by Daniel Hurst
I scratch my itchy scalp again beneath the wig as I look around at the crowds of people swarming past us. A needle in a haystack is the only way to describe the task facing us now.
‘Let’s check the Eurostar first,’ I decide, heading towards the section of the bustling station. ‘If we’re wrong, then at least it means he is only going somewhere in the UK.’
I know the way because I’d taken the Eurostar once before on a work trip to Brussels two years ago. Our boss took us all away to celebrate a big contract the company had been awarded, and we had a great three days in the Belgian city. I distinctly remember being pretty tipsy before the train even left London on its way into Europe, but it’s safe to say my mood is decidedly less upbeat as I return to that same scene.
Louise continues to check her laptop as we walk, and it’s a minor miracle that she hasn’t dropped it yet amidst all the pushing and shoving that we are having to contend with as we make our way through the heaving station. We finally reach the entrance to the Eurostar, and that’s where my daughter tells me that she thinks the red dot is located somewhere close by. That gives me hope, but the long lines of passengers standing in front of the ticket desks do not. This part of St Pancras looks more like an airport than a train station, with check-in areas and large screens with the words ‘International Departures’ emblazoned across them, and it’s almost as busy as one too.
‘Can you see him anywhere?’ I ask my daughter desperately, feeling overwhelmed by the size of the task ahead of us.
‘No,’ she replies, her eyes scanning the crowd. ‘But he has to be here somewhere. My phone is close by.’
I look at the rows of check-in desks and realise I’m going to have to make a gamble.
‘I’m going to buy a ticket and go in. He must be on the other side,’ I say, reaching into my handbag for my purse and passport. Fortunately, while my safe might have been emptied, I still have my credit card and passport on me. I carry that important document everywhere with me in case I ever need ID because I don’t drive, and not having a driving licence means it’s often the only thing I can use to verify my identity.
‘How do you know where he is going?’ Louise asks me.
‘It doesn’t matter. I just need to get through security, and I’ll hopefully find him in the lounge.’
‘Yeah, but you still have to buy a ticket. You should try to get the right train just in case you have to get on it to follow him.’
‘I’m not going to Europe and leaving you behind,’ I tell my daughter, and I mean it, but she doesn’t seem so sure.
‘You might have to,’ she tells me. ‘If that’s what it takes to get the things back.’
I realise she might be right so look up at the large electronic screen for the upcoming departures. The next train is to Paris. The one after that is Amsterdam. Then it’s Brussels.
‘I guess I’ll pick Paris,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders.
‘Wait,’ Louise says, and I notice she is also looking up at the screen too. ‘Try Amsterdam.’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘That was one of the places James told me he wanted to go,’ she says, and I notice the look of sorrow flash across her face. In all the craziness of today, I had almost forgotten that Louise wasn’t just dealing with a threat to her life—she was also dealing with a broken heart after the man she trusted betrayed her. I know exactly how it feels to have such a thing happen, which means I understand how much she must be hurting now.
‘I’m sorry about what he did to you, Lou,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘And I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could tell me you were seeing somebody.’
‘You wouldn’t have approved,’ she says with a weak smile.
‘Maybe so, but from now on, no more secrets, okay?’
Louise nods. ‘No more secrets.’
With that, I refocus on the task at hand and make one final check on the laptop screen for the current location of Louise’s phone.
‘You stay on this side in case the red dot moves away,’ I tell my daughter. ‘If not, then he is through here, and I’ll find him.’
‘Okay,’ Louise agrees, looking nervous enough for the both of us.
‘Can I see the photo again?’ I say to her just before I leave, and she opens the folder on her laptop that shows me the image of James she has saved to her device. She told me that she snapped the photo of him while he was sleeping in her bed a few weeks ago, and I’m glad she did because without it I would have no choice but to take my daughter with me to identify him. Thankfully, I can leave Louise here now, meaning she will be nowhere near the dangerous events that are about to take place.
‘Got it,’ I say, confident that I have memorised the appearance of the man I am looking for. Then I go to head towards the check-in desk, but Louise grabs my arm just before I can leave.
‘Be careful,’ she tells me, and I smile because despite all the arguments and ordeals we have been through together, she still cares about me. Maybe things never had to be so bad between us in the first place.
‘I always am,’ I reply, squeezing her hand before rushing to join the shortest queue I can find at the departure desk.
Once in place, I glance back over my shoulder at where Louise is waiting for me, and hope this won’t be the last time I ever see her. But I know I’m potentially heading into a very dangerous situation, and I can’t predict the outcome, even though I have a plan. The truth is that if James was clever enough to get his hands on the contents of my safe, he may be clever enough to get out of what I am planning to do to him, and if he does, then there’s no telling what might happen.
I’m desperate to get my belongings back.
He’ll be desperate to keep them.
But only one of us is going to get our way.
