Before Another War

Chapter Six

The Cat squinted as he peered through the window to the office block. He'd been busy digging through a trash can for his lunch when he heard the sirens. After that, it hadn't been hard to follow the police here. Anything that required this sort of response had to be down to Cyrille. He'd only been in the city for a few months, but Cyrille had effortlessly become one of the most feared criminals in Edinburgh. 

Arching his back, the Cat set on a path towards the automatic glass doors. He needed to get a closer look. If he was going to find anyone that could help Emilio, he knew he had to hang on to every opportunity. Besides, the Cat didn't expect anyone to notice him. Most people wouldn't even bat an eyelid. One problem he had run into, however, were people who adored cats. The people who couldn't let one simply pass by without trying to touch it. They especially loved the big, fat, ginger ones. Unfortunately, that's exactly the type of cat he was. 

Without incident, he made it to the doors and waited patiently for them to open — only they didn't. He wasn't tall enough to trigger the mechanism. Clumsily, the Cat attempted to stand up on his hind legs, swaying side to side. Still nothing. Frustrated, he sat down, curled his tail around his legs, and waited for someone to come. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

Just a few feet away, a girl, who the Cat guessed was no older than three, was sat on a bench with her mother, halfway through a ham sandwich. The Cat paced up to the bench, waving his tail and striving to get her attention. It worked. The girl tapped her mum's shoulder.

'Look!' She squealed with a sickening joy. 'Hello, kitty!' The girl dumped the half-eaten sandwich on her lap and held out her hands. 'Come here!' 

At this, the cat turned away and began to waltz back towards the doors, taunting her. He despised this sort of thing, but it was the only way to get those doors open. The girl sprang up, the sandwich falling from her pink dress and plopping onto the ground. She waddled after him, her hands outstretched. 

Her mother could have sworn she saw the cat smirk when he flicked his head around, checking the girl was behind him.

'Louise, come back!' She called after her, laughing. Fortunately for the Cat, she didn't get up, knowing her daughter would only get so far. 

Louise bounded up to the doors, determined to catch him. The Cat stole a glance through the doors, the hallway was still empty. As he gazed in, he felt himself being snapped up into the air, held by sticky fingers. Louise had taken him by surprise. He struggled as she smothered him into her chest and the doors finally slid open. He just had to get in before they closed again. 

When her grip relaxed slightly, the cat hissed and scratched to get away. Louise dropped him sharply and cradled her poor hand. For a moment, he worried he'd hurt her, but then the mother jumped up from the bench and he had to promptly continue on his way, feeling a little wicked.

Ignoring the toddler's cries, the Cat pranced through the lobby and down the hall, debating between the elevator and the stairs. Wanting to stay discreet, he chose the stairs. It would be a nightmare if he ended up stuck in a lift with someone. If that happened, he'd certainly be shut back outside. 

However, after six floors, his decision turned out to be misinformed. By the time he made it to the level swarming with police tape, he felt like collapsing into a pile of fluff and bones. 

The Cat was finally there, right in the middle of the action. He wasn't expecting to see Cyrille, of course, but one of his goons was always near.  It was becoming rare for anything to happen in Edinburgh without the pinstripe-suited criminal being involved. He was well known to the police but was too hard to catch. Not once had Cyrille left a left any loose ends behind. Every time the authorities thought they were close, the evidence would rapidly begin to point elsewhere.