Quickly, I tried to push all thoughts of the feel of his body out of my mind. It wasn’t too difficult, considering the circumstances. My eyes were drawn once more to the giant beast, of which now, not only the head, but a long, snake-like body was in view, each part of it supported by another pair of legs. The snake-like thing had by now started advancing towards the western side of number 97.
‘What in St George’s name is that?’ I panted, pointing at the wagging head of the fake monster.
‘Chinese New Year celebrations,’ Mr Ambrose said, his face as straight as a ruler. ‘The performance is called “The Dance of the Dragon”, I believe.’
‘Is it the Chinese New Year?’
‘No. But I doubt Lord Dalgliesh’s guards know that. They are not Chinese.’
‘Well, fortunately, neither am I,’ I said, watching the head of the monster with trepidation. ‘Real animals are scary enough. I have no idea why any people would want to dream up even more monstrous creatures, and for a celebration, to boot. Give me a nice, quiet suffragist demonstration any day…’
‘If you’re quite finished, we should get going.’ Mr Ambrose jerked his head in the direction of number 97. ‘Or we will get shot in spite of the performance of our Chinese friends, and I’d hate to have spent enough money for an entire dragon and twenty-four pairs of legs for nothing.’
Without waiting for my response, he whirled. Drawing his cloak in closely around himself, he started across the street. Crouching low, he stayed out of the light of the street lamps, jumping from shadow to shadow. Karim followed without hesitation.
I gazed at the thirteen steps or so that separated me from number 97 with trepidation. At any one of the thirteen steps I would have to take, I might get shot. I wondered what it would feel like, having a bullet pierce my flesh. Yet - the longer I stood here wondering, the more likely I would be to find out. And he was already halfway across.
You don’t really have a choice, do you?
I threw myself forward.
When I had just taken my first step, I thought I saw a glint on the rooftop of number 97, and my heart almost stopped. The barrel of a gun! I expected the crack of the shot, the bullet hitting me - nothing came. It must simply have been a drainpipe, glinting in the moonlight.
Ten steps left.
Inwardly, I cursed the London authorities for making this road so damnably wide. Couldn’t they have reduced the size a bit? Couldn’t they have felt compassion for poor girls who were running across the street in the darkness, hoping not to get shot by villainous assassins? I was sure if there had been a woman on the planning committee, she would have thought of it! It was such an obvious point to consider in city planning.
Seven steps left.
Every time one of my feet hit the ground it sounded like a drumbeat in my ear. I wondered at the fact that the men on the roof hadn’t heard it yet and put a nice, round hole into me. But in reality, the clash of the cymbals and dozens of thundering feet on the opposite side of the building were probably more than covering the noise of my advance.
But they could still see me, if they were not looking the other way. I drew the mottled cloak tighter around me, though I could not really believe in its powers of disguise. It was only a cloak, after all…
Three steps left.
I surged forward with renewed effort. In front of me, I could see Mr Ambrose and Karim appearing out of the gloom. They were pressed against the brick wall of number 97. Closing my eyes, I leapt forward. If I was to get shot at the last moment, I didn’t want to see the blood.
I slammed into something hard - much harder than a brick wall! From above me, I heard a sharp exhalation, and then, suddenly, a set of arms was around me, pulling me to a chest that felt wonderfully familiar.
Well, maybe that’s because you’ve been pressed up against it twice already in the last hour!
This time, he wasn’t holding me to shut my mouth, though, and my back wasn’t to his front. Instead, the hard muscles of his chest were pressed more tightly against mine than they had ever been before. He was holding me so tightly, I thought he didn’t ever want to let go again. I would not have minded if he never did. I felt so overjoyed to still be alive, and here, and with him…
A strange feeling flooded my body. A feeling of heat and weakness and wanting… something. From one moment to the next, I went limp in his arms, collapsing against his chest with a faint sigh.
What the hell is happening? Lilly to legs: start working again, now! Right now, do you hear me?
Above me, I heard him catch his breath. And then, something happened which I would never have thought possible, certainly not here. Not now. His hands started roaming over my body, expertly probing my face, my neck, my arms, my… oh my!