Cold Press, page 19
I hated being called a bitch, almost as much as I hated being called cute, but for once I chose not to answer back. I opened the door and got out.
“Walk round the car and put your hands on the roof.”
Again I did as I was asked. The biker fired a shot at the front drivers’ side tyre, deflating it instantly, and proving to me that the gun was loaded.
Without another word, he got back on his bike, revved his engine and turned away from the car, pausing only to look at me, as though having second thoughts about leaving me alive, and then roared off into the distance. Shocked, I sank to the ground, paralysed by fear.
And then I heard footsteps running towards me. I looked up, dazed, with no idea what was going to happen next. Thankfully it was Barry, a look of deep concern on his face.
He said something like: “What happened, are you all right?”
I heard the words but my mind was a blur. I couldn’t reply. I could only follow as he led me to the safety of reception.
“You wait here, I’ll call the police,” he said, sitting me down on one of the leather sofas.
That was the jolt I needed to find my voice.
“No! Not the police. Please. It was nothing, really.”
“I hardly call what I saw nothing.”
“No, believe me. Call National Breakdown or ATS or somebody, but not the police. They wouldn’t be able to help. Honestly.”
Barry remained unconvinced, but seemed moved by the pleading look on my face.
“Listen, pet, a man with a gun just shot your tyre out. I’ve got to call the police. I wouldn’t be doing my job... “
“I know, but trust me. It’s a long story.” I took a deep sigh and tilted my head back, looking at the ceiling. “You can call the police if you like but just do it after I’ve left. Please? I’ve got to get away from here. You’ve seen what he did. He doesn’t want me to follow but I’ve got to.”
“You’ve got to follow him?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean you know who he was?”
“Kind of. But you know what, it’s a long story. Please just get National Breakdown to come out with a tyre, and then once I’ve gone you can do anything you like.”
“Wait there.”
He went to talk to a colleague, and then the two came back to see me.
“You look shaken,” said the new arrival, whose name tag said Phil.
“I’m fine, honestly. If you’ve got a cup of tea or something that’d be great, but really I just need to get away.” They looked at each other, and then Phil nodded and went off, presumably to put the kettle on. Barry sat next to me, his face a picture of concern.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “Have you got a spare tyre?”
“I think so.”
“And you’re in National Breakdown?”
“Yeah, I never use it, but yes.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do then. I’ll give them a ring and see how long they’ll take for a call out. If it’s going to be too long, I’ll fit it for you. And then when you’re sorted, we’ll call it in. All right?”
“Perfect,” I said, “you’re a diamond.”
He looked up the number, and made the call. He asked for my registration number and gave the address of the business park. Then he put the phone down and turned to me.
“Half an hour they reckon. Is that all right?”
“Brilliant.”
“They said they’d need your membership card. Have you got it on you?”
“It’s in the glove compartment.”
“Give us your keys then and I’ll get it for you.” I handed him my keys and gave a warning about the faulty locks. He returned a minute later with my National Breakdown membership pack and put it down on the counter.
“I’ll tell you what, he did a canny job,” he said, as his colleague brought me a cup of tea. I took it with thanks and settled down to wait. I was beginning to worry about Danny. Worrying that he was okay, and concerned that he’d be worried about me.
Half an hour later, on the dot, a National Breakdown van pulled up, and the mechanic came in and asked me what the problem was. I took him out to the car and he started work, jacking up the front right corner so he could remove the old wheel and replace it with my spare. I went back inside to wait.
“Everything all right, Anna?” Barry asked when I returned, putting my membership pack back down on the counter. It looked like he’d been reading it. I didn’t spot the danger until it was too late.
“Yeah, he’s sorting it. Shouldn’t be too long,” I said.
“And is there anything else I can do for you while you wait?” He paused. “Anna.”
At that moment I knew my cover was blown.
Back at the flat, Danny was experiencing the first pangs of a new attack of worry. An hour had passed. She should have been back by now. Nothing had happened at the flat. Nobody had arrived, and he hadn’t found anything of interest when he’d undertaken another search. But she definitely should have been back by now. The feeling of panic grew more intense, as though he was standing in quicksand, watching the water level rise.
