screech of tyres, a panic-stricken blast on a car horn, and a great eruption of noise. The car that had been pursuing him was keeping him in sight by driving in the wrong direction up a one-way street on one side of the square.
Bond skated frantically across the road before an approaching tide of traffic. The pursuing car, having completed a circuit of the square, now came at him again, travelling this time with the flow of traffic and closing on him. He still could not see who was in the car, but he knew it was after him and he was desperate to keep ahead, not knowing what strange weapons or means of control they might possess. At any moment they might give up this clumsy means of pursuit for something more subtle and effective—a flip or a jump through space—but perhaps in the city even the Wirdegen feared the effect of a jump which twisted not only space but time itself.
"Evade," instructed Solita. "They are close." A slot of shadow appeared to Bond's left. He whisked into a long, narrow alley between two shops. There was a notice asking that the entrance be kept clear of vehicles at all times but a fraction of an instant later, to Bond's astonishment and horror, the big black car turned across the path of a cyclist and careered into the alleyway. Bond hadn't thought there was sufficient room for the car but it managed to fit in, just grazing the walls on either side, and he realized it was blocking his only exit. There were windows set high up but they were all shut, and in fact looked as if they had never been opened. Skating at full speed Bond burst into a square grey courtyard filled with empty crates, cardboard boxes and a lot of rubbish bins. Several back doors of shops opened into this yard. The car was right on his heels. It could have run him down if it had wanted to.
"Can you lift me?" he shouted.
"Evade!" commanded Solita, the pitch of her voice blurring a little, sounding more machine-like than it had before. A door opened and Bond saw a hand throwing paper into the courtyard, most of which missed the big rubbish bins. He seized the edge of the door, jerked it wide open and spun his way in, pushing a surprised young woman to one side. He banged the door behind him, automatically checking it for bolts and slamming the only one home.
"Hey! What are you doing?" screamed the girl. He had burst into a workshop filled with machines, two printing presses, a paper guillotine and racks of paper and card of different colours and sizes. Bond shot in between the printing presses without hesitation, evading one man and causing another to drop the pile of blank, pink paper he was carrying. Bond banged his hip on a protruding piece of machinery and then was gone almost before they realized he was among them. Behind him he heard a splintering crash. The bolt burst off the door with the impact of something driving against it from the outside. Indignant cries rose again at this second and more violent invasion. Bond slid between two offices and into a shop filled with paper, pens, paints and envelopes and saw his way clear before him. He rushed headlong through the shop and out the glass doors onto the footpath, where he spun around looking for a new direction.
Once more he vaguely sensed the stone nudging him in some way. Raising his eyes Bond saw a large, glittering sign that seemed to draw him towards it—MR CHOPPERLOX, UNISEX HAIR STYLIST, it read. Parked beneath the sign was a battered, green car and leaning across from the passenger's side, staring at him as if she had been waiting for him for a long time, was a girl with blonde, bubbly curls. Their eyes met. She reached over behind her and opened the back door of the car. Bond raced across the road, his hands clasped over his head as if he expected something to fall from out of the sky. Narrowly avoiding a motorcycle he reached the car, threw himself in and heard the door slam behind him.
"Object anomaly," said Solita in his ear, and Bond felt the cold, shivery
Learning to Kill: Stories