South by South East by Anthony Horowitz Page A

before we were taken.
    There was a window at the end of the corridor. Pulling Tim with me, I went over to it. The window was at the back of the house. There was a narrow alley – about two metres across – and then a lower building. The roof of the other building was a few metres below us. It was flat, covered in black asphalt.
    “We can jump,” I said.
    “We can’t,” Tim quavered.
    “We’ve got to.” I opened the window and Tim and I crawled out onto the sill. The handcuffs didn’t make it easy. We hovered there for a few seconds. Behind us, I could hear the police racing up the stairs.
    “Jump!”
    I launched myself into space. Tim did the same. Like some sort of clumsy, prehistoric bird we soared out of the house. For a horrible moment I thought I wasn’t going to make it. And if I didn’t make it, nor would Tim. The chain would drag him back and we’d both end up as so many broken bones on the pavement below. But then the asphalt roof rushed up and hit me in the chest. My legs still hung in space but enough of me had reached the building to save me. I twisted to the right. Tim was lying beside me.
    “Close…” he rasped and wiped his brow. He used the chained hand and I had to wipe his brow too.
    The building was some sort of office block. We found a skylight in, a flight of stairs down and a glass door out. Nobody saw us go. There were about a dozen police cars parked in the street at the front but everybody was concentrating on Mrs Jackson’s guest house so we simply walked away. We held hands until we were round the corner. But then, of course, we were still very much attached.

TRAIN REACTION
    Getting across London again wasn’t easy – but we had no choice. If we really were heading for Amsterdam, that meant a ferry from Dover. If we wanted to get to Dover we had to start at Victoria. And that meant holding hands through Hyde Park and on through Knightsbridge to the other side of London.
    The chances of our reaching Victoria without being seen must have been a thousand to one against, but somehow we managed it. We emerged in front of the main forecourt where the taxis and buses were locked into what had become a frozen mosaic of black and red. All we had to do now was to find the right train.
    “Where’s the ticket-office?” I muttered the question more to myself than to Tim but unfortunately he heard me.
    “I’ll ask,” he said. He turned to someone standing nearby. “Excuse me,” he went on. “Can you tell me where the ticket-office is?”
    “Certainly, sir. It’s through the main entrance and on the left.”
    It was the “sir” that alerted me. I looked round and nearly died on my feet. Tim had just asked a policeman.
    Even then we might have slipped away. But Tim had realized what he had done. He went bright red. He squeaked. He hid his head behind his arm. If the policeman hadn’t noticed him before, he couldn’t help but look twice then. I hurried Tim away. But it was already too late. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the policeman staring after us. He was talking into his radio at the same time.
    We didn’t buy a ticket. I knew that the police would soon be after us and that would be the first place they’d look. Our only chance was to get out of Victoria as quickly as possible on a train. I dragged Tim across the main concourse. There was a train to Dover leaving in nine minutes. Would it pull out before the police pulled in? I decided to take a gamble. We took the train.
    As we climbed on, Tim stopped me. “Look!”
    I followed his eyes. “Network South East!” he explained.
    It was true. We were travelling Network South East. The words were written on the side of the carriage. “So what?” I asked.
    “We’re going south by South East!” Tim said.
    I had to admit that he had a point. South by south east. Was that what McGuffin had meant by his final words? “Let’s get on,” I said.
    We walked down the train, looking for the quietest carriage. We were