Devil Take The Hindmost

Chapter Twenty-Six

I waited for the dissonant rumble of a train passing over the brickwork of the archway to muffle any sounds before I tried again. Gripping the iron grating covering the window tightly, I heaved with all my strength.

"Give it a rest, you'll shit yourself with the exertion," Ty commented, unhelpfully.

"These bars are rustier than a sailor's fly zip," I huffed, inspecting my hands and the crumbled russet powder of corroded metal dusting them. "In the films, they just yank these things right off the fucking walls."

"No wonder Widdershinz has his hooks into you if that's how gullible you are," Edge smirked, his arms held behind his back as he rocked on his heels like a parade ground sergeant major.

"The tensile strength of iron is five hundred and forty megapascals. We need another way in."

"What the fuck is a megapascal?" I snapped.

"One of the five hundred and forty things that are going to prevent you from bending those bars with your bare hands," Ty answered calmly.

"What do you suggest?" I took some deep breaths.

"You're the ideas guy, I'm here in more of a managerial oversight capacity," he replied, negating my self-soothing efforts and raising my blood pressure even further.

I sighed and backed away from the filth-encrusted window with its iron bar prophylactic that mocked my attempts at penetration, placing my palms on my hips and inspecting the exterior of Barnaby Montague's auction house for another potential point of entry.

"And you are quite sure about your theory?" Ty asked.

"Nope," I fought his sass with sass. "That's why it's a theory, not a fact. But he isn't answering the door, is he?"

Ty nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm, well he can't possibly have popped out for a loaf of bread, or to visit his aunt. The only possible explanation for not coming to the door is he has been ritualistically murdered."

"I don't need the sarcasm, just help me, will you?" I groaned, scouring the dour building jutting out of the railway arch for any other options. "What about a ventilation duct?"

Edge sucked his teeth disdainfully. "If such a thing existed, you would need to lose a bit of weight. They are typically wide enough for a tennis ball and blocked with an air brick. If I might offer an alternative suggestion? In situations like this, I tend to find the simplest approach is usually the best," Ty offered, his tone placatory.

"Which is?" I pressed him.

"The front door," he responded, bringing his arms out from behind his back to reveal a brutal looking steel crowbar clutched in his hands.

"How long have you been carrying that?" I demanded.

"I got it out of the Rover when you were casing the joint." He looked crestfallen at my response.

"And you didn't think to mention it while I was giving myself farmer Giles straining with those window bars?"

Ty just shrugged, muttering under his breath "Five hundred and forty."

"If we jimmy the front door, there really isn't any pretence that we are doing anything other than breaking and entering," I moaned, contemplating the near-term addition to the list of things which might see me enduring a stretch inside once this was over, if not before.

"Door, window, what's the difference? Other than the fact I don't have to give you a boost or pick shards of broken glass out of your arse if we go through the door,"

I nodded, then watched as Ty hammered his fist on the door. "One more, for luck!" he winked, then inserted the flattened prongs at the end of the crowbar between door and jamb, just above the lock.