Soloman waited one minute before he moved. In seconds he reached the fire escape and descended, moving fast to slide down the ladder and hit the ground hard. Roving eyes alert to everything and everyone, he walked slowly up the alley and across the street. Then he strolled down the adjoining alley where he moved behind the gun shop, checking for tramps or vagrants or witnesses. But there was only an old wino collapsed in a cardboard box. Soloman moved past him without a sound, knowing that no plan was perfect but not wanting to hurt anyone. In seconds he was at the back door and took a small grappling hook that he'd bought from a military surplus store. He whirled it and threw high and then he was climbing, gaining the roof, staying low. He pulled the rope up behind him, just as he'd been trained to do. He drew the Cold Steel tanto, the only weapon he'd managed to retain during the long conflict, and moved behind the heating unit to stab the tarmac savagely.
