Then almost the worst thing that could happen did. She sideswiped a parked car, a fancy-looking coupe of some kind. She knew you were supposed to stop and exchange information—her mother had been rear-ended once—but she was in enough trouble already and couldn’t afford to be identified. She straightened out the truck and hit the accelerator as hard as she could, creating such a strong g-force that she hit her head against the headrest and twisted her back. She could see a woman come out of a shop and yell at her—the owner of the car, surely—but she kept going. Now she was a real criminal, not a simulated one as she and Nick had created when they were trying to plan the cook’s kidnapping. The cook. Boy, she had started one long domino chain.
As the car careened forward, Amanda was alarmed to see a woman and a child crossing the street ahead of her. The child was holding a stuffed animal that was nearly as big as he was. Amanda wasn’t used to calculating how long it took to stop a car, let alone a truck, and had no idea if she could stop before she hit them. She pressed the brake as hard as she could, pretty much standing on it, but it wasn’t looking good. She could see fear on the woman’s face as she realized the truck was heading right for her and her little boy. Suddenly the pedestrian grabbed the child, who dropped the stuffed animal, and ran as fast as she could back to the curb, just in time for Amanda to barrel through the intersection and crush the toy, which appeared to be a blue elephant. The woman was shouting and raising her fist and trying to get a picture of the truck’s license plate, and the child was bawling, but the light was green and Amanda stepped on the gas again.
It was only a matter of time before some disaster occurred. She couldn’t keep going like this, but there was no place to park the truck and get out so she had to press on. The streets were becoming narrower and narrower and turning into even more of an obstacle course, and she was sure that within thirty seconds her world would come to an end one way or another.
Then another extraordinary thing happened. She had just stopped at a red light when she heard a clunk to the right of her. Someone had flung the door open and was pointing a gun at her!
“Get out,” hissed a man dressed in a dark raincoat and a hat that covered his eyes.
Amanda jumped out of the truck, almost twisting her ankle in the process. The man pushed her aside, got into the truck, and peeled out, leaving her standing there in the downpour. Fortunately she had grabbed her bag and now she and the bag ran to the nearest shelter, which happened to be a pub called The Rooster’s Beak. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, dripped water all over the polished wooden floor, and dragged herself to the fire, which was happily blazing away as if it hadn’t a care in the world. Amanda didn’t know whether to be grateful or envious.
She cringed when the publican came over to her. She was sure he was going to yell at her about his floor, but instead he said, “Hey, little lady. You’re pretty wet there. Why don’t you hang up that coat and let it dry a tad? How about if I get you a cuppa?” He had a very heavy brogue, but she was used to listening to Scottish people in BBC productions and was miraculously able to understand him.
Should she? She was in an awful hurry and growing more anxious by the second, but he didn’t look too busy. How much of an imposition could it be? “Yes, thank you. That would be lovely,” she said in a voice that was much brighter than she felt. The man went off to get the tea, and after hanging up her coat Amanda sat down at the table nearest the fire and held her hair out to dry.
Now that she was out of the truck and the rain, she realized that things had turned out better than she could have hoped, given the circumstances. She may have ended up in Edinburgh instead of London, and she may have sideswiped an expensive car and almost killed two pedestrians, and she may have been thirsty and soaked, but she’d escaped the truck driver and the carjacker and no one was pursuing her—that she knew of. She was sorry about the dent in the parked car, but she knew the woman would recover. If she’d continued to drive, who knows what else would have happened? Of course she was stranded and alone, but she’d proved she could handle those things. All she had to do now was think her way out of this, quickly.
The publican brought her tea and she offered to pay with the little bit of money she had, but he turned her down with a wink and a smile. “It’s on the house,” he said. The steam rose from the cup in graceful swirls.
“Thank you,” said Amanda. “You’re nice.” She held out her hands over the tea and warmed them, turning them over and back again. The heat was heavenly.
“So, what brings you out on this foul day?” he said. He held out his hand. “The name is Kirkwood. Angus Kirkwood.”
“Amanda Lester,” she said, shaking his hand, which was as big as a bear’s paw. Now that she had a chance to look at him, she could see that he was a giant. He must have been six foot six, maybe taller. Editta would probably have wanted to know his height down to the millimeter and then would have calculated his weight to the gram. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it,” she said, picking up the cup and bringing it to her lips. The tea was scalding hot, so she blew on it.
“Try me.”
This was a tricky one. She couldn’t reveal the existence of the school or the nature of her mission, and she couldn’t admit to her sins on the road. But she was a good storyteller, and now that she had some liquid in her her mind was working again.
“I’m looking for my father,” she said truthfully.
“Your birth father?” he said.
“No, my real father. We got separated at a rest stop on the M6 and now I can’t find him. I hitchhiked here.” It wasn’t great literature but it was pretty innocuous. “We were on our way to a wedding in London and now we’re going to be late.”
“What time is the wedding?” said the publican.
“Six,” said Amanda. It was close to two now.
“Yes, I think you will be late. Can’t you text him?”
“He lost his phone,” she lied.