He thought he heard the gate creaking outside and was torn between going to look and the safe option of hiding in a wardrobe. He decided on the latter, but with his heart rate quickening, he could barely contain his excitement.
After five minutes in the wardrobe, there was still no further movement outside. Danny edged open the door and peered into the late afternoon semi-darkness of the bedroom. Gaining in confidence with every second, he crept out and moved along the wall towards the door. Again there was no sound. He moved through to the front room. Nobody was there. Ever so gingerly he edged towards the front door, which was still firmly closed. Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, he looked out of the window.
The gate was slightly open, but there was still no sign of life. Then, from nowhere, a gust of February wind moved the gate even further ajar. Danny jumped but nobody appeared. A storm seemed to be brewing. The light was fading. Danny felt a shiver run down his spine.
And then the phone started ringing. Tentatively, he answered it.
“Hello, Danny,” said a female voice with a soft Scottish accent.
26
I HAD some explaining to do. Apparently tricking your way past the reception of a security company with a fake ID was frowned upon.
“Ah,” I said, when asked what I was up to. “Told you, it’s a bit of a long story.”
Barry didn’t look pleased. I had a feeling I was going to find it difficult to protest my innocence. He’d taken me to a small office on the ground floor that only contained a light oak table and three vinyl-covered chairs. The window was barred. He was threatening to call the police again, and that could lead to any number of complications. What had started as a good idea had become a nightmare.
Through the door I heard the mechanic in reception dropping off my keys, saying that the car was ready. That was something. But I was no nearer to getting back on the road. I tried to give a brief summary, leaving out some of the details. Barry wasn’t entirely convinced.
“So, to recap, you’re working undercover on the trail of a missing person?”
“Yes.”
“But you won’t tell me who.”
“Well, it’s not so much won’t as can’t.”
“But you can’t say why you can’t.”
“Again, difficult.”
“So how do I know that you’re not just trying to nick post from paying customers? Customers, I may add, who get things sent here for precisely the reason that they don’t want them stolen.”
“Yes, I can see why you might think that,” I said, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.
“Look, Barry,” I pleaded. “I know this doesn’t look good. But you’ve got to believe me. Clare is a journalist. I don’t know if you know her. She works for the Daily Echo.”
“Which I’ve heard of, obviously. Go on.”
“You know the thing about a journalist being legally bound to protect their sources?”
“No, but...”
“Well anyway, they are. She’s working on a story and it’s kind of proving a bit tricky.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So she gave me the key and asked me to come up here and check her box. It’s basically that.” I hoped my cheeky smile would work its magic, but it seemed to be missing the mark. There was a knock on the door. Phil came in with my keys and National Breakdown membership pack, placing them on the desk between us.
“Car’s fixed,” he said. And then left us to it.
“I wouldn’t have the key, would I? If I was just a thief,” I continued as the door closed. “But it is urgent. Because the bastard with the gun has just pinched the stuff I was supposed to be collecting and I’ve got to go and find him before the whole thing goes tits up.”
I still wasn’t sure if I was making progress. It was time to gamble.
“Tell you what. Ring her. She’ll confirm it for you. You’ve got her number I assume?”
“We will have, somewhere.” I just had to hope it was the number of the flat in Sunderland rather than London.
“Perfect. Get the number, and give her a call. If she’s not there, ask for her husband, Danny.” It pained me to say that. “He’ll verify it. But if you could do it quite quickly it would be really much appreciated.”
“Wait here,” he said, and then left the room, locking the door behind him.
* * *
Barry came back, and I expected to be released.
“Did you ring her?” I asked.
“I did, but there was no answer. So we’re no further forward.”
“Shit.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to call the police. I should have done it about the car anyway. When they get here, you can tell them what you’ve told me. And if they believe you it’s up to them, but until then you’re staying.”
“God,” I said, out of sheer frustration. And then I saw an opportunity and acted on it.
“Do you mind if I switch the light on?” I asked.
When Barry gave his consent I stood up and moved to the light switch, turning on the fluorescent strip in the centre of the ceiling. They do have their uses after all. Time to test the acting skills again.
“Ouch, you bastard!” I yelled as I did so, shaking my hand. “I just got a shock off the switch.”
