred, mumbling something in Polish. Tate froze and cursed under his breath. Why the hell hadn’t he made sure of the flooring the first time he checked the flat!

Nowak shuffled under the duvet for a moment, then gave a loud snore and her breathing settled into a rhythm.

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