7
By the time I reached Jay, I was already scrambling to retrieve my syrinx pipes. Rooting around inside your own underwear is an inelegant business, but I had not the leisure to care just then. Why do the damned things have to wriggle around so much in there? It’s not like there is much room to manoeuvre; I cannot be said to be incapable of properly filling out a brassiere.
Fortunately, Jay has observed this process before.
‘Behind us!’ I panted, and then wished I had not, for Jay took one look and sped up into a proper sprint, and soon began to draw away from me.
‘Stop!’ I yelled. ‘We can’t outrun them, i***t!’ They were gaining on us already, not least because Katalin, curse her, had legs about three times as long as mine.
There — I had it. My fingers touched metal, and I drew out
