Page 43 of The Missing Maid
Thankfully, the men behind her had the disadvantage of having spent the evening drinking; when Harry dared a look back, she saw only a few were still chasing her. She could only hope Oliver had been so lucky. Dora seemed to be slowing too – the distance between her and Harry was shortening. But even so, Harry knew she would not catch her before the bright lights of Elephant and Castle came into view and, sure enough, Dora reached the junction well ahead of Harry. She glanced back, caught sight of her pursuer, and danced desperately out into the traffic. Horns blared and brakes screamed but miraculously Dora was not hit.
A tram rolled past, temporarily blocking Harry’s view. Cursing loudly, she hopped up and down on the spot until she could dodge around the end. It took her a moment to locate Dora once more – the girl was faster than Harry could believe. Praying that the vehicles surrounding her would be able to stop, she followed, taking as direct a route as she dared and ignoring the furious cacophony she left in her wake.
Ahead, Dora dodged around a corner, disappearing from view for several long seconds. When she reappeared, Harry guessed she was making for the railway arches on the far side of the junction. She had only given the area a cursory glance while she was waiting for Oliver, not wanting to miss him if he had arrived early, but suspected it must be a rabbit warren of dingy alleyways and places to hide. Forcing her legs to move faster, Harry ran as quickly as she could. If she lost Dora now, she might never find her again.
But luck was on Harry’s side – it appeared Dora was winded. Next to the towering bridge that carried the railway over the streets, the girl paused to look back, clutching at her side. Harry used a bus as cover, hiding behind its bulk as it trundled by and darting into the shadows at the edge of the road to creep nearer to Dora. The girl was still scanning the traffic, catching her breath but ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Even so, she didn’t see Harry until it was almost too late but, right at the very last second, she caught sight of her and took off beneath the arches. Muttering another curse, Harry made chase.
There were no street lamps here. Harry slowed her pursuit, her sense of self-preservation suddenly screaming. The road was gravelly underfoot, littered with holes that would turn an ankle in a second. Beyond the uneven, narrow road, the arches were dark and shadowy, pitch-black in places. In some, fires burned, roaring from metal bins and surrounded by hollow-cheeked men Harry was certain she did not want to meet. Not for the first timethat evening, she was glad of her disguise; the trousers had been easy to run in and her overall appearance meant she should go untroubled by those lurking in the shadows.
Peering ahead, she tried to pick out Dora but saw nothing. If the girl had any sense, she would have gone to ground, burrowing into one of the arches or alleyways until Harry gave up. Breath pluming, Harry tried to second-guess where the girl would hide; she couldn’t be too far away. She crept forwards, eyes straining against the darkness, ears pricked for the slightest sound above the rumble of traffic from the junction. Rounding a corner, she found herself in a dead end. Sheets of corrugated iron leaned against wire fencing that stretched far too high for Dora to have climbed. Harry gazed around in frustration, fighting a rising sense of panic. Where was the blasted girl hiding?
And then she caught a blur of movement from the edge of one eye – a sheet of metal flying through the air and a shape bursting towards her. Before she could move, Dora barrelled into her, hammering the air from her lungs as she bore her to the ground.
For a moment, Harry saw stars. Her head rang from its impact on the dirt and her lungs would not work. She fought desperately to breathe, winded by the brutal collision. A whining rasp escaped her. Black and white dots bloomed before her eyes and she thought she might faint. Then her locked muscles relented and air whooshed into her chest again. She croaked in a breath, blinking in pain as her vision cleared. The dead end swarmed into view again.
Dora was on her in a second, fists and feet lashing out. Purely on instinct, Harry rolled left and stumbled agonisingly to her feet. Her ribs hurt. Her head ached. There was a trickle of something she suspected was blood on her chin. And her cap was on the ground, along with the brown scarf she had tied aroundher hair. Dora stopped, staring at her in amused disbelief. ‘What have we here? If it isn’t Little Miss Perfect, getting in my way again.’
Harry blew out a breath, willing her ringing head to clear. ‘Give yourself up, Dora. There’s nowhere to run.’
The girl laughed. ‘You got me cornered all right. I hope you know how to fight.’
Harry squinted at her opponent. She would fight dirty, that was for sure, but Harry anticipated she would underestimate her. It might give her an advantage, although it would be a slender one at best. Raising her chin, she pushed the sleeves of her threadbare jacket up her arms. ‘I grew up with three brothers,’ she said, shifting her weight to her toes. ‘I’m no stranger to fighting.’
‘Better hope they taught you well,’ Dora snarled. ‘I’m going to grind you into dust otherwise.’
