I ran down the aisle to catch him. He took a sharp right. I took the stairwell and came up on the roof. This is what an agent has to do. I dove over the alley in time to see him look into a barrel. I seized the moment to take out my gun and shoot him. The bullet hit him in the small of his back, and he fell in the bin. I jumped down and looked inside the barrel.
Charles kicked me in the shin and held up my wallet. I bumbled into him, knocking him backward and away from my bills. I nicked my money bag out of the air and ran.
Blood. Everywhere. Again. Blimey. Thrice a day for this past fortnight a murder has happened in just this neighborhood. At least in a few day's time I could get away on the maiden voyage, the Titanic.
Ah, what a lovely day. I kicked back in the Cafe Royale, sipping a latte. The Bobbys would never catch me now.
In the bin was a fortune, a fortune made off of unreal things. Three bulging wallets, a manifest in the newly-invented manila folder, a kipper, a sack of what looked like bottles, three necklaces and a very fancy wrench, all covered in blood. And not just this man's blood. Other blood.
I breathed in the smell of sea water. The Titanic bobbed gently in the waves. Just then, the ship's designer, Thomas Andrews, walked up to me.
"I told them they had nigh enough lifeboats."
"If it's truly unsinkable, why use lifeboats?"
"I am careful."
"Then why call it unsinkable?"
He pondered this question.
And he left.
I ran, ran as fast as I could. I turned around and ran into the bloody Richard the Third. I skidded backward and took a quick butcher's behind me- and crashed into a tall man stalking out of an alley. Yank, by the looks of him. He looked startled, but not as startled as me. Charles also skidded into him, and the man ran after Charles after me. We ran past a cafe where a sleeping-rough-looking man flipped backward over a chair, and the yank stopped on a dime in time to see the rough-and-ready man scapa. He dashed. The yank looked torn between the gander after of Charles and the ugly, as I'll call him. Finally he ran after the butters-man.
Charles chased me pass a boat yard where the Titanic was being constructed. Charles tripped and fell over the deck. Toodle pip, Charles.
I chased the pillock down the street. We both fell in the water. We drowned.
Prologue: I received a newspaper that said:
Blimey- An exclamation of surprise
Bin- Barrel, bucket
Nigh- Not sufficient
Bobby- Police officer
Thrice- Three times
Fortnight- Two weeks
Bumbled- Clumsily stumbled
Stairwell- Staircase, storm escape
Richard the Third- Cockney rhyming slang for turd
Butcher's- Cockney rhyming slang for look; short for butcher's hook
Bloody- Cover-up for a curse
Sleeping Rough- Homeless
Scapa- Run, flee, escape
Gander After- Chase
Toodle Pip- Goodbye