As soon as I reached an area of DownTown that I was familiar with, I climbed back down to the streets and continued on foot.� It didn�t take me long to reach the All-Church.� The place was locked up but that wasn�t a problem.� I was heading to the sheds again.
�During my stint as a cleaner at the All-Church, I�d had plenty of opportunity to check out the other volunteers.� One of them, a crazy goat guy called Steve, cleaned all the windows of the All-Church.� I got the impression he just liked being high up, hopping about on one of the tallest buildings in DownTown.� Steve had a variety of ropes, pulleys and other climbing gear, and that was my target.� I didn�t think I�d need the bucket and sponges.
Steve would have put all his gear away neatly in the same shed he always used.� It was the work of moments to break the lock, made easier because I now had a serviceable knife, curtesy of my encounter with a mugger.
Once inside, I was glad to find some respite from the incessant rain.� It was dark inside the shed, so I pulled down my cloak�s hood.� It didn�t take long to find the things I needed and I loaded them into one of Steve�s backpacks.
It doesn�t do to burn bridges and I had no beef with Steve apart from the worry that I would inevitably have to clean him off the All-Church floors after a fall.
I took out the money pouch that I had lifted from the afore mentioned mugger and placed it prominently in the shed. �Someone would find it and hopefully understand.� I thought briefly of Effren, who would no doubt have had some parchment he could use to leave a note.� Sadly, I had neither the tools nor the expertise for such an endeavour, and I had a deadline.
Putting up my hood again, pushing the door closed and shouldering my new backpack, I headed back into the rain.