She lunged forward but Harry was ready for her this time. Dancing aside, she thrust out a fist and let out a cry of triumph when it connected with the side of Dora’s head. The girl stumbled but stayed on her feet, wheeling round to wrap her arms around Harry’s waist. Once again, Harry anticipated her move. She spun out of reach and snatched up a handful of dirt, which she threw into Dora’s face. The girl retched and coughed, clutching at her eyes. Harry did not wait for her to recover. Tearing across the yard, she hauled the sheet of iron into the air and launched it at her opponent. Crying out, Dora crumpled into a heap.
Warily, Harry circled just out of reach. She had been fooled by this move before; in the past, Seb had been known to feign injury before sweeping Harry’s feet from under her. Sure enough, Dora waited until she judged Harry was near enough before kicking out. ‘So predictable,’ Harry said as she skipped backwards. ‘Haven’t you got anything else?’
‘I got plenty,’ the girl snarled. Thrusting one hand into a pocket, she pulled out something dark and small. Harry heard a sharp click and saw a silvery glint. A knife, she thought, and her blood ran cold. She’d never faced a weapon before. She would have to concentrate.
Grinning, Dora swiped at her. ‘Scared, are ya?’
Harry shook her head. ‘We don’t have to do this, Dora. Even now, it’s not too late. Hand yourself in and we can help you.’
The blade glinted again. ‘I don’t need your help, Miss Goody-Goody. I was doing fine before you started getting in my way.’ Dora lunged forwards, swiping wildly and missing Harry’s cheek by inches. Harry gasped as it whistled past. Next time she might not be so lucky.
‘We know you’re not working alone,’ she called, watching the girl’s movements intently. If she timed it right, she might knock the knife out of her hand.
‘Of course I’m not,’ Dora sneered. ‘We’ve got people everywhere. You’ve got no idea what you’ve stumbled into.’
She leapt again, slashing viciously, but this time Harry anticipated the attack. Stepping aside, she brought her own hand down in a sharp chopping motion, connecting with Dora’s forearm with a hefty crack. ‘Aaargh!’ Dora bellowed as the knife tumbled from her nerveless fingers. Before she lost momentum, Harry whirled around and stuck out a boot to trip her. Dora hit the ground with a painful-sounding thud.
‘Last chance,’ Harry offered as she kicked the knife into the shadows. ‘Give up now, before one of us gets really hurt.’
The offer only seemed to infuriate Dora more. With a howl of incoherent rage, she got to her feet and charged towards Harry. Poised on the balls of her feet, Harry waited until the very last second to dart aside. Unable to stop, Dora’s roar became a scream as her own momentum carried her hard into the metal sheets that lined the fence. Her cry stopped abruptly as she madecontact and collapsed. Corrugated iron clattered all around her, raising the kind of cacophony that would only attract more attention.
Panting, Harry waited, watching Dora for any movement even as she kept one eye trained on the blackness beyond the clearing. The girl lay still. Cautiously, Harry edged forward. Playing dead was one of Lawrence’s old tricks, although she fervently hoped he had grown out of it now. But Dora did not reach out to wrestle her to the ground. She did not move at all. Harry held a hand in front of the girl’s face, relieved to feel the steady warmth of her breath. With luck, she would not be badly hurt, although she would have an almighty headache when she woke up.
Slowly, wincing at the sudden onslaught of a hundred aches and pains, Harry glanced warily around. Still no one came. Retracing her steps to the entrance of the dead end, she bent to retrieve her hat and scarf. The hat went back on her head but she used the scarf to tie Dora’s hands together, testing the reef knot to make sure it was tight enough to secure the girl but not so tight that it would stop the flow of blood to her fingers. Once she was satisfied, Harry sat back on her haunches, wondering what to do next. If she left Dora here, she could probably find a policeman but she was loath to leave the girl unprotected somewhere so dangerous. No one had come to investigate the sounds of fighting but that did not mean they hadn’t been heard.
But a few minutes later, the dilemma was solved for her: the thunder of running feet on the road outside was followed by the desperate sound of Oliver’s voice. ‘Harry! Harry, where are you?’
With a weary glance at the unconscious Dora, Harry limped out of the yard. ‘I’m here.’
A shadowy figure at the end of the alleyway came hurrying towards her and Harry was relieved to see it was Oliver. He tookone look at her appearance, swore loudly and pulled her into a deep hug. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
Trying to ignore the protests of her bruised ribs, Harry allowed herself a brief smile. ‘And I thought I’d lost you. How did you escape?’
