Four quick steps under the
trellis across the back garden and then he was inside the garage. He locked the
door. Like the secret door out of the kitchen it wasn’t made of particle board
with a skinny fascia, but of solid oak.
It would hold.
The garage faced onto the laneway. The Kombi was there, facing outwards. He always reversed it into the garage to make
sure he was ready to go whenever he needed to.
He paused to think for a minute.
There was no point taking the Kombi.
First, it was so slow, especially up hills. And second, it had St Joseph’s name painted
on its side. If the police knew about
him, they’d surely know about the van too.
He had to assume they’d know everything. The Toyota was much more anonymous. They might have the number, but they wouldn’t
get the roadblocks up in time. He’d be
at Mt Macedon before them.
He shifted some planks and
boxes off a locked box, unlocked it with a key from his ring, and took out a
pistol. He slid the pistol into a green
shopping bag, and went out to the Toyota parked in the street.
Driving cautiously, just
below the speed limit, he made his way through the empty streets to the twink’s
flat.
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