A few minutes later, I’m at the front of the queue, and as I watch the couple in front of me take their tickets from the clerk behind the desk and walk away, it’s now my turn to step forward from the line.
I decide to ask for a ticket to Amsterdam based on Louise’s prediction, but it doesn’t really matter if I’m right or wrong about where James is going. I just need to get to the lounge past this point.
I hand my credit card and passport over to the female clerk before remembering to lift up my sunglasses as she checks my photo.
I want her to be able to recognise me, even with a change in hair colour.
It’s only James I need to deceive now.
44
JAMES
‘Now boarding London to Amsterdam. Please proceed to platform two.’
The sound of the female voice over the tannoy is like music to my ears, and I pick up my heavy rucksack before joining the other passengers who will be on board this evening service to the Dutch capital. I’m looking forward to getting on and finding my seat, and I’m pleased to see that it’s not going to be too busy on board, as most of the people in this departure lounge have remained seated, so they must be headed to Brussels on the next train instead. With a bit of luck, there’ll be nobody seated at my table, and I’ll be able to put my feet up on the opposing chair. I deserve to travel in comfort after everything I’ve been through to get to this point.
I leave the departure lounge and head for the ticket barriers, my mind already on the can of lager that I will be purchasing from the drinks trolley on board as soon as we set off. I wonder if my partner has enjoyed his drinks at the pub in Brighton tonight while he waits for me to show up. Something tells me he has not, and another check on my phone indicates that the calls and text messages are still incoming.
“Where are you?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve done a runner.”
“I’ll kill you if I get my hands on you.”
How charming.
And he wonders why I haven’t bothered to text him back.
I’m just about to turn my phone off when I hear the sound of a suitcase clattering to the floor behind me, and I turn around to see a pretty redhead struggling to pick it ba
ck up again.
‘Let me help you with that,’ I say, and the woman thanks me in a distinct Dutch accent.
‘Are you from Amsterdam?’ I ask her as we continue to make our way towards the ticket barrier, and she tells me that she is.
‘Great! I need a tour guide to show me around,’ I say cheekily, and I’m pleased to see that she smiles at the joke.
As she slots her ticket into the machine and steps through the barriers onto the other side, I think about how nice it would be to enjoy the company of a proper woman after spending the last few weeks dealing with Louise and her teenage tantrums. Even before I revealed to her what my true intentions were today, she was always wanting to know if I was seeing other women as well as her. But something tells me this lively redhead in front of me wouldn’t care about something like that, and I’m eager to get on board and get to know her more. I’m just about to follow her through the barrier and ask her which carriage she is seated in when a tall man cuts in front of me, puts his hand around her waist and apologises for being late.
Damn. She’s already taken.
Oh well, I guess I’ll be spending the journey alone.
No bother.
A quiet and peaceful trip it is, then.
45
AMANDA
I move quickly through the departure lounge, my head swivelling as I look in all directions for any sign of James. The voice over the tannoy tells me that the next train is leaving in five minutes, so it doesn’t give me long to locate him if he is on that one before I risk losing him forever. But so far, I can’t see him, and I’m aware that time is running out.
Convinced that he definitely isn’t in the lounge, I step out through the doors and head towards the platforms, my eyes firmly on the swarm of people pushing their way through the ticket barriers up ahead. There are dozens of passengers on the other side of the barriers, making their way to the various platforms, where some trains are already waiting, and some are yet to arrive. But if I didn’t see James behind me, that means he must be ahead, so I rush towards the barriers with my ticket in hand and slot it into the machine.
I head in the direction of the platform for the Amsterdam service, and I can already see the train is parked with its doors open and ready to take on new passengers, so I’m about to break into a run when I catch sight of a dark-haired man on an opposing platform.
I see the man walking away with his back to me, his head bowed and a rucksack on his shoulder. Is that him? Based on the photo Louise showed me, it certainly could be.
Following the man, I do my best to fight the voice in my head telling me to turn around and go back to my daughter, begging me not to risk my health by going ahead with the plan. But I ignore it and keep running, and I’m about to reach him when he suddenly turns around.
That’s when I see that it isn’t him.
‘Shit,’ I say as I watch the man step on board a service to Brussels, annoyed at myself for wasting precious seconds in the pursuit of the wrong person.
Feeling panicked now that time is almost up, I turn around and go to head back down the platform when I feel a tight squeeze on my left arm, and a hand pulls me to the side.
I freeze, wondering if it is James.
Did he spot me while I was trying to spot him?
But then I get a look at the man’s face beside me and see that it isn’t James.
It’s his partner in crime.
‘Hello, Amanda,’ he says in that sickeningly calm voice of his, and all the fears and anxieties of the day come flooding back to me now that I am with this man again. ‘Nice disguise. But I’d recognise that hurried walk of yours anywhere after these last few weeks.’
I try to break free of his grip, but he doesn’t allow it as he leads me away from the passengers to a quieter end of the platform.
