by KJ Griffin
***
Smedley led the way. They turned left at the Commons Lobby and left again by the Members' Tea Room. Oscar Salazar was walking close behind Smedley, but Hasan had dropped back.
The corridors were empty, but the droning of the alarm bells only accentuated Smedley's feeling of vulnerability. Too much space, too many crannies, too many corridors. He could have done without this extra trip, at least until Abu Fawaz had had time to set his mines and booby traps.
The cool air outside in Speaker's Court felt good, however. Smedley motioned to Oscar Salazar and Hasan to wait in the doorway while he jogged across to the drain. The cover was still off. Smedley squeezed inside the tiny aperture with the faculty of hard practice and eased himself down to the bottom.
"Paddy? Stevie Boy?" he shouted, crouching at the bottom of the drain, head angled towards the opening of the shaft.
No answer.
The three canvas bags were still waiting intact at by his feet. One at a time he hoisted them on to his shoulders and climbed to ground level, his fingers working deftly on the grips he had cut into the walls.