Private Detective Henry McAuley strode into the office, tossing the folded newspaper onto the chair beside him. He always picked one up from the shop on his way to the office, but he rarely ever got past the third page – too busy, he often justified.
Behind him, Mel followed, taking in the surroundings. She'd read volumes about this sort of place in pulpy novels and seen them in just as many films; the putrid residue of tobacco hanging in the air, the blinds overlooking the street below like a security camera, the shelves and filing cabinets filled with card files and papers and documents piled up over the years.
Gingerly, she approached the seat in front of the desk, moving to sit down it in. However, she cleaned the item first – removing the newspaper from the top and brushing off the thin layer of dust covering it. Finally, she lay to rest the item in her hand – the Doctor's umbrella, left behind outside the train station.
"I think we both know why you're here, Miss, er…" the detective started, sitting down behind the desk.
"Oh, Melanie," she replied, opening the newspaper to the puzzle section. "Mel, if you want."
"Mel…" started the reply, a little uncomfortable with the amicability the diminutive presented.
Awaiting the rest of the sentence, Mel pulled out the pencil from her pocket and started the Sudoku, scribbling in the numbers quickly.
"Melanie, I believe you are connected to a series of missing-person cases in the area."
"Me?" she asked in replied, turning away from the newspaper for a second. "What makes you think I've got anything to do with it?"
"For one thing, your friend vanished into thin air at the train station before. For another, I've never seen you around here before."
"There's a lot of people around here," Mel started. "You can't have memorised them all!"
Henry sighed, before pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, followed by a lighter.
"Melanie…" he muttered through pursed lips, holding the cigarette in. "I never forget a face."
The lighter sparked, and a thin trail of mottled grey smoke rose from the tip. He sucked on the brown end, before releasing it from his grip. Suddenly, his chest heaved, a ragged cough forcing its way out of his throat.
"Still…what you suppose I did? People don't just vanish into thin air."
"Well, your little friend did."
"Must've been a trick of the light, I suppose."
The cigarette was placed in the ashtray, and the fiery ashes danced from the end as its owner tapped it against the side.
"I really doubt it," Henry said, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the cigarette. "Because, I this sort of case. It's my speciality, matter of fact." He paused for a second, waiting for a reaction. "You don't seem very worried about your friend..." he added, replacing the cigarette in his mouth.
"Because I'm not. He does this sort of thing quite a lot, if I'm honest." Mel replied, finishing the first Sudoku and moving on to the second. "And besides, there's nothing I can do here. He most likely just ran off, saw something interesting."
"I can have some of my friends look for him, if you like?" Henry offered, holding out the open cigarette carton for Mel. She refused, shaking her head.
"I doubt they could find him!" she said, with the signature of a laugh dancing over her voice. "He's the sort of person that can only be found if he decides it!"
The cigarette now expired, Henry began to rap his fingers across the wooden desk, deep in thought.
"Still, it couldn't hurt…" he muttered, picking up the phone. With a flick of the finger, he hit the speed-dial, and listened to the dialling tone. Eventually, the speaker crackle, and a voice came from the other end.
"Mr McAuley?" the voice said, a little confused and distorted by the phone.
"Di!" he called back, leaning back in the chair. "Any news?"
"Actually, yes, there is…" Di replied, her voice softening a little. "We found something in the panic room, this morning. I thought you might be interested."
"Oh? I'll be around this afternoon," Henry replied, making a note in the diary next to him. "Alright, see you later,"
He put the phone back down in the box, letting it click into death again. Glancing over at the guest, he watched her put the newspaper down on the desk, almost all of the page filled in by the silver graphite.
"That was one of my contacts," he told her, a hint of smugness lacing his voice. "Found something interested at one of the crime scenes,"
"Yes, so I heard." Mel replied. "You'd better go look at it, then."
This threw Henry for a second; not the reaction he was expecting. However, he saw something out of the corner of his eye, just outside the window. It didn't really register until it was too late. Or nearly too late, at least.
Without thought, he leapt forward through the air, over the desk and towards Mel. Together, the two collided, and toppled over backwards, the chair hit the wooden floor, snapping beneath the combined weight.
Before Mel could cry out, she was cut off by a sudden orange glow, and a momentary blast of heat. Within a second, it had faded away again, leaving the two in the office. Henry gasped for breath for a second, and only then did he realised that he'd been holding it in for the last few seconds.
Up this close, their faces only a scant few inches apart, the regular in-out, in-out of his breath so close to her, Mel could hardly breathe for the stench of the cigarettes. She twisted her arms into right angles, and shoved the man off of her front, before standing up.
"What was…" she started, before looking at the office. All around her, the walls and doorframe were blackened, some even still smoking and cindering away. A few minuscule fires raged on the floor, where the ashes had hit the rather flammable carpet. Mel grabbed the grey overcoat from the chair and began to fan at the fires, putting them out.
"Damn hooligans…" Henry muttered, taking the office. Only, after a few seconds of thought, the rage in him floated to the surface, pushing his towards the door at an incredible speed. On the way out of the office, he grabbed the overcoat from Mel and tugged it on, before slamming the door shut behind him.