‘Get off me!’ I tell him, but I make sure to keep my voice low so as not to draw any attention to our section of the platform. I came here to stop James, but it’s obvious I’m going to have to stop his partner too.
‘What are you doing here, Amanda? Do you know where he is?’
‘What?’
‘It turns out you’re not the only one who has been screwed today,’ he says to me. ‘Where is he?’
‘What are you talking about?’ I ask as he leads me ever closer to the edge of the train platform, and I see the grimy tracks come into view beneath me.
‘James! Tell me where he is!’
‘I don’t know!’ I cry, starting to fear that I am going to be thrown down onto the tracks if I don’t give him the answer he wants.
‘I know he is here somewhere! I know he’s getting the Eurostar! Tell me where he is!’
‘I don’t know!’
That’s when I notice the train coming into the station further along the track from where we are now.
I desperately try to break free again, but my captor won’t let me go.
I’m going to lose James if I can’t lose this man.
So I stop pulling and start pushing instead.
His eyes go wide with fear as he realises what I’m doing, and he loses his grip on me as well as his balance, toppling backwards over the edge of the platform. The power I generated from the shove to his chest sends him down onto the tracks below just as the train arrives.
I almost regret what I have done in that instant and reach out for his hand as it falls away from me, but it’s too late. There is a high-pitched squealing of brakes as the train driver does his best to avoid the man who has fallen right in front of his vehicle, but it’s no good. An awful sound emerges from beneath the train as it runs over the body, and I turn away as blood splatters up from the tracks, closing my eyes but wishing I had covered my ears too to drown out the horrors behind me.
Somebody screams. Another person shouts. I hear an alarm sound on the train. Panicked voices. Rushing passengers trying to lend aid to the man under the train even though it is obviously too late.
It’s chaos, and it’s only going to get worse. Soon this part of the station will be overrun with police officers and paramedics.
I need to make sure I’m not here when it is.
As all hell breaks loose around me, I go against the tide of people and rush away from the scene, making my way back along the platform and past the dozens of passengers who are now all gawking at the deadly incident behind me. I keep my head down as I go, praying that nobody tries to stop me and hold me accountable for what just happened. With my disguise, I could get away with this, but only if I’m not caught at the station when the police arrive and check the CCTV. But I can’t go anywhere until I have found James.
I haven’t come this far to run away now.
I return to the ticket barriers, where I can get a better view of all the other platforms, and I look for any sign of the dark-haired man with the rucksack. The fact that his partner was here too only confirms that James must be at this station. I feel like I’m so close to finding him, but there’s just too many people around for me to pick him out.
I turn around and look the other way, ignoring the passengers who are now trying to see why several station employees are running down one of the platforms towards the train that has stopped halfway down the tracks. I’m looking for the one passenger who isn’t stopping. The one who isn’t distracted. The one who is desperate to get away.
And then I see him.
Over the head of a tall man and a redheaded woman with a large suitcase.
It’s James.
I set off in pursuit, running after him, terrified of losing him again now in the crowd after finally finding him. I can see the rucksack slung over his shoulder, and knowing exactly what he has got in there only causes me to quicken my pace.
As I push past a young guy trying to film the chaos in the station on his camera phone, I hear the tannoy click on overhead, and a male voice booms out of the speakers, telling passengers to leave platform five and return to the ticket barriers. But most people here ignore the instruction and continue tryi
ng to get a better look at the body on the tracks, their morbid curiosity getting the better of their common sense and respect for the dead.
But I ignore the call from the tannoy too and so does James. I watch as he bends down and scoops up a free newspaper from an unmanned stand before stepping through the doors and boarding the train on platform two.
I stop running now that my chances of losing him have reduced, and instead, I take a moment for my heart rate to settle and my breathing to return to normal. Checking my reflection in the window of the carriage, I make sure that my disguise is still firmly in place.
Then I board the train.
46
JAMES
This service looks to be a quiet one tonight, and there are plenty of vacant seats as I make my way past them before settling on the one with the table at the end of the carriage.
I’ve brushed off the disappointment of finding out that the redhead on the platform was not as single as I’d hoped, and now I’m just looking forward to a chilled journey into Holland. There’ll be plenty of time for enjoying female company in Amsterdam, I’m sure.
Stuffing the ticket back into my pocket, I slump down into my seat and relieve myself of the heavy weight on my shoulder. I’m grateful for the bag of cash, but I’m ready for a break from lugging it around.
Now where’s that drinks trolley?
I look down the carriage but see only a couple more passengers getting on and putting their luggage into the overhead compartments. With no sign of refreshments being on the way yet, I decide to pass the time by flicking through the newspaper I picked up just before I boarded.
I browse through the sports section first before turning to the front of the paper and thumbing through the current affairs stories. I read so many newspapers in prison, mainly because it was one of the few things to do to pass the time, and I lost count of how many crosswords I completed. I’m just about to go in search of a new one when I notice the news story on page eleven.