Quentin James and the Undercover Agent

Without wasting a second, Bluey jumped over the low brick wall and ran along the ridge of the roof, heedless of the ground being a very long way down.

Quentin didn’t stop to think either and went after her.

Bluey, with her natural perfect balance, raced along the roof, clambering over low walls and jumping the gaps. The red eyes had disappeared almost immediately, but she hoped she’d catch him up here.

Suddenly she heard a cry behind her and almost skidded off the roof as she tried to stop her herself too quickly.

‘Quentin!’ she cried. Racing back the way she had come.

She ran right past the point where Quentin hung from his fingertips, the ground seemingly trying to drag him to his death, waiting for his body to smack into it with a bloody splat!

‘Here.’ she heard him cry, the fear and desperation in his voice making her tummy flip.

She turned around and slowly made her way back along the spine of the roof tops looking down either side to see if she could see him, fearing she wouldn’t be in time.

‘Please help.’

His cries cut her, and she sobbed, she couldn’t find him.

‘Where are you, I cannot see you?’

Again Quentin cried, ‘Here.’

Out of the corner of her eye Bluey saw his hand waving.

Oh thank god.

‘Hold on, I’m coming.’

She raced along the roof until she was standing opposite where he had slipped down. She didn’t know what to do, how could she get to him?

Laying down she tried to stretch out her arm, but it was just too short. Another sob escaped.

The roof was so tiny. She thought about sliding down herself but knew that would only end up with both of them plunging to their deaths. She lowered her body down, holding on to the ridge.

‘Grab my boots,’ she cried.

She felt his hand on her boot.

‘Yes! Climb up me, I can hold you.’

She felt his weight pull on her arms, the strain immediately taking its toll.

Wow, he is heavier than I thought. She felt her hands slip.

‘Quick! My hands are slipping.’

She felt Quentin struggling below and then to her horror she felt her boots suddenly move an inch.

‘My boots, they’re coming off,’ she cried.

She could feel his efforts to heave his body up and her boots slid another two inches off her feet.

‘Quentin, hold on, this is not going to work,’ she yelled, ‘quick!’

She felt her boots slide off her feet and a moment or two later heard them smack onto the courtyard below.