Running
Shelton sat behind his desk, drumming his fingers on the blotter.
“I want the recordings reviewed,” he said. “Every one, go back through the whole week.”
“It’s already being worked on.” Elwes was a great believer in trying to anticipate his boss, it did not go unnoticed.
“If nothing’s found, go back further. I want to know why he did it and why he chose now to do it. There must be something on disc.”
“He isn’t recorded all the time, the footage might not show anything.”
“True, but we cover all the bases, leave nothing to chance. Something happened, I want to know what. When I know what it is, I’ll know what to do about it.” Elwes nodded.
“Any news from the chopper yet?”
“Nothing, but he has a good start on us. He left the building at a little after midnight, fourteen hours,” Elwes shrugged, “he could get a long way.”
“Work it out. Miss nothing, assume he’s got transportation, how far can he get in fourteen hours. I want a search made of every possible hiding place, starting now. And Andrew,” The other man looked up from his notes. “I want it done discreetly.”
“Of course.”
“This is not a hard target search, I want him found and brought back here. Minimum force.”
“Got it. What about the helicopter?”
“It stays out. While our men are on the ground I want an eye in the sky. He may get further than you anticipate.”
Elwes stood to leave. Shelton’s voice stopped him. “Get Ricci and Borkan back here as soon as possible.”
Elwes could not disguise the look of surprise on his face. “I thought you said minimum force?”
“I did, Andrew. I also said we cover all the bases. Be prepared for any eventuality.”
“Then shouldn’t we also bring back Holly?”
Shelton smiled, his thin lips stretching wide, there was a glint in his eyes. “Why Andrew, with a mind like yours, one day you could be running the show here.” Shelton nodded his approval. “Of course, our Adam should have his Eve. Contact the delightful Ms. Stowe, tell her her presence is required.”
Elwes walked to the door.
“One more thing.”
He turned, looking back at the small man seated in the soft leather chair.
“That sad excuse of an employee…”
“Carter.”
“Yes, Carter.”
“He’s… . waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Andrew.”
The door swung closed behind Elwes, cutting off his view of Shelton. He shivered involuntarily as he headed for his own office.
There had been money in the baker’s jacket. Alex walked for almost two hours, sneezing occasionally, his throat sore, one more ache to distract him. The bus had come along just at the time he was beginning to feel that he could not go on much further. He had not liked being on the open road, kept wondering just how much of a head start he had. The small town had been left behind in the mist and he followed what appeared to be the main route inland. He passed many bus stops on the road, but none of them had a timetable. They might not even be running, he thought, it’s Christmas, although the festive occasion was four days ago, buses might be shut down for the week in out of the way places like this. He had no choice but to follow the road. He knew how to drive, but had no idea how to hot wire a car, unless he could find a vehicle with the keys in it, public transport was his best means of escape, no matter how dangerous it might be. He needed to get to a place where he could hide out. He was desperately tired, and feeling worse by the second, the freezing cold water of the sea seemed to have sunk into his bones, replacing the marrow there. His veins were frozen ropes of ice. He shivered and his teeth chattered as he walked.
Three times he had to duck out of sight at the sound of an approaching vehicle. A thick hedgerow provided cover and he plunged through the rain soaked foliage barely in time to avoid being seen by the coming cars. Thick grass heavy with morning dew and overnight rain soaked greedily through his already wet clothes adding to his misery but he’d rather be cold than dead and there was no saying who was driving those cars.
When the bus came, it took him by surprise. The hedgerow had thinned out, now only a low wall marked the edge of the road. Even if he had time vault over it and attempt to hide himself, it would have been an obsolete gesture. The wall was chipped and broken, stones missing and mortar crumbling. He had slipped over the rise of a steep incline, the road behind him lost on the other side of the hill. His mind was on other things. His escape, his betrayal. He did not hear the noise of the engine until it was too late. He looked up in time to see the top of the single deck bus crest the hill. Panic ran up his chest and gripped his throat. What if… ? There was no time to think. He was nowhere near one of the periodically placed stops but he thrust out his arm. There was a hiss of air brakes as the bus slowed to a stop, coming to a halt four or five feet past Alex. The doors opened. Alex remained where he was, feet frozen to the spot.
