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‘Hm.’ It had been a clever idea. But if he expected a compliment from me, he would have to wait for a long time. Besides, I was much too interested in something else. ‘What is this mysterious distraction you keep not talking about? How will it direct the attention of Lord Dalgliesh’s guards away from us?’
Retreating behind the cart again, he let his watch snap open a second time.
‘You shall find out in exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds, Mr Linton.’
‘Why not tell me now? Are you absolutely sure it will get the attention of all the guards?’ I persisted. ‘I’m not anxious to get my head perforated, you know. What if your distraction isn’t distracting enough?’
‘I am certain that they will not have eyes - or ears for that matter - for anything else. We will have about a minute before they focus their attention back on the street again.’
Once more, I opened my mouth to ask what was going to happen. But before I could speak, he pointed around the cart towards the corner of number 97’s outer wall.
‘When the distraction occurs, we will head for the corner, understand? I suspect that the gunmen aren’t actually sitting on the roof. More likely, they are looking out through dormers or even lifted roofing tiles. This will mean they will have a blind spot at the corner, where the sides of the roof meet. Once we are across the street and at the wall, they should not be able to see us, and won’t shoot.’
Oh, good. I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘But we should be quick anyway, just in case I am mistaken.’
Not so good.
Mr Ambrose nodded to Karim. ‘You know what to do once we’re there?’
The mountainous Mohammedan nodded, patting the bag slung over his shoulder. Not for the first time, I wondered what was inside.
‘Yes, Sahib.’
‘Adequate.’ Mr Ambrose raised his watch again. ‘Brace yourselves. It will begin in ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one… now!’
Nothing happened.
With an angry snap, Mr Ambrose shut his watch.
‘They’re late,’ he complained. ‘You can’t rely on anybody to be punctual anym-’
Suddenly, there was an almighty clash from the other side of the building. Screams pierced the night over the city. For a moment, I thought that some sort of street brawl had broken out.
Bloody hell! Has he hired people to attack Lord Dalgliesh’s guards? They’ll all be shot down!
But then the clash came again, and it didn’t sound like swords or guns - rather, like a cymbal.
An orchestra attack?
‘What the bloody hell…’ I started to whisper, but was cut off by more screaming. It didn’t exactly sound painful. If I had to choose an adjective, I would have said 'enthusiastic'. But that couldn’t be, could it?
Curiously, I peered around the cart. Coloured lights were visible around the corner of a house. It sounded like people were approaching. But… the sound of the footsteps wasn’t right. It didn’t sound like normal traffic, or even soldiers marching - more like people at a ball, dancing to a rhythm. But who would be crazy enough to stage a ball on a street in the middle of Chinatown, in front of a house with professional gunmen on the roof?
Who do you think?
The sound came nearer - and then, without warning, the head of a giant, red-golden beast appeared in the street. It was at least two yards high, with thick spikes on its forehead and snout. A livid red tongue protruded from its horrifying maul that could surely swallow a girl whole, and as it reared up into the air, a roar and renewed clashing cut through the dark night again.
The monsters eyes fixed directly on me.
I opened my mouth to scream - and a hand clamped down on my lips. ‘I said,’ I heard a very cool, controlled voice at my ear, ‘brace yourselves. That means no horrified screaming.’
‘Bmm! Hmpff!’
My attempts to warn him of the approach of the giant monster went unheard. He pressed down harder.
‘Look,’ he told me. ‘Look closely.’
