I shuddered, she touched my arm and said, ‘It’s going to be all right, Chris, really it is.’
I looked up to find Sally regarding me sombrely from a little way into the trees. She just nodded slowly.
I looked back at Jill, but she’d gone — they’d both gone. I threw myself down on the pine needles and wept.
The sackcloth rubbed against my wet cheek. It was pitch dark and I was cold. My bladder ached.
I couldn’t find my way out, so I took a few cautious steps and relieved myself. Then I found some more sacks, pulled them over me and lay shivering.
*
Voices. A shaft of sunlight.
‘Oh, great. I wonder what genius stacked ’em there.’
‘C’mon, let’s get on with it.’
Footsteps moved towards me. I looked round desperately, but there was nowhere to hide.
I stood up and the two men stopped dead. One tall, one short.
‘What the bloody ’ell are you doin’ ’ere?’ said the taller.
What does a sailor sound like? I cleared my throat. ‘Sorry, mate. Got pissed last night and couldn’t find me ship. Kipped down ’ere.’
Their faces relaxed a little.
‘You musta bin pissed, the ships are just over there.’
‘Come over me sudden. Jus’ ’ad to lie down.’
‘What’s your ship?’
‘Santiago. Bound for Portugal.’ Funny how these things come back to you.
‘What’s she carrying?’
‘Steel.’
A grunt. ‘I know her. You could be outa luck, mate. She’s due out this morning on the tide.’
‘Oh Christ! Where is she?’
‘Over in Royal Edward Dock.’
The other said, ‘How come you didn’t know that?’
‘’Cos I’m jus’ joinin’ her, that’s why,’ I said impatiently. ‘Now how about showin’ me the way?’
They looked at each other.
‘’E won’t make it,’ said the shorter.
‘Unless…’ said the taller.
‘Shall we?’
‘Why not?’ He turned to me. ‘C’mon, we’ll take you over in the van.’
‘Thanks.’ I could hardly believe it. ‘Sorry about this… ’
‘Never mind that now, c’mon.’
Feeling my left arm to make sure the cuff was secure, I followed them out into the morning sun, climbed into the battered old Transit and sat between them.
‘’Aven’t you got a bag?’ asked the shorter.
‘Sent it on ahead.’
They seemed to accept this, and a moment later we were speeding across the greasy tarmac and past the line of ships I’d seen earlier. I sat silently, hoping they wouldn’t think of any more questions, hoping I didn’t smell — not that that really mattered.
We passed beneath the shadows of several huge warehouses, through an open area with rows of empty trailers, then over some sidings and into the other dock. I’d never have found it on my own.
‘Gangplank’s still down.’
‘Looks like you’re in luck,’ said the taller. The cranes beside the ship were still, and as we drew up I could see a couple of crewmen working in the stern. The name Santiago was streaked with rust.
‘Thanks,’ I said, meaning it.
They let me out, but stayed beside the van, watching as I approached the ship.
What if they wouldn’t let me aboard? I mounted the gangplank. The two crewmen stopped work and one of them came towards me.
‘You want something?’ he said as I reached the top. Foreign accent, Portuguese, perhaps. ‘We make sail. What you want?’
I smiled — raised a hand, for the benefit of the men below. ‘Where’s Captain Lydeard?’
‘What you want him for?’
‘Just take me to him. Very important.’
Reluctantly he said, ‘Come,’ and turned away. I waved at the men below and followed him up some steps to the bridge.
‘God Almighty!’ Alan’s jaw dropped comically, or at least, it would have been if it wasn’t so serious.
‘Hello, Alan. Can we talk?’
‘You want me to get rid of him, skipper?’ said the crewman.
‘No,’ said Alan. ‘Not yet, anyway, leave us a few minutes.’ The door clicked shut.
Alan turned on me. ‘You must be bloody mad. I’ve got to give you up, you realize that, don’t you.’
Statement, not question. How to play this? ‘I’d give myself up, now, if I thought it would do any good. I didn’t do it, Alan.’
