He climbed down on to another roof, crossed it, and as he was peering down at the roof below, he heard an excited shout away to his right.
He looked quickly over his shoulder, his heart pounding.
Across the alley, standing on a balcony, he could just make out a man and a woman looking in his direction. The man waved at him, then he bawled at the top of his voice: “Hey! “A guy’s up on the roof. Over there!”
Ken swung his legs over the edge of the roof and dropped, landing with a thud. He staggered, regained his balance, as police whistles shrilled in the darkness below.
He bolted across the roof, then came to an abrupt stop when he found himself face to face with a twelve-foot brick wall.
Below, he could hear running feet, and then someone began to hammer on a door that seemed immediately below him.
He moved hurriedly along the wall until he came upon an iron ladder.
“Hey! You!” a voice shouted.
Ken didn’t pause. He went up the ladder, scraping his hands and knees, and as he reached the top of the wall, a gun banged and splinters of brickwork sprayed dangerously near his face.
He let himself drop into the darkness and landed on another roof.