Barry stood up and moved towards me, full of concern. I wasn’t proud of what I was about to do.
“Here, let me have a look,” he said.
I extended my hand but withdrew it as he came close. Then, with all of my strength, I clenched it into a fist and punched him hard in the stomach. He looked briefly stunned, and in his moment of hesitation I grabbed a chair and pushed it toward him, seizing my chance to open the door and run.
I ran straight through the reception, past Phil, who tried to stop me. And then out into the car park, hoping that the frigging key fob would work first time. It did. Barry and Phil weren’t far behind.
“Sorry,” I shouted, “but you should have believed me.”
I just got the door closed and fired up the engine as they caught up with me. I floored the accelerator, dropped the clutch, and with a squeal of protest from the tyres I lurched forward. Then, with my foot to the floor, I powered away up the slip road, back to the roundabout, and as fast as I could towards the city centre.
* * *
I raced through a red light just before the Queen Alexandra Bridge, and narrowly avoided piling into the side of a Ford Escort. Other motorists flashed as I overtook them on the bridge, but I wasn’t looking at them.
I hardly touched the brakes at all on the way back to Ashbrooke, and made the journey in record time. As I approached I saw a police car with its lights flashing and siren wailing. I pulled in to the side of the road and paused, heartbeat quickening, convinced I was in trouble, but was able to relax when it shot straight past me on the trail of somebody else.
When I arrived at the flat, I threw open the gates without a second thought and reversed the car inside, skidding to a halt on the gravel. It was only when I got out of the car that I wondered whether Danny had visitors. I hammered on the door and it opened. It was Danny. My relief was instant, but overwhelmed by a need to get out of there.
“Where have you been?” he asked, but I was too breathless to answer. “Are you all right? What’s happened.”
“Danny, we’ve got to go. I’ll tell you on the way,” I said, at speed. “Has anybody been here?”
“Not yet, but...”
“We’ve got to go. They’ve got the registration and they’ll be setting up road blocks. We’re going, now!”
Without a second thought, I got back into the car and edged it out onto the street. Danny closed the door and gate behind us, and jumped into the passenger’s seat.
“What on earth’s going on?” he asked.
I floored the throttle again and then took a breath and tried to calm down. I didn’t want to draw any extra attention by driving erratically.
“Quickest way out of Sunderland?” I asked, urgently.
“Straight on, towards Ryhope.”
“Guide me.”
“Just tell me what’s going on, you’re worrying me.”
And then, as I tried to relax into the flow of the traffic, it all came out. The gun. The motorbike. Sean Haldane and the message. The package. My escape. My display of uncharacteristic yet wanton violence.
“Jesus,” said Danny. “Are you okay?” He directed me off the main road, onto a side road signposted Seaham.
“I am now. Just panicking that we’re going to get stopped any minute. Sorry.”
“Hey don’t worry,” he said. “You did brilliantly. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“But I had the package nicked and I’ve bloody assaulted an innocent man.”
“You did what you had to do. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
I reached out to do the hand squeeze thing.
“So what happened at the flat? No sign of Lisa, I assume?”
“God no, but she rang me.”
“Rang you?’
“On the flat phone. The phone rang. I answered it.”
“What did you say? Did you get the chance to ask her what on earth she’s up to?”
“No, I’ll tell you the full extent of it. I picked up the phone. She said, ‘Hello Danny’. I said, ‘Lisa!’ And she said, ‘Just a quick message, Danny, I’m not coming back today so there’s no need to wait for me. I’ll call you soon.’ And she was gone.”
“That was it?”
“Yup.”
“Oooooh. Bastard. She’s so frustrating!”
“Turn left here.”
I did as directed, and turned into a deserted car park on a clifftop overlooking the grey mass of the North Sea. He directed me to a space at the far end of the car park and I stopped the engine.
“Come on,” he said. “This’ll help.”
* * *
We got out of the car and Danny took my hand, led me to a footpath on the clifftop and then down towards a set of steps. We started to make our descent. The steps got steeper as they got nearer the beach. And then we were on the seafront, in the gathering gloom of the late afternoon, watching the waves crash in just in front of us. The beach was deserted. You couldn’t fail to be impressed by the sheer size and noise of the sea.