‘Just what am I suppose to say to that? God, man!’ he exploded. ‘I could go to prison for this. Who the hell d’you think you are? What right have you got to risk my freedom?’ He sighed. ‘You wouldn’t last a week in Portugal. Do you speak Portuguese? Have you got a passport? You’d be caught inside a few days, and I’d be done for helping you. Bloody hell, Chris — ’
‘I don’t want to go to Portugal.’
Silence while he stared. Then:
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Back to Oxford. Drop me off near Watchport. I’ll swim if necessary.’
‘Your house’ll be watched. You’ll be caught.’
‘Let me worry about that.’
‘But why? Why Oxford?’
‘If I can get back, there’s just a chance I can find something to prove my innocence. It’s my only hope.’
Another silence. His eyes searched my face.
‘You really mean that, don’t you?’
‘Yes. D’you want me to tell you about it?’ He hesitated. ‘All right, but make it quick. We’re sailing in half an hour.’
I told him about Sally and John, about John’s discovery, the computer, and how I’d come to be found with Sally’s body.
‘Chris — ’ he held my eyes — ‘are you sure you didn’t — no, listen, could you have had some sort of blackout, not been truly responsible, you know…’
‘I’ve been over it a hundred times,’ I said, mustering all the conviction I could, ‘and I know I didn’t do it.’
‘Then who did?’
I told him about Dave. ‘I’m sure it’s to do with John’s work on AIDS. Dave must be some sort of hit man. I think he’s killed John as well.’
‘How is any of this going to help you prove your…your innocence?’
‘I need to get to that computer. You see — ’ I looked up — ‘I know what the password is now.’
‘How does that help?’
‘I’ll prove that John’s work exists — the police don’t even believe that at the moment. It shows why Sally and I were in his flat, and it’s the motive for whoever did kill her.’
‘A bit thin, isn’t it?’
‘A cure for AIDS? You could name your own price for that at the moment.’
‘Possibly,’ he conceded. ‘What are you going to do when you get to Watchport?’
I told him and he gazed thoughtfully at me for a long moment.
Then he said, ‘Well, as it happens, you’re in luck. We’re stopping at Watchport to pick up a cargo.’
I tried to thank him but he cut me short. ‘I’ve got work to do. You’d better stay in my cabin for now.’
‘What about the crew? I mean, do they know — ’
‘Not much. The police came to me yesterday about you. I — I promised to tell them if I saw you — ’
‘And will you?’
He slowly shook his head. ‘I’ll get the crew running round now. I’ll make up something if necessary and say you left the ship.’
He put his head outside the bridge door, then beckoned me to follow. A seagull wailed overhead. We went down the steps, then immediately into a corridor which led to his cabin.
‘Just stay here,’ he said when I was inside. ‘Lock the door and only open it for me. I’ll knock like this.’ He showed me. ‘I’ve got to go now. I’ll be back when we’re at sea.’
I locked the door as he said, then sat on the bed. The silence was gradually filled
with background noises, the hum of a generator, sporadic clanging, the rattle of a donkey engine.
I looked around the cabin. It was small, about fifteen feet by ten. Neat and tidy, everything in place. A photo of Alison and their two children…and another of Jill.
I picked it up. She was smiling, the same smile she’d given me in the dream.
There was a jug of water by the bed. I seized and drained it.
Metallic footsteps overhead, someone shouting. I looked cautiously out of the porthole, but it was facing seawards.
I felt dizzy and leaned back against the side of the cabin and closed my eyes. More shouts and a growling noise as something was dragged across the deck.
Perhaps ten minutes later a vibration was transmitted through the cabin-side to my head. The sky moved. I looked out of the porthole again, and very slowly at first, the derricks on the other side of the docks slid by. We passed another ship being loaded, then through a lock and into the estuary. The vibration increased and the ship took on a rocking motion as we reached the sea.
I was still staring out of the porthole at the myriad reflections from the waves when Alan knocked.
