The Night Stalker

Thirty-Five

Hunter pointed to the far end of the hall. ‘Back alley. . go. . now.’

Garcia spun around on the balls of his feet and took off down the corridor like a locomotive. Hunter pushed the apartment’s door open but it halted at the security chain. He slammed his left shoulder hard against it. Once was all it took. The chain came undone from the doorframe, wooden splinters flying through the air. Hunter saw and heard the door at the end of the apartment’s hallway slam shut. He dashed towards it but didn’t get there in time. A step away from it he heard the lock turn. Mechanically he tried the handle. Nothing.

‘Smith, c’mon. .’ He shoved his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. He tried again, harder this time. Solid as stone. He took two steps back and sent his boot straight onto the door handle. Once, twice, three times. The door rattled a little but that was all. He knew it was pointless carrying on. The door probably had surface-mounted deadbolt locks on the other side. Hunter could shoot the hinges off, but that would be overkill, and way too hard to justify in a report.

‘Smith, c’mon, open up.’

Chances were he was already halfway down the fire ladder.

‘Fuck!’

Hunter backtracked down the corridor to the next room along on the right, which was on the same side as the room James had locked himself in. The door was shut but not locked. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was in almost complete darkness. Hunter didn’t look for a light switch — no time — and dashed towards the window on the far wall, almost tripping over something on the floor. Just like the room James had gone into, the window faced the building’s back alley. There were no curtains, but the glass had been sprayed with black paint. It was an old-style window. Two panels. The bottom one had slots for fingers at the bottom. No locks, just a single rotating latch. Hunter undid it and pushed the bottom panel up. Stuck.

‘Shit.’

With his fingers in the slots he shook the window so vigorously the entire frame rattled. He tried again. The panel slid up a couple of inches, enough for him to get his hands under the frame. Much better grip. With one big push, the panel creaked and slid all the way up. Hunter craned forward and looked out. James was rushing down the last rungs of the metal fire escape ladder.

‘Goddamnit.’

Smith didn’t look back. He jumped from the ladder and hit the ground running. He was fast and agile.

Hunter searched the alley for Garcia. He saw Smith zigzag between a few large trash cans and then dive through an open door about twenty yards ahead.

Garcia finally appeared, coming from the alley’s entrance on the right, sprinting like an Olympic champion.

‘The Chinese restaurant’s back door,’ Hunter called from the window. ‘Past those trash cans on the right. He got in through the kitchen.’

Garcia hesitated for a beat, considering if he should run back the way he came in and try to cut James off at the front of the shops. Going back and around would take too long. By the time he got there James would be gone. He carried on forward, sidestepping the trash cans and disappearing through the same door James had done seconds earlier.

Hunter turned around and hurried back out of the room. If he was fast and lucky enough, he could cut Smith off at the top of the street. He’d taken only two steps away from the window when his eyes caught a glimpse of something on the walls.

The light that now poured in through the open window had erased the darkness.

What he saw made him stop dead.