Chapter 3 What Would James Bond Do?
Roland looked up towards his flat and saw a head poking out of the window, and he heard the man speak to someone else inside ‘He’s still on the pole – shall I see if I can shoot him from here?’ The answer must have been no! The man disappeared from view, and he heard the window close. Roland thought of his hero, James Bond, he had seen all of his films, but nothing with a flag pole. Roland was in a bit of a pickle anyway, even if he was able to stand on the flagpole and reach the window to tap it – he just remembered the couple were away on holiday for a month and if, by some chance, those thugs were able to gain access to the vacant flat by some pretence or other; he was going to meet his maker anyway. The only way out was in a down ward direction, for the flat below had what was known as an ornamental balcony, a very narrow piece of concrete jutting out about a foot wide with an iron fence surrounding it and fixed to the wall and with metal window boxes in front of patio doors that folded into four sections to allow fresh air in on a hot sunny day. Only a few flats had them and as luck would have it below the flagpole was one of these balconies. If Roland hung from the pole he could just about dangle his feet inside perimeter of the iron fence. If he dropped, his weight might bring the whole thing down – so first of all he would have to make sure someone was in first to try and catch their attention, but how was he going to do that? He had a brainwave. He decided that would be the only way for him to go. First thing he needed to take off his belt that was an easy task and buckled it round the pole. The next move was going to be more delicate and very tentatively bent forward along the length of the pole and stretching his left hand backwards towards his shoe undid the laces of his shoe and lifted it off his foot. Clasping the shoe close to his chest, he moved to an upright position and leant back against the wall. Undoing the shoelaces until the last two eyelets he tied a granny knot and then tied the rest of the lace to the buckle. Removing the car keys from his pocket, he managed to thread the key ring clip through the last eyelet of the belt. Taking his handkerchief out of his top pocket he tied it to another ringlet giving that extra length. This of course took the best part of an hour, and it was well after midnight when his knocker-up was fully assembled. Gripping the handkerchief in his left hand he swung the belt outwards, and it came back towards the window as a light was put on in the room. He heard voices as doors were opened, and he retrieved his makeshift contraption. Two heads appeared round the edge of the door and looked up. Roland sighed with relief and saw it was the owners of the flat.
Chapter 4 Hot Chocolate
After an exchange of words and some tricky manoeuvring by Roland he was sitting in their lounge with a cup of hot chocolate trying to explain what had happened to him. He thanked them for their kindness and was about to leave when they all heard an exchange of gunfire. After awhile it quietened down and Roland left and walked to the lift. The belt with key-ring, shoe and handkerchief slung around his neck looked unusual to the casual onlooker as he limped into the lift. The others who were already in the lift looked down at his feet. He was first to get out two floors up and turned and faced them and said. ‘You just don’t want to know!’ and with that he disappeared from their sight.
His flat was swarming with armed policemen – one dead body in a sitting position in front the window and two others slightly wounded and in handcuffs sitting back to back on kitchen chairs. The walls and woodwork were peppered with bullet holes and all his double glazed windows were smashed. Dirty cups and saucers were strewn all over his once clean fitted carpets and the settee had a huge gaping hole right in the middle. No one had challenged him when he came in walking over his front door which had been damaged earlier by the three gangsters.
One of the two handcuffed looked up at Roland as he was gazing round his flat looking at all the damage that had been done spoke to him.
‘Hey you’re not John Hoover – Who are you?’
‘Roland James, the owner of this flat which you have ruined.’
The gangster nudged the other gangster by leaning his head backwards to knock his colleague’s head.
‘Looks like we were after the wrong guy – you look the spitting image of Miss Joanna Sheffield’s bodyguard. You know our boss, he’s going to marry her in two months time.’
The other man said, ‘Shh!’ and pointed with his face towards the police.
One of the policemen came over to Roland and said,
‘You own this flat?’
‘Yes!’ said Roland, ‘What’s left of it.’
‘As soon as we are finished we will get your front door fixed tonight – call in at the police station in the morning and we will sort all the other things out with you.’
Two stretcher bearers came in and lifted the dead man onto it and then Roland noticed the chalk outline on the wall and carpet. The two gangsters stood up and walked out with the police escorting them. A few moments later a carpenter arrived and re-fixed his door and changed the locks and handed Roland the new keys. Roland signed the carpenter’s paperwork – he left and Roland slumped down in an armchair completely exhausted and fell asleep.