I opened the door, he slipped in and locked it behind him.
‘We’ll be off Watchport in about six hours,’ he said. ‘Then we have to wait at anchor for another four before going in.’
‘Why?’
‘There won’t be enough water until the tide comes in. When did you last eat?’
‘Yesterday morning.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
He went out and was back five minutes later with half a loaf of bread, some butter and cheese, and a mug of coffee.
‘All I could get without someone noticing,’ he said. And then after a few minutes,
‘God, you needed that! I’ll get you some more when the crew eat.’ He pulled a chair towards me. ‘Now, tell me again what you intend doing after we get to Watchport.’
We talked for nearly an hour, then he left me for a while. I watched the sea and the gulls that flew alongside the ship. I could have watched them forever, become one with them. The ultimate in freedom.
The next time Alan came, he had a paper discarded by one of the crew as well as some more food. A blurred likeness of me peered from page two with a description of how I’d escaped. I was described as potentially dangerous and was thought to be in the Bristol area.
That didn’t matter. What did matter was that seeing me in print, so to speak, seemed to have given Alan second thoughts. He questioned me closely again about what had happened.
At last, in despair, I seized Jill’s picture from the shelf.
‘I swear on this, on Jill’s memory, that I’m telling you the truth,’ I said, meeting his eyes.
He nodded slowly. ‘All right, I’ll trust you. But if it turns out you’ve been lying,’ he said, with each word distinct, ‘I swear I’ll break your neck.’
*
The worst part was waiting at anchor for the tide. I could see the town through the porthole, clustered around the harbour; steam rose from a train in the station beside it and white blobs of houses stretched away up the hill to the church tower silhouetted against the sky. For a moment, I was so homesick I wanted to jump off and swim.
Then at last the pilot’s launch appeared from the harbour mouth, ploughing through the choppy sea towards us.
Half an hour later the ship was bumping against the wharf, and a little while after that Alan re-appeared.
‘I’ve sent the crew into town,’ he said. ‘Let’s try and get those cuffs off.’
He led me deep into the ship, through the engine-room to a tiny workshop.
‘This is where you’re going to have to trust me,’ he said, grinning for the first time that day. He switched on an electric carborundum wheel and, bracing himself against the bench, held and pushed the cuff against it. Sparks flew, as though from a firework. I closed my eyes.
It was like having a tooth drilled, the noise and the vibrations seemed to go on forever.
Then there was a sharp pain and the noise stopped.
I opened my eyes to see a few drops of blood beading my wrist.
‘Sorry about that.’ Alan grinned again. ‘Worthwhile exchange.’ I twisted off the cuff. ‘Would you get rid of them for me?’
‘I’ll drop them overboard tomorrow.’
‘Is it dark yet? I’d better get over to Joe’s.’
‘No, let me scout around first, in case the police are there.’
When he returned twenty minutes later he had Joe with him.
‘Chrees!’ he embraced me. ‘I see you in the papers, the police they ask questions, but I cannot believe.’ He really does talk like that. ‘I think I never see you again.’
He’d brought his barber’s impedimenta with him, and began to set it up.
‘See any police?’ I asked Alan.
‘They’ve got your place staked out all right,’ he said grimly, ‘and they’ve warned all your neighbours to watch out for you — ’
‘I tell them nosink,’ said Joe.
‘Did they see you leave?’
‘We slipped out through the back yard,’ said Alan. ‘Nobody saw us.’
Joe had spread a sheet on the floor, now he sat me in a chair in front of a washbasin and began work, first taking off my beard and moustache with clippers, then starting on my hair.
When he gave me the mirror half an hour later, I really couldn’t believe it. The face that looked back was clean-shaven and topped with very short, fair hair. He’d even dyed my eyebrows.
‘Remember,’ he warned me, ‘one week and the dark hairs will begin to show.’
‘You’d better remember to shave every morning as well,’ said Alan. ‘Fair hair doesn’t go very well with black stubble.’