“You remember when we were discussing Clare?” Danny shouted above the noise of sea and seagulls. “About going to a deserted beach and shouting at the waves? Getting rid of all your frustrations? Well, this is it.”
We started to walk. It was unlike any beach I’d been to, but in a weird way it was beautiful. No palm trees. No bars and amusement arcades. Just miles of rugged coastline. Caves and rocks. Sand and pebbles. And a constant reminder of the power of nature to shape the world.
“What now then?” I shouted back, after a while, letting the wind and sea air take the stress away. “We can’t go back to Sunderland because the police will be looking for me, but there’s nothing to work on in London, and in any case they’ll have traced the car to Rochester Square.”
“Assuming they took the registration.”
“They definitely did that. They phoned through to National Breakdown for me. I had to give them the reg number.”
“We could hide the car and hire a new one.”
“But they’re watching us, Danny. Whoever was on the bike knew me and waited for me. That package must have been vital.”
There was a moment’s silence as we both paused for thought.
“We could go to Reigate,” I suggested.
“But how will that help? It’s supposed to be a safe haven. We don’t want to take danger down there.”
“There’s danger everywhere.” I sighed. I reached in my pocket for a bar of chocolate. Broke off a cube and gave it to Danny and then helped myself. “You decide.”
Danny picked up a pebble and threw it into the advancing waves, then put his arm through mine.
“There’s another way of looking at this. If it’s getting this dangerous, it must mean we’re getting close. If Clare was here she’d be in her element. She’d be telling me she’s close to an excellent story. But she also said that no story was worth risking your life for.”
“But this isn’t a story. It’s about people. It’s about Clare, not some tabloid sensation.”
“Which means we’ve got to hang in there.”
“I think so.”
Danny sighed. Then he looked at me as though struck by a new thought.
“How long have we lived in Rochester Square?”
“Since September.”
“And how long have you had this car?”
“Since August.”
“Have you ever changed the registration document?”
“No.”
“Which means that even if they did trace the car, they wouldn’t have the right address.”
“Good point. So we’d be safe to go back to London?”
“For the moment... until they trace it another way. But even then it was only a bit of a punch-up.” He looked at me, and then smiled and added “with a girl”.
“Walk round the car and put your hands on the roof.”
Again I did as I was asked. The biker fired a shot at the front drivers’ side tyre, deflating it instantly, and proving to me that the gun was loaded.
Without another word, he got back on his bike, revved his engine and turned away from the car, pausing only to look at me, as though having second thoughts about leaving me alive, and then roared off into the distance. Shocked, I sank to the ground, paralysed by fear.
And then I heard footsteps running towards me. I looked up, dazed, with no idea what was going to happen next. Thankfully it was Barry, a look of deep concern on his face.
He said something like: “What happened, are you all right?”
I heard the words but my mind was a blur. I couldn’t reply. I could only follow as he led me to the safety of reception.
“You wait here, I’ll call the police,” he said, sitting me down on one of the leather sofas.
That was the jolt I needed to find my voice.
“No! Not the police. Please. It was nothing, really.”
“I hardly call what I saw nothing.”
“No, believe me. Call National Breakdown or ATS or somebody, but not the police. They wouldn’t be able to help. Honestly.”
Barry remained unconvinced, but seemed moved by the pleading look on my face.
“Listen, pet, a man with a gun just shot your tyre out. I’ve got to call the police. I wouldn’t be doing my job... “
“I know, but trust me. It’s a long story.” I took a deep sigh and tilted my head back, looking at the ceiling. “You can call the police if you like but just do it after I’ve left. Please? I’ve got to get away from here. You’ve seen what he did. He doesn’t want me to follow but I’ve got to.”
“You’ve got to follow him?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean you know who he was?”
“Kind of. But you know what, it’s a long story. Please just get National Breakdown to come out with a tyre, and then once I’ve gone you can do anything you like.”
“Wait there.”
He went to talk to a colleague, and then the two came back to see me.
“You look shaken,” said the new arrival, whose name tag said Phil.
“I’m fine, honestly. If you’ve got a cup of tea or something that’d be great, but really I just need to get away.” They looked at each other, and then Phil nodded and went off, presumably to put the kettle on. Barry sat next to me, his face a picture of concern.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “Have you got a spare tyre?”