“Well, are you getting on, or not?” Alex did not move. “Suit yourself!” The driver moved to close the doors.
“No, wait!” Alex called out. He made his feet move, running the few steps to the doors and hoisting himself onto the bus.
“I haven’t got all day. Got a timetable to keep to.”
“Sorry.”
The driver looked him up and down, saw his dishevelled hair, the damp, mud and sand and grass stained jeans, the small graze above Alex’s eye and the snags and tears in the anorak from his sudden dives through the hedgerow. He looked at Alex suspiciously.
“So? Where are you going?”
“How much to the end?”
“The terminus?”
Alex nodded.
“Running away from something, son?”
Alex dropped some coins into the small cash tray in front of him. “Will that cover it?”
The driver dragged his eyes away from Alex’s face long enough to look at the money. “That should do it,” he said finally.
Alex walked past him, taking a seat halfway down the aisle, three seats behind an old couple, buttoned up in their winter gear. The old man glanced nervously at the ragged looking younger man as he past and leaned to whisper to his wife. The only other passenger sat at the back of the bus, the teenage girl stared openly at Alex as he took his seat and slumped down, his knees pressing into the back of the seat in front of him, his head resting on the dusty glass of the window. He paid her no attention, barely noticed she was there. He was tired. He heard the doors swing shut at the front of the bus, felt the pull as the driver engaged gears and drove away. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, he just needed to rest a little, that was all.
He awoke to the faint sounds of rustling, the sound quiet, underneath the noise of the bus coming to a stop, the sigh of hydraulic brakes and the change of engine tone. It was none of those sounds that brought him to the surface. It was a feeling, a presence. His breath hitched in his throat and he sat upright quickly, eyes blurred with sleep. His sudden movement startled the girl, she gasped involuntarily and snatched her hand away from the pocket of Alex’s jacket. Instinctively, his hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
“Oww,” the girl cried out sharply. Up ahead, the driver glanced in his mirror, making eye contact with the girl. She stared defiantly back at him and he averted his eyes. The old couple were no longer in their seats, Alex and the girl were the only passengers.
“What are you doing?” Alex demanded.
“Let go, you’re hurting me.”
“What do you want,” Alex ignored her.
“Nothing, I… I was trying to wake you up, we’re at the end of the line, let go of me.”
“Your hand was in my pocket, you were trying to steal from me.”
“You’re crazy, why would I steal from you, now let go of my fucking arm or I’ll scream.” The girl was angry, flashes of hatred in her eyes but she was only whispering.
“Who are you?” Alex loosened his grip slightly but did not let go. His immediate thought was that she was from The Clinic but now he discarded that idea, but there was something about her, he was starting to get a feel of what it was…
“None of your fucking business who I am, creep. Why would I steal from you? Look at you, you’re a fuckin’ mess, no self respecting thief would go near you, the driver was right, you’re runnin’ away, you’re probably a thief, now let go… of my… arm!” The girl tugged violently and freed her wrist from Alex’s hold just as the bus turned into the gloomy interior of the bus station. She almost fell off the seat. Alex reached out and grabbed a hold of her leather jacket, saved her from falling. The sepia tones faded away behind his eyes.
“I’m not the only one running away, am I Louise?” The explosive sigh of the bus’ brakes masked the sound of Alex’s voice, but the girl clearly heard him call her name. The bus stopped and the driver opened the doors, he watched them in his mirror. A look of confusion mixed with fear crossed the girl’s face. She stood quickly and began to back down the bus, her heels caught and she stumbled, a hand flailed out and caught hold of a rail and she turned and ran to the doors and off the bus.
The driver got out of his seat, he had seen the exchange between his passengers, he hadn’t heard what they said and he could see that the scruffy young man had not actually harmed the girl but he could sense that he was trouble and he did not want trouble on his bus. He was a big man, broad in the chest with a stomach that had always been flat and was only now, in middle age beginning to run to fat, he stood up straight, filling the aisle with his imposing bulk.
“This is where you get off.”
It was not an invitation. Alex sighed and pulled himself out of the seat, his muscles locked in protest and he grimaced as he straightened up. He stared out the windows, grimed with winter dirt, into the ill lit bus garage, the area was large and mostly empty of people but there were rows of buses and behind any of them could be a