this, but surely not quite as bad.
So quiet.
She hadn’t heard any movement from Dan for a while. ‘Dan?’
No answer.
‘Dan? You okay in there?’ she called out again.
Nothing, for a moment, then the sound of something scraping in there.
‘Dan?’
She saw something through the frosted glass, a dark outline, swaying slightly.
‘Dan, is that you?’
It hesitated for a moment, froze. And then she saw it moving again, a hand reaching out for the door.
The door swung open and she saw Dan, his face expressionless, pale.
‘Oh my God, are you all right?’ she asked.
Dan nodded slowly, as he made his way back across the office towards the counter. ‘Let’s go,’ he said quietly. ‘Now. Let’s just get out of here.’
‘What’s up? Did you see something?’
He joined her on the far side of the counter and grabbed her hand. ‘Let’s just go.’
‘Any sign of the police?’
He nodded again and swallowed uncomfortably. ‘Yeah, I saw one.’
They headed outside, screwing up their eyes against the bright sunlight as they stepped through the double doors. ‘I think we should head back,’ said Dan, ‘I’ve seen enough for now.’
Leona pointed to her left. ‘There’s a supermarket just there, do you see? Maybe we’ll find police guarding it?’
‘Maybe, but why don’t we just go home, Lee?’
Leona grabbed his arm and looked at him. ‘I really want to find a policeman, Dan. I just want to hear from someone in charge what we’re supposed to do.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, ‘the supermarket then home.’
CHAPTER 47
2.01 p.m. GMT Hammersmith, London
The motorbike across the road from him would be ideal, Ash decided. The man sitting on it was merely an inconvenience he would quickly dispense with. He picked his way across the junction, cluttered with some shopping baskets and about a million sheets of printer paper spread out across the silent road like snow, fluttering in the light afternoon breeze.
The man on the bike was a policeman, and he was busy surveying the junction. On any other day at this time, it would be locked to a standstill with traffic. Today it was deserted. Ash noticed a few dozen other people in the vicinity, picking through the fall-out of last night.
The policeman quickly became aware of Ash approaching in a direct line.
‘Can you stay back please, sir,’ he said in an even tone.
Ash slowed down, but didn’t stop. ‘I need some help,’ he replied. ‘I need an ambulance,’ he added, in his mind quickly throwing together some story that needed to only hold together for another twenty seconds, another ten yards.
‘What’s the problem?’ the policeman asked.
Ash continued forward. ‘My wife, she needs a hospital, badly.’
The policeman held out an arm, ‘Please stay where you are, sir. What’s wrong with her?’
Ash slowed his pace right down, but kept closing the gap. His face crumpled with anguish. ‘Oh God, I think she’s dying! I can’t . . . I can’t . . .’
The policeman’s hand drifted to the saddlebag where Ash could see the butt of a firearm sticking out of it. ‘I said, stay where you are!’
He almost stopped.
Five yards . . . just a little bit closer.
The policeman studied Ash, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. ‘There’s nothing I can do right now, sir. I can call it in, but the service is stretched as it is. What’s wrong with her?’
Ash took another tentative step forward.
Good enough.
‘Stay where you are!’
Ash produced his thin blade and lunged forward, sliding into the policeman’s stomach as he fumbled for his gun. He tugged it upwards with a sawing action the way you’d fillet a fish, knowing the catastrophic damage the blade was doing inside. With his other hand he grabbed one of the policeman’s wrists and held it firmly. The policeman’s unrestrained hand reached around to where the blade had gone in, fumbling and slapping ineffectually at it, trying to pull it out.
‘Shhhh,’ said Ash. ‘Easy does it,’ he whispered, his face close to the man’s, almost intimate. ‘It’ll all be over in a second my friend.’ Ash lifted him off the motorbike and laid him gently down on the pavement, his mouth flapping open and closed, producing only an unhappy gurgling sound.
Ash climbed on to the bike. A few of the people nearby seemed to have noticed and stared slack-jawed at him as he kick-started the bike.
Guildford.
He’d spent last night by candle-light, studying the Sutherlands’ London A to Z. Provided the roads were clear and there weren’t any roadblocks, he estimated he could find his way there sometime this afternoon. And hopefully find this sister, Kate,