“I think so.”
“And you’re in National Breakdown?”
“Yeah, I never use it, but yes.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do then. I’ll give them a ring and see how long they’ll take for a call out. If it’s going to be too long, I’ll fit it for you. And then when you’re sorted, we’ll call it in. All right?”
“Perfect,” I said, “you’re a diamond.”
He looked up the number, and made the call. He asked for my registration number and gave the address of the business park. Then he put the phone down and turned to me.
“Half an hour they reckon. Is that all right?”
“Brilliant.”
“They said they’d need your membership card. Have you got it on you?”
“It’s in the glove compartment.”
“Give us your keys then and I’ll get it for you.” I handed him my keys and gave a warning about the faulty locks. He returned a minute later with my National Breakdown membership pack and put it down on the counter.
“I’ll tell you what, he did a canny job,” he said, as his colleague brought me a cup of tea. I took it with thanks and settled down to wait. I was beginning to worry about Danny. Worrying that he was okay, and concerned that he’d be worried about me.
Half an hour later, on the dot, a National Breakdown van pulled up, and the mechanic came in and asked me what the problem was. I took him out to the car and he started work, jacking up the front right corner so he could remove the old wheel and replace it with my spare. I went back inside to wait.
“Everything all right, Anna?” Barry asked when I returned, putting my membership pack back down on the counter. It looked like he’d been reading it. I didn’t spot the danger until it was too late.
“Yeah, he’s sorting it. Shouldn’t be too long,” I said.
“And is there anything else I can do for you while you wait?” He paused. “Anna.”
At that moment I knew my cover was blown.
Back at the flat, Danny was experiencing the first pangs of a new attack of worry. An hour had passed. She should have been back by now. Nothing had happened at the flat. Nobody had arrived, and he hadn’t found anything of interest when he’d undertaken another search. But she definitely should have been back by now. The feeling of panic grew more intense, as though he was standing in quicksand, watching the water level rise.
He thought he heard the gate creaking outside and was torn between going to look and the safe option of hiding in a wardrobe. He decided on the latter, but with his heart rate quickening, he could barely contain his excitement.
After five minutes in the wardrobe, there was still no further movement outside. Danny edged open the door and peered into the late afternoon semi-darkness of the bedroom. Gaining in confidence with every second, he crept out and moved along the wall towards the door. Again there was no sound. He moved through to the front room. Nobody was there. Ever so gingerly he edged towards the front door, which was still firmly closed. Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, he looked out of the window.
The gate was slightly open, but there was still no sign of life. Then, from nowhere, a gust of February wind moved the gate even further ajar. Danny jumped but nobody appeared. A storm seemed to be brewing. The light was fading. Danny felt a shiver run down his spine.
And then the phone started ringing. Tentatively, he answered it.
“Hello, Danny,” said a female voice with a soft Scottish accent.
26
I HAD some explaining to do. Apparently tricking your way past the reception of a security company with a fake ID was frowned upon.
“Ah,” I said, when asked what I was up to. “Told you, it’s a bit of a long story.”
Barry didn’t look pleased. I had a feeling I was going to find it difficult to protest my innocence. He’d taken me to a small office on the ground floor that only contained a light oak table and three vinyl-covered chairs. The window was barred. He was threatening to call the police again, and that could lead to any number of complications. What had started as a good idea had become a nightmare.
Through the door I heard the mechanic in reception dropping off my keys, saying that the car was ready. That was something. But I was no nearer to getting back on the road. I tried to give a brief summary, leaving out some of the details. Barry wasn’t entirely convinced.
“So, to recap, you’re working undercover on the trail of a missing person?”
“Yes.”
“But you won’t tell me who.”
“Well, it’s not so much won’t as can’t.”
“But you can’t say why you can’t.”
“Again, difficult.”
“So how do I know that you’re not just trying to nick post from paying customers? Customers, I may add, who get things sent here for precisely the reason that they don’t want them stolen.”
“Yes, I can see why you might think that,” I said, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.
“Look, Barry,” I pleaded. “I know this doesn’t look good. But you’ve got to believe me. Clare is a journalist. I don’t know if you know her. She works for the Daily Echo.”