Mel was left alone in the office, bewildered by the events that had just occurred. No time to think; she made a choice. The fires wouldn't be able to grow much larger, as most of the carpet had been scorched to death and back by the fireball. She frowned for a second – that was sounding a little too…normal, even by her standards.
On the street, surrounded by swarms of people, chattering up and down the pavement, blocking up the road, Henry burst out of the office door, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. For a start, he ducked around the side of the building to check in the alleyway.
Up on the wall, the smashed window was still visible, where the concoction had been thrown inside. Beneath it, still gaping up at the window gormlessly, was a man, early twenties, stocky and short. As he turned around, he caught a glimpse of Henry, and charged down the alley towards him.
Henry extended his arms, ready to catch the man. Three, two, one…he only felt the wind get knocked out of him, as the man dug his shoulder into Henry's stomach on the way past, knocking him to the side slightly. He then took off down the street, away from the building and into the masses of people.
A moment later, Mel exited the office, hot on Henry's heels. She was too late as well; the most she could catch was the fluttering grey overcoat flapping in the wind, like a pair of great insect wings, propelling Henry forward, into the relentless masses of humanity.
The two men flew down the street, each slaloming out of the way of the people and stalls and cars and bikes blocking the way between each other. Whenever he had enough breath to spare, Henry would call out for the man, ordering him to stop, but each time was ignored or just not heard.
A good few yards behind the pursuit was Mel, desperately gasping for breath, falling behind in the chase, a few inches at a time. Slowly, the crowd began to reform in front of her, after being separated by the duo sprinting ahead of her. Her arms flailed in front of her, the black umbrella almost a blur.
The chase turned down a corner, heading towards a side street. It was a small, disused section of the city, where shops could have the weekly supplies dropped off, or people could gather and try to smoke in private, away from the prying eyes of the high street.
Fortunately, the area was completely empty, with only the one archway leading in and out of the urban courtyard. A fire escape trailed towards the ground, and several translucent windows overlooked the scene, but apart from that, it was almost man stopped, gasping for breath, resting his hands on his knees and his shoulders on his arms.
Henry reached him a moment later, in somewhat better shape. Nonetheless, the thin beads of sweat bounded from his forehead, with the brilliant sun playing no small part. Finally, after a few seconds, Mel caught up, her ginger locks bouncing around her head as she jogged over to Henry.
"What…" she gasped, through gulps of air. "Was all that about?"
In response, Henry walked over to the man and shoved him, knocking him onto the floor.
"This is the scumbag that firebombed my office!" cried Henry, towering over the specimen.
"What?" Mel asked, dumbfounded.
Henry rotated around to face her.
"Don't tell me you missed that?!" he hollered, on the edge of bewilderment.
However, before Mel could respond, the man kicked out his leg, catching Henry on the ankle and sending him toppling to the ground. The detective cried out in pain for a second, whilst the man ran over to the fire escape, arms chopping through the air expertly and precisely.
Mel gave chase almost instantly – now, it was her turn. As the man leapt at the brick wall, letting his feet bounce off of it and throw him a few feet in the air. Using his new height, he snagged the lowest rung of the ladder and began to climb, adding his feet when high enough.
By the time Mel reached the fire escape, he was already on the fire platform, around 8 feet above her. Whatever her plan now, it certainly wasn't to mimic his gymnastics – not in this sun and definitely not in this dress! However, there was no need. She grabbed onto the scarlet tip of the umbrella, and raised it in the air, hooking the metal rod and pulling the ladder down.
As the ladder hit the stony ground with a clang, the man was already at the next level of the fire escape, making quick work of it. Mel followed suit, climbing the first ladder.
From across the courtyard, Henry watched as the two climbed up the side of the building, moving closer and closer to the apex. With great effort, he managed to heave himself onto his feet, and stagger over towards the fire escape.
The man had reached the fifth and final level of the fire escape, and realised the flaw in his plan. At the top platform, there was one door, a fire door…which was locked. From the inside. There wasn't a lock or bolt that could be opened from this side, only the curved bar on the other side that could open it. And with the woman very nearly on his doorstep…he was running out of time.
There was one possibility – the roof above him. It was eight foot above, at least, but it was worth a shot. As he jumped at the roof, his fingers managing to find a hold on the corner, Mel came charging up the final ladder, grabbing his legs and pulling him towards the ground in one swift motion.
As the two lay on the grille, Mel became very aware of how high up she was…falling off wouldn't do her ribs any favours, that was for sure. The man sent his forearm flying towards Mel, and she grabbed the umbrella in reaction, holding it out in front of her. The attack failed, the umbrella holding in place.
However, the man flew to the side of the fire escape, pressing his hands against the solid door, before kicking backwards again. The effect forced Mel to the side, and over the edge of the platform…
All she could see was the man, now free from his pursuer, jump over onto the next roof, leaving her alone, dangling from the platform, clinging onto the umbrella clamped in her hands, which was hooked onto one of the bars of the platform.
Reluctantly, Mel felt her grip loosen, and glanced down beneath – at her feet, where they always were, five foot from her head…and the ground, a seemingly infinitely further distance below…