The Final Endgame.

Chapter 4

"What's the plan, Fisher?" I asked, as we came out onto the main street. Without a reply, Fisher ducked into a nearby alley, and I followed, both of us dropping down behind a set of dustbins.

"We'll 'ave ter take a slightly unconventional route" the little Inspector whispered. "Yer up fer tha'?"

"Course" I grinned. Fisher tutted at me.

"Yer won't be grinnin' fer much longer, I'm afraid. This won't be easy" he warned.

"Just don't take me up too high" I bargained. He shrugged.

"No promises, sadly."

We sneaked along the alley, away from Fisher's flat, and scrambled up onto the aligning wall.

"You're kidding?" I complained.

"We're goin' cross country, so ter speak" Fisher replied simply. I scowled at him.

"If I fall..."

"Yer'll be fine" Fisher assured me. "Yer quite agile already, if yer want me ter be honest. Not many people could catch a cab first time."

He lifted up a part of his hair, under which, in the dim light, I could just make out a thin white scar looping over behind his ear.

"Tha' was what 'appened on my first try" he explained. I didn't fancy questioning further.

We balanced along the wall, moving at a faster pace than I thought really necessary,

"Could we slow up?" I panted.

"Nah" Fisher hissed back. "If we don't move this fast, people watchin' might be able ter make out facial feat'res."

"There's people watching?" I squeaked. Fisher stopped abruptly.

"Prospective people" he corrected himself. "Now shu'up!"

I sighed and kept the pace. Worth a try.

We dropped down into another alley, weaving our way at a pretty speedy jog through some tight packed terraces. Evening was falling, and the people around were beginning to thin out. I was also beginning to tire, as Fisher's relentless pace was getting harder and harder to keep up with. When we finally arrived, I stopped a few feet short, leant on my knees, and gasped for air, and for a good three or four minutes Fisher stood by me, tutting and tapping his foot.

"Yer done?" he asked impatiently. I frowned at him.

"No need to be sarcastic."

We were actually around the back of Newham's flat, and as I stood, wondering how we were to get in without using the front door, Fisher grabbed a hand onto a drainpipe and began to scale the wall.

"Flat's on the third floor?" Fisher hissed down.

"...yeah" I replied, feeling a little unnerved.

"Two secs."

I looked around. There was actually a little back door, looking rather worse for wear, leading into the rest of the flat block, but it was bolted from the inside, I realised, after I had tried it numerous times.

A few seconds later, though, there was a hiss, a clank and a thunk, as Fisher (on the other side of the door) unbolted it for me. I raised an eyebrow as he swung it open.

"Keep quie'" he muttered. "Technically, we's breakin' an' enterin'."

I held back a short squeak.

Together, we slipped in through the back door, climbed the stairs, and ducked into Newham's flat, which Fisher had obviously unlocked from the inside when he came in through the window.

"We could have just asked for a key!" I complained, as I directed Fisher over to the chest, the one that Newham had told me held his collection of weapons.

"Nah" Fisher grunted, heaving the lid up. "Old habits, an'all."

I rolled my eyes, as he began to carefully loot through the chest.

"Wes'll be needin' these" Fisher muttered, passing various bits of gun-shaped metal up to me, and I put them carefully into my bag.

"An' this" he sighed, beginning to pack his own bag. Over his head, the bag-strap digging into my shoulder, I looked and saw something I recognised.

"He shouldn't have kept this!" I exclaimed, pulling a long, scarily sharp knife out of the chest. "He should have turned this in!"

"Is tha' wha' I think it is?" Fisher exclaimed. I nodded.

"It is" I confirmed. "It's the knife that flew out of that clock. In Downing Street. I'm sure of it."

"Why's 'e got it?" Fisher asked. I shrugged, turning it over in my hands.

"Don't know."

We both turned suddenly, as a floorboard creaked ominously in the corridor outside the flat. Fisher swore under his breath.

There was a moment, when neither of us spoke, and it seemed that whoever was outside thought he was being sneakier than he was, as there was another creak, and another, as Fisher grabbed my hand and began to move stealthily towards the door. I had no idea what he was up to, but he leant in, whispering in my ear.

"Second they come in, I'll grab 'em. You leg it down an' out the back. I'll catch yer up."

"What happens if there's more than one?" I asked, under my breath.

Fisher smiled, the wolfish grin I'd seen only once before, in a pub in Whitechapel.

"Unless they be walkin' all in perfect unison, I'll bet a crown there's only one. On three?"

He winked, as a key fiddled in the lock. We were hidden behind the door now, and as someone realized the door was already unlocked and carefully pushed it open. As soon as he moved, I ran, tearing down the stairs and out of the decrepid old back door, scaling the wall outside faster than I ever thought I could, and crouching there, breathing hard. 

There was a muffled scream from the flat, and I winced. That sounded suspiciously like Newham's next-door-neighbour. Oh dear.

I saw Fisher scramble out of the window again, and shin down the drainpipe. He looked, I was glad to see, a little bashful.

"Could 'ave been worse" he muttered, as we balanced off along the wall. "Didn't knock 'er ou'. Jus' frightened 'er a bit."

"I'm not sure Robert would have forgiven you if you'd knocked old Mrs. Widdecombe out" I joked. "He's fond of that old lady."

"Wasn't an ol' lady" Fisher said, stopping and turning round. "Were a young girl. Your age an' build, I think."

I frowned, looking back at the house.

"So who was it, then?"

"Oo knows" Fisher shrugged, his London accent getting broader by the second. "Bu' she's gone now. Oo cares?"

Who cares, I thought to myself, as we ran away, through the night, weapons in bags and bags over shoulders. Who cares?

I cared.

Coincidences are never coincidental, and sometimes, I'd learned, it was more about reading through the lines than taking in the actual words. This girl seemed to not really matter, but all the same, I was determined to keep an open mind. Playing this game, I could never be sure.