“Which I’ve heard of, obviously. Go on.”
“You know the thing about a journalist being legally bound to protect their sources?”
“No, but...”
“Well anyway, they are. She’s working on a story and it’s kind of proving a bit tricky.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So she gave me the key and asked me to come up here and check her box. It’s basically that.” I hoped my cheeky smile would work its magic, but it seemed to be missing the mark. There was a knock on the door. Phil came in with my keys and National Breakdown membership pack, placing them on the desk between us.
“Car’s fixed,” he said. And then left us to it.
“I wouldn’t have the key, would I? If I was just a thief,” I continued as the door closed. “But it is urgent. Because the bastard with the gun has just pinched the stuff I was supposed to be collecting and I’ve got to go and find him before the whole thing goes tits up.”
I still wasn’t sure if I was making progress. It was time to gamble.
“Tell you what. Ring her. She’ll confirm it for you. You’ve got her number I assume?”
“We will have, somewhere.” I just had to hope it was the number of the flat in Sunderland rather than London.
“Perfect. Get the number, and give her a call. If she’s not there, ask for her husband, Danny.” It pained me to say that. “He’ll verify it. But if you could do it quite quickly it would be really much appreciated.”
“Wait here,” he said, and then left the room, locking the door behind him.
* * *
Barry came back, and I expected to be released.
“Did you ring her?” I asked.
“I did, but there was no answer. So we’re no further forward.”
“Shit.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to call the police. I should have done it about the car anyway. When they get here, you can tell them what you’ve told me. And if they believe you it’s up to them, but until then you’re staying.”
“God,” I said, out of sheer frustration. And then I saw an opportunity and acted on it.
“Do you mind if I switch the light on?” I asked.
When Barry gave his consent I stood up and moved to the light switch, turning on the fluorescent strip in the centre of the ceiling. They do have their uses after all. Time to test the acting skills again.
“Ouch, you bastard!” I yelled as I did so, shaking my hand. “I just got a shock off the switch.”
Barry stood up and moved towards me, full of concern. I wasn’t proud of what I was about to do.
“Here, let me have a look,” he said.
I extended my hand but withdrew it as he came close. Then, with all of my strength, I clenched it into a fist and punched him hard in the stomach. He looked briefly stunned, and in his moment of hesitation I grabbed a chair and pushed it toward him, seizing my chance to open the door and run.
I ran straight through the reception, past Phil, who tried to stop me. And then out into the car park, hoping that the frigging key fob would work first time. It did. Barry and Phil weren’t far behind.
“Sorry,” I shouted, “but you should have believed me.”
I just got the door closed and fired up the engine as they caught up with me. I floored the accelerator, dropped the clutch, and with a squeal of protest from the tyres I lurched forward. Then, with my foot to the floor, I powered away up the slip road, back to the roundabout, and as fast as I could towards the city centre.
* * *
I raced through a red light just before the Queen Alexandra Bridge, and narrowly avoided piling into the side of a Ford Escort. Other motorists flashed as I overtook them on the bridge, but I wasn’t looking at them.
I hardly touched the brakes at all on the way back to Ashbrooke, and made the journey in record time. As I approached I saw a police car with its lights flashing and siren wailing. I pulled in to the side of the road and paused, heartbeat quickening, convinced I was in trouble, but was able to relax when it shot straight past me on the trail of somebody else.
When I arrived at the flat, I threw open the gates without a second thought and reversed the car inside, skidding to a halt on the gravel. It was only when I got out of the car that I wondered whether Danny had visitors. I hammered on the door and it opened. It was Danny. My relief was instant, but overwhelmed by a need to get out of there.
“Where have you been?” he asked, but I was too breathless to answer. “Are you all right? What’s happened.”
“Danny, we’ve got to go. I’ll tell you on the way,” I said, at speed. “Has anybody been here?”
“Not yet, but...”
“We’ve got to go. They’ve got the registration and they’ll be setting up road blocks. We’re going, now!”
Without a second thought, I got back into the car and edged it out onto the street. Danny closed the door and gate behind us, and jumped into the passenger’s seat.
“What on earth’s going on?” he asked.
I floored the throttle again and then took a breath and tried to calm down. I didn’t want to draw any extra attention by driving erratically.
