Flash! Fiction 3 by Peter McMillan - HTML preview

78

The End

He really couldn't say how he'd go there — 160 storeys up on Van-couver's SinoCanAm Oil Building — on a typically cold, wet night in late December. There were no explanations, only a few clues.

He was wearing a bright red mac that he said he'd found on the street during the city's latest occupy protests. It was a good fit and warmer and drier than his raincoat.

SCAB, its nickname in some circles, was the tallest building on the West Coast. No wonder it attracted crowds. Up there, you could see the snowflakes before they melted into an ugly spitting rain. Not a good enough reason to be there though.

The sounds of sirens were funneled up the concrete, glass and steel walls, but they could have been for anybody, or everybody if you believed some of the people on the street ... so not a good clue.

Behind him was a coiled rope with some rappeling gear. He knew the gear. It was for mountain climbing. Beside the rope was a tightly rolled-up banner, white with red lettering showing through.

He turned aside to get more light so he could check his watch — a Rolex. Odd.

Close to the edge, but not close enough to get a good look over. As if afraid of falling. Also odd.

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"Why were you up there, Mr., uh, Sebastian?"