For the umpteenth time she questioned her decision to be here at all. She looked at her watch it was three minutes to two.For fully fifteen minutes no... she had been in this doorway watching the black iron railings, shaped like upright spears that barred the entrances to the three-storey early Victorian mansions. Watching, in particular, the heavy gate by which one entered to descend to George's apartment. In that time no-one had come or gone through it.Again Jane looked at her watch. It was two. About halfway up, with the closest mob punk about four steps behind and wielding a pipe, the noise of a reeved motorcycle engine could be heard at the top of the stairs. Heavy Metal Thunder, still in a dead run, looked up and saw the punk on the motorcycle, who smiled and said, ‘You’re mine!’ Pulling a rather thick chain from a saddle bag on the motorcycle with a whip like motion he started twirling the chain in the air, and reeved up the engine again as he began rolling the motorcycle down the. More

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