“Quickest way out of Sunderland?” I asked, urgently.
“Straight on, towards Ryhope.”
“Guide me.”
“Just tell me what’s going on, you’re worrying me.”
And then, as I tried to relax into the flow of the traffic, it all came out. The gun. The motorbike. Sean Haldane and the message. The package. My escape. My display of uncharacteristic yet wanton violence.
“Jesus,” said Danny. “Are you okay?” He directed me off the main road, onto a side road signposted Seaham.
“I am now. Just panicking that we’re going to get stopped any minute. Sorry.”
“Hey don’t worry,” he said. “You did brilliantly. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“But I had the package nicked and I’ve bloody assaulted an innocent man.”
“You did what you had to do. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
I reached out to do the hand squeeze thing.
“So what happened at the flat? No sign of Lisa, I assume?”
“God no, but she rang me.”
“Rang you?’
“On the flat phone. The phone rang. I answered it.”
“What did you say? Did you get the chance to ask her what on earth she’s up to?”
“No, I’ll tell you the full extent of it. I picked up the phone. She said, ‘Hello Danny’. I said, ‘Lisa!’ And she said, ‘Just a quick message, Danny, I’m not coming back today so there’s no need to wait for me. I’ll call you soon.’ And she was gone.”
“That was it?”
“Yup.”
“Oooooh. Bastard. She’s so frustrating!”
“Turn left here.”
I did as directed, and turned into a deserted car park on a clifftop overlooking the grey mass of the North Sea. He directed me to a space at the far end of the car park and I stopped the engine.
“Come on,” he said. “This’ll help.”
* * *
We got out of the car and Danny took my hand, led me to a footpath on the clifftop and then down towards a set of steps. We started to make our descent. The steps got steeper as they got nearer the beach. And then we were on the seafront, in the gathering gloom of the late afternoon, watching the waves crash in just in front of us. The beach was deserted. You couldn’t fail to be impressed by the sheer size and noise of the sea.
“You remember when we were discussing Clare?” Danny shouted above the noise of sea and seagulls. “About going to a deserted beach and shouting at the waves? Getting rid of all your frustrations? Well, this is it.”
We started to walk. It was unlike any beach I’d been to, but in a weird way it was beautiful. No palm trees. No bars and amusement arcades. Just miles of rugged coastline. Caves and rocks. Sand and pebbles. And a constant reminder of the power of nature to shape the world.
“What now then?” I shouted back, after a while, letting the wind and sea air take the stress away. “We can’t go back to Sunderland because the police will be looking for me, but there’s nothing to work on in London, and in any case they’ll have traced the car to Rochester Square.”
“Assuming they took the registration.”
“They definitely did that. They phoned through to National Breakdown for me. I had to give them the reg number.”
“We could hide the car and hire a new one.”
“But they’re watching us, Danny. Whoever was on the bike knew me and waited for me. That package must have been vital.”
There was a moment’s silence as we both paused for thought.
“We could go to Reigate,” I suggested.
“But how will that help? It’s supposed to be a safe haven. We don’t want to take danger down there.”
“There’s danger everywhere.” I sighed. I reached in my pocket for a bar of chocolate. Broke off a cube and gave it to Danny and then helped myself. “You decide.”
Danny picked up a pebble and threw it into the advancing waves, then put his arm through mine.
“There’s another way of looking at this. If it’s getting this dangerous, it must mean we’re getting close. If Clare was here she’d be in her element. She’d be telling me she’s close to an excellent story. But she also said that no story was worth risking your life for.”
“But this isn’t a story. It’s about people. It’s about Clare, not some tabloid sensation.”
“Which means we’ve got to hang in there.”
“I think so.”
Danny sighed. Then he looked at me as though struck by a new thought.
“How long have we lived in Rochester Square?”
“Since September.”
“And how long have you had this car?”
“Since August.”
“Have you ever changed the registration document?”
“No.”
“Which means that even if they did trace the car, they wouldn’t have the right address.”
“Good point. So we’d be safe to go back to London?”
“For the moment... until they trace it another way. But even then it was only a bit of a punch-up.” He looked at me, and then smiled and added “with a girl”.
