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Was I followed? The courtyard below was deserted, exactly as he had seen it when he entered.
He listened.
Silence. So why am I uneasy? Long ago Silas had learned to trust his intuition.
Intuition had kept him alive as a child on the streets of Marseilles long before prison... long before he was born again by the hand of Bishop Aringarosa.
Peering out the window, he now saw the faint outline of a car through the hedge.
On the car's roof was a police siren.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
A door latch moved.
Silas reacted on instinct, surging across the room and sliding to a stop just behind the door as it crashed open.
The first police officer stormed through, swinging his gun left then right at what appeared an empty room.
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