“That’s too bad. What do you think he’s doing now? Maybe he’s found a phone he can borrow.”
“Obviously not,” she said, embellishing the lie. “If he had I’d have heard from him.”
“This is a sad state of affairs,” said the man. “Have you at least let the bride and groom know where you are?”
“I tried but they haven’t answered,” she said. “I guess they’re kind of busy.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said the man, missing the holes in her story. “How about if I help you? You can take a train to London. I’ll give you cab fare to the station. You won’t arrive in time for the ceremony but at least you can put in an appearance.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said. Actually, the train would be the answer to her prayers but she didn’t want to seem too eager.
“But you haven’t. You can pay me back some other time.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“What’s the harm? You look honest. I know you’re good for it.” He smiled at her and the bridge of his long nose crinkled.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Now look, I can’t leave the pub, but here is some money. I’ll call a taxi. You go to the station and buy a ticket. Text me when you get there.” He handed her a card with his contact details.
“I can’t thank you enough,” said Amanda, feeling slightly guilty about all the lies, but not enough to refuse. She would pay him back, of course, so what was the harm?
“Just go and have a good time. Okay?”
“Okay.”
As she boarded the train she calculated that she would arrive at King’s Cross Station at about seven-thirty. Her timing was going to be extremely close. The tube ride to the factory would take another half hour or so, and then she’d have to walk, in the dark, to the place on the map. Under no other circumstances would she have engaged in such risky behavior. She hadn’t progressed far enough in her self-defense class to be confident that she could ward off attackers, if (shudder) there were any, and she didn
’t carry a weapon. Too bad she hadn’t at least bought a can of pepper spray, but she’d been too rushed even to think of it. At any rate, when she got there, if she got there, it would be eight o’clock or later and then what? Maybe the place would be deserted except for her father and a guard. That would probably be a good situation. Fewer criminals to deal with. But even if it was, she had no idea what she was going to do and even less confidence that she could do it.
She checked Google Maps again. The London address was a big warehouse in the Silvertown district, ironically a place known for sugar, treacle, and jam refining once referred to as the sugar mile, which she learned about from Wikipedia. From King’s Cross she would have to take the Northern Line to the Bank DLR Station, then take the DLR to get to the West Silvertown Station, which was the nearest to her destination. She’d never taken a train or a subway before, but she figured as long as she’d familiarized herself with the route she shouldn’t have a repeat of the incident with the wayward truck, which had already set her back some five—five!—hours.
But the delay was just about to lengthen. After more than four hours of uneventful travel, the train stopped, between the towns of Grantham and Peterborough, about a hundred miles from King’s Cross. The passengers all looked around to see what was happening and there was a great hubbub. “What’s going on?” “Are we being robbed?” “Has the train broken down?” “Did someone have a heart attack?” The longer the train sat, the more agitated the passengers became. Amanda felt her own panic rise. The problem was undoubtedly mechanical, probably something simple, but she wished they’d hurry up and fix it. It was seven-thirty. There were only a few hours left in which to find her father!
After a couple of extremely long minutes, the loudspeaker came on and the engineer spoke.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “It seems that we’re having mechanical difficulties. We’re going to be here for a while. We apologize for any inconvenience this delay may cause.”
This was terrible news! If they didn’t get going soon it would be too late. Amanda toyed with the idea of calling the police, but she knew that would be the wrong thing to do, or would it? Maybe the time had come to give in. She considered the idea for about five minutes. If she were stuck here for more than a little while her father would die. But if she called the police they’d just mess everything up. Saving her father was up to her and her alone. Still, what if the train were delayed even longer? She wished she knew something about engines. Maybe she could help them fix whatever was wrong. As if. She wondered if Nick or Simon knew anything about that stuff. She was pretty sure Amphora and Editta didn’t, and of course Ivy. Ha! Ivy probably did. She’d hear how to fix the stupid thing. Amanda smiled. What a wonder that girl was.
And then something else happened. It would have been funny under normal circumstances, but now it was horrific. A monkey in a pet carrier escaped and started running around the train screeching. This disaster triggered a whole new round of hysteria among the passengers. “Get it away from me!” “It’s infected!” “It bit me!” “It’s got rabies!” Amanda could see the monkey fly by a few times while people threw up their hands and screamed, as if the poor thing were a tiger or a rampaging bull rather than someone’s pet. She felt sympathy for it. What animal wouldn’t be terrified under such circumstances? Still, it was nothing but a pain in the neck at the moment and she wished it would shut up and go back to its cage and the train would move again.
The monkey’s person, who turned out to be a bearded young man in an indigo T-shirt, was finally able to make his way through the crowd and track down his charge, which had climbed up onto a luggage rack above the seats and was nattering at the people below. The guy motioned to the monkey to hop onto his shoulder and said, “Come on, Pesto, it’s all right” and “Let’s go back to our seat, shall we?” Unfortunately, these pleas didn’t impress the monkey one bit. It just made faces and grabbed things from the rack to throw down onto the passengers, all of whom fortunately managed to jump out of the way. Still, they weren’t amused. “You’d better control that monkey,” said a short, fat man to the kid. “If he hurts someone, you’ll be charged with assault.” Amanda thought this an ungenerous thing to say, especially since the monkey couldn’t throw that far and no one was in any real danger. Still, she was highly displeased with T-shirt boy, who should have taken greater care with his decidedly unfunny pet, and was becoming so irrational that she was starting to feel that the delay was his fault.
