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Below, the teen was clinging to and doing a credible job of climbing up the seawall. It was about ten feet or more from the edge to the small strip of pavement behind the building. There was nowhere to go once the kid made it up. Just a narrow strip of concrete and the sheer wall of the building. At each end, a tall fence topped with razor wire prevented access to any other part of the Smith Agency property.
“I say the kid is here to tag the place.” Leck pantomimed wielding a can of spray paint. He was an extreme sports guy, so this kind of urban adventuring might be within his expertise.
“You think he’ll try to climb the building?” Noah, who just joined us, asked, looking over the edge to see what all the excitement was.
Leck reached over the side and touched the building, testing the texture. “Nah, not without equipment. Unless there’s a ladder or something. Not even I could scale this.”
Below us, the kid had pulled himself up on the ledge behind the building and was lying on his side, coughing. A puddle was forming around his sopping wet clothes.
The glare of a Maglite coincided with the rattle of the gate being opened in the security fence. Steel had arrived.
The wind whipped away whatever Steel shouted, but when the flashlight beam landed on the teen, we all gasped.
“That’s not a kid. It’s a woman,” Derek said.
The End
