Chapter 19: The Roof

Kirk's POV

I cut the alarm wire at six that evening, with the first cars already turning up the drive.

I had a dark suit in a dry-cleaning bag over my shoulder and a pair of cutters in my jacket.

The cottage door was locked, so I used the brass key Camilla's mother had given her.

Chadwick was sitting at the little table in his cardigan, with the roast beef cut into squares.

He looked up and saw the suit.

He put down his fork.

"Not tonight," he said. "Kirk, please, not tonight."

"It's tonight."

"I'll give you whatever you like. Lisbon, the half million, the flat. I'll put it in your name."

"I don't want it."

"Everybody wants it."

He stood, and he was taller than I remembered.

For a second I thought he would hit me.

Instead he turned and ran for the stairs.

There was a ladder in the hall, folded against the ceiling, and he pulled it down with one hand.

He went up it fast, and a hatch banged open above me.

I climbed after him.

The roof was slate, still warm from the day, with a low brick chimney at one end.

Chadwick stood by the chimney with his arms out for balance.

Below us the lawn was strung with paper lanterns, and four hundred voices came up from the main house.

"You'll fall," I said.

"Then I fall."

"You won't. You've never done a brave thing in your life."

"That's true," he said, almost cheerfully. "It's why I'm still alive."

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