The crowd having withdrawn, the monkey jumped down from the rack, circumvented its owner, and raced toward where Amanda was sitting. This was the wrong way. He, for she could now tell that it was indeed a male, should have been moving away from her, back toward his seat. Instead he stood right in front of her and gave her a huge simian grin with his lips pulled back and his teeth sticking out as far as they would go. She was in no mood for this. She gave him a deadly look and stuck out her tongue.
The monkey eyed her for a moment, then, coming to some realization or decision, scratched his head, stuck out his own tongue, and let go with a huge, great pee all over Amanda’s leg. Then he skittered back to T-shirt boy, climbed onto his shoulder, and gloated.
“That’s not funny,” yelled Amanda, looking down at her jeans and shoe and shaking her hands, as if that would magically fix everything.
The car exploded with laughter. The people behind Amanda snapped pictures. The family on the other side of the aisle was just about rolling in it. Even the passengers at the opposite end clamored to get a good look. It was a Marx Brothers moment, but one Amanda did not appreciate. Instead she burst into tears.
“Oh dear, miss,” said Pesto’s owner, making his way back toward Amanda with the offender clinging to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Let me make this up to you. I’ll pay for the cleaning.” He leaned forward and tried vaguely to help her. Despite the fact that his monkey had undoubtedly done this before, he had no idea how to clean up pee.
“Just get him away from me! GET AWAY!!! Now what am I going to do?” cried Amanda. She was beginning to feel hysterical. Her leg, shoe, and sock were soaking wet and starting to smell bad, and she didn’t feel that she could cope with one more thing.
“Here, let me,” said the kid, producing some paper towels from nowhere and dabbing at Amanda’s leg.
“No!” she screamed. “Get away! You have no idea!”
“At least let me pay for the cleaning.” He handed her a twenty-pound note and said, “Let me buy you something to eat. Do you like scones?”
“Leave me alone!” she yelled, flinging down the boy’s money. “Who takes a monkey on a train anyway? First it breaks down, then you let a monkey run loose, then it pees on me, and then you try to buy me off.” Completely out of control now, she grabbed someone’s umbrella and pointed it at the kid. “Don’t come near me.”
The other passengers were starting to become alarmed. The fat man stepped forward and said, “It’s all right. Give me the umbrella,” whereupon Amanda pointed the thing at him, then back at monkey boy, then back at the fat man again.
“See here,” said a dark-haired man with a thin mustache. “What’s this about?”
“That monkey peed on me!” Amanda screamed.
“Young man, get that animal out of here,” said the man. “What’s your name, young lady?”
“My name is get out of here. Just leave me alone,” said Amanda, still brandishing the umbrella.
“Let me help you, dear,” said a woman in a brown coat. “Are your parents here?” Amanda shook her head. “Well then, put down the umbrella and I’ll take you to the ladies’. Come on now.” She held her hand out and nodded at Amanda.
Suddenly the wind went out of Amanda’s sails. She gave the umbrella to the woman and let herself be led to the restroom, where the two of them cleaned her up as best they could. This disaster recovery in restrooms thing was beginning to be a habit, and she didn’t like it at all. She thanked the woman and went back to her seat in soggy jeans, shoe,
and sock, shivering. She could still smell the monkey’s urine on her, which made her gag. It was a good thing she had one gingersnap left and it was dry and sanitary.
She was now so drained and upset that all she could do was sit there. The train had been stopped for forty-five minutes. Eight-fifteen. She’d never make it in time. She felt her body give up, and the tears came in a flood.
And then there was a jolt and a grinding, and the train started moving again. She was now six hours behind schedule. Less than four hours remained in which to save her father.
31
The Sugar Factory
Despite King’s Cross Station having been a complete zoo and despite the fact that she’d almost boarded the wrong train to get to Bank Station, Amanda made it to her destination in what seemed to be one piece at slightly after nine. The walk from West Silvertown Station had been harrowing though. The sugar mile was industrial, and sparsely populated at night. Amanda had seen a couple of drunks who had called out, “Hey, girlie. Wanna have some fun?” and “I want to show you something,” and stuff like that. She’d quickened her already frantic pace and given them a wide berth. They’d made her more than a little nervous and she’d imagined herself in a movie to distance herself from the fear and keep it from overwhelming her. After that she’d heard odd noises, like someone screaming, and metal grinding, and had broken into a run, visualizing herself on a huge screen with monsters pursuing her. When she arrived at the plant she was panting.
The factory was near the London City Airport, and the noise of the jets was so loud that she could barely hear herself think. The warehouse, which was unmarked, was one of many along Factory Road, which paralleled the River Thames. It was dark now, but there was enough artificial light that she could see pretty well.
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 25