An hour later, after a shower, a change of clothes and some more food, I felt, as well as looked, a different person. Joe lent me his son’s car, an old Vauxhall Viva, and Alan lent me his binoculars, forty pounds and his cash dispenser card. I looked at the latter in astonishment.
‘You’ll need more than forty quid,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’d better buy some more clothes, mine look a bit loose on you.’
‘Alan, if I’m caught and they find this, you’ll be implicated.’
‘True. Use it tonight and again tomorrow morning, then post it back to me.’
I left Watchport by a side road and drove slowly to Bridgwater, getting used to the car, then across country to Swindon in case the police had set up roadblocks on the motorway. I stayed in a small anonymous hotel and was up at seven the next morning and on my way back to Oxford.
CHAPTER 13
The Dreaming Spires pricked the skyline as I came down from the Swindon road; the city beneath like a bed upon which Sally and John now slept forever, a bed to which I had to return…
It was just after 8.00. I drove straight to the hospital and found a vantage-point about a hundred yards from the lab entrance, from where with the binoculars I could see without being seen.
My plan was simple as far as it went: to follow Dave and find out where he was staying, then break into the laboratory and get a printout of John’s data. I hadn’t really thought beyond that. I suppose I intended somehow to force a confession out of Dave and use it with the printout.
The ancillaries arrived at 8.30. Next came Mary at a quarter to nine, then Ron at ten to and Phil just after. Most of the rest streamed in after that. It was so strange watching them climb the steps to the door as though nothing had happened.
Ian arrived at ten past as usual, slamming his car door and running breathlessly across the car park. Dave didn’t come until twenty past.
He was in no hurry. He locked the door of his car, an immaculate Mini Cooper, and sauntered over to the lab, one hand in his pocket. I couldn’t tear my eyes from him, although the sight of him tightened a band round my chest so that I couldn’t breathe.
He was about to go in when another car pulled up by the door. Charles was b
ack, his tan a shade or two deeper. Dave waited for him and they stood outside talking for a moment or two.
I could see every detail of Dave’s face, his every hair — suddenly he raised his head and for a moment it was as though he were looking into my eyes. I wanted to duck out of sight, even though I knew it was only an illusion caused by the binoculars.
He turned away and they went inside.
A couple of minutes later, Carey arrived. He climbed out of his Range-Rover, retrieved his briefcase and slammed the door. I heard the solid clunk half a second later. He strode to the steps, his lips pursed in a self-satisfied little smile.
I found myself trembling. What right had he, had any of them to be free, to just carry on as normal while I had to creep about in disguise?
I waited in the car until I became calmer, then drove to the city centre and bought some clothes (cord jeans, a sweater and sweatshirt), also a razor, soap and toothbrush and a newspaper. I drew another fifty pounds with the cash card and posted it back to Alan as promised, then found a room in an inconspicuous guesthouse called The Pines.
I had some food and coffee and read the paper. My escape only rated a couple of paragraphs now, although the police were still confident of apprehending me at any moment.
Midday found me back at my vantage-point, watching some of the staff drift over to the canteen. Then Dave came out, by himself, and walked over to his car.
It was what I’d been waiting for. I let him drive to the gate, then cautiously followed. He turned right. So did I. There were two cars between us. St Giles…left into Broad Street…then right, through the Science Area. So long as there was a car between us, I kept fairly close, hanging back if it stopped or turned off.
Three cars as we waited at the Longwall traffic lights. Then over Magdalen Bridge, the Plains, Cowley Road…he must be going to John’s flat!
Then he jumped an amber light, the car in front of me stopped and by the time we were moving again, he’d completely disappeared. There was nothing I could do but drive on to the flat.
His car wasn’t there, so I parked nearby and waited. The house looked so ordinary in the sunshine, so like anywhere else.
As I sat there, thinking about Dave returning to the scene of the crime, it suddenly occurred to me that I was doing just that myself. I was behaving as though I were invisible.
Bad Medicine- A Life for a Life; Bed of Nails; Going Viral Page 31