He was on the staircase, two steps from the landing, and frozen in the moment. On and up or back and down? If he turned and headed down, whoever was up there would know. And they’d be behind and above him, which wasn’t where you wanted an enemy to be.
Where you wanted an enemy to be was a long way away.
Roderick Ho lived a rich, full life. Admired by all who knew him, envied by all the men; and if he weren’t committed to Kim, he’d be up to his neck in hopeful women every night of the week. So a player, definitely, and one who could handle himself – his Pokémon agility underlined that – not to mention an active agent of the security services: he was basically born for situations like this. So how come his knees were turning to water, and he couldn’t move from this stair?
Seconds passed. There was no more creaking from above, as if whoever it was had also frozen in place, and was waiting for Roddy to appear. If they were an enemy, they’d be armed. Nobody broke into a place intending harm without carrying the tools for the job. And if it were a friend … His reasoning broke down. The only person who had a key was Kim, and she’d never used it.
Stay or go?
Fight or flight?
His hands curled into fists.
Whoever was up there, they were hiding in the dark. That would be because they knew about Roddy, knew his reputation, knew they needed darkness and surprise. Well, they’d already lost one of those, and didn’t even know it yet. Roddy knew they were there. He also knew his house the way a cat knows its whiskers. He could glide through its rooms like a phantom on a skateboard while an intruder would blunder haplessly into unexpected doors and furniture. It would be the work of a moment to assert his dominance. This guy, whoever he was, had better be prepared to rue the day. Roddy was coming for him. He took a step up, caught his foot on the riser, and fell flat on his face.
Which wasn’t great, but the momentum was there now, the decision taken. Roddy had to move, and move fast. Scrambling to his feet, he launched himself up the remaining stairs and burst into the darkened room like a lightning bolt, adrenalin flooding his system: his hands now chopping machines, ready to slam into an opponent’s throat; his feet deadly weapons, aching to kick and bruise and kill. He snarled, a low deadly sound. His teeth were bared. Victory was his for the taking.
From a corner of the room Lamb said, ‘Not now, Cato.’
‘Standish has been on at me to get more healthy, so I’ve had a little detox. Found some sparkling water in your fridge. Knew you wouldn’t mind.’
‘… That’s champagne.’
‘Is it? Thought it tasted funny.’
Lamb scowled at the treacherous beverage.
‘… Er … Why are you here?’
‘Just checking to see if you’re dead.’ Lamb belched, paused, then belched again, more loudly. ‘No need to thank me. But if you want to ring out for a pizza, it wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘There might be some in the fridge.’
‘Yeah, there was, but I fancy a hot one.’
He had dragged a chair into the corner and taken his shoes off, though he still had his coat on. Bits of left-over pizza were scattered on and around his frame, and the champagne bottle dangled loosely from his hand.
‘So. Anyone try to kill you or anything?’
‘… No.’
‘Pity. Would have been nice to get this sorted, one way or the other.’ Lamb stood suddenly – he was capable of sudden movement when least expected – and peered through the big window. What he saw out there provoked what might have been a chuckle, if it wasn’t another belch. He turned back to Ho. ‘And there was no one tailing you?’
‘I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed,’ Ho said, allowing himself a quiet, professional smile.
‘So either you’re getting worse or your colleagues are getting better. Fuck me, that’s a puzzler.’
‘Why do I need protecting?’
Lamb shrugged. ‘I’m not convinced myself. That you’re worth protecting, I mean. But someone’s clearly got it in for you. I mean, look at the facts. Dander saw someone try to run you over, and you seem to have a girlfriend. I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but
‘… I don’t get it.’
Lamb turned and clapped Ho on the shoulder. The younger man nearly buckled under the weight. ‘We should get that sewn onto a sampler for you. Save a lot of chat. Now, where’s the bed? This champagne of yours has made me right sleepy.’
‘… Bed?’
‘Yeah, it’s starting to look like you’re too tight to stand your boss a pizza. And some of us have offices to run in the morning.’
‘I thought you were here to keep guard.’
‘Christ no. What gave you that idea? I’m here to make sure somebody else is.’ He nodded towards the window. ‘Give her a sword and a helmet, she’d look like a brave little hobbit. Now, I’ll give you five minutes to change your sheets. And I’m busting for a piss. Where’s the nearest basin?’
Ho pointed towards the landing, numbly.
‘I’ll have a fry-up in the morning,’ Lamb said, heading in that direction. ‘But no beans. They play havoc with my constitution.’ He farted on exit, to illustrate the problem.
