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.