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.