The House of Doors - 01 Read Free

crush now down the Royal Mile. “Ten to midnight!” someone shouted, and the crush moved that much faster.
    “They’re all off to the Auld Cross!” The girl was breathless, excited. She smiled at Bannerman. “Shall we no join them?”
    “The Auld Cross?” he repeated. “Is it something special?”
    “What, the Mercat Cross? You’re no much of a tourist, eh?”
    Again he shrugged. “Are you on your own?” he asked. Strange if she was, for by local standards she’d be very attractive.
    The smile left her face in a moment. “Ah say I am,” she muttered, “but the two who filled me wi’ drink would probably dispute it. Aye, and ah know what they were after, too.”
    She glanced again at the receding crowd, peered into the crush of faces and figures—and gasped. She drew Bannerman into the shadows. “They’re there,” she whispered. “Lookin’ for me!”
    He peered out from cover. The “two” she was afraid of stood out clearly in the crowd. Where all else was drunken or half-drunken or at the very least tipsy merriment, these two were sober, furtive, sneaky, intent. All eyes were bright but theirs were even brighter. Their smiles were frozen on their faces until they were little more than grimaces painted there. They’d lost something, someone, and were intent upon finding her again.
    In the local parlance they’d be “hard men,” Bannerman reckoned, and eager. They’d sniffed the spoor, come close to snaring the game, and now the chase was on for real. And he, Bannerman, might easily get caught up in it. Of course, he could simply walk away. But on the other hand …
    Across the narrow road, stone steps went steeply down into the darkness of a maze of streets. With everyone heading for the Mercat Cross, the levels down there would be deserted. Bannerman looked back into the shadows, took the girl’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
    She shrank back, whispered, “I don’t want they two tae see me!”
    “They’ve gone,” he lied. For in fact the two men were standing in the doorway eyeing the stragglers, their eyes flitting this way and that.
    “clone?” she repeated. “No, they’ll be waitin’ doon the Mile. At the Cross. It’s only five minutes now.”
    “Then we’ll cross the road and go down those steps there.”
    “We? Are ye comin’ wi’ me, then?”
    Again Bannerman’s shrug. “If you wish.”
    “No verra eager for it, are ye?” Again she’d cocked her head on one side. She had dark hair, gleaming green eyes, a lush mouth. “No like they two. But ah know them. They like a’ sorts of weird games, them. Well, are ye keen or no?”
    Not very, Bannerman thought—but out loud he said, “Come on.”
    They left the shadows, crossed the road. Even the stragglers were thinning out now. The girl’s pursuers were moving off, their faces angry, following the crowd. Then one of them glanced back, saw Bannerman and the girl starting down the steps and out of sight.
    Bannerman thought, Maybe now that she’s with someone, they won’t bother her.
    Down the steps they went, the girl much recovered now, almost dragging Bannerman after her. “This way, this way!” she hissed back to him, leading him through the dark alleys between high stone walls. She knew the maze of streets intimately, and the urge was on her to know Bannerman that way, too.
    In his pocket the recorder worked on, noting every smallest detail of what was occurring here. Then—
    “Here,” said the girl. “Here!” The alley was narrow, dark, cold and dry. In the shadows on one side stood an arched-over alcove. There’d been a door here once, now obliterated with mortar and smooth stone. She drew Bannerman in, shivered, swiftly unfastened the buttons of his coat, and crept in with him. Her clothes were flimsy and he could feel her body pressed to him. “There,” she said, opening her blouse for him. “See?”
    Bannerman saw, even in the dark. Her breasts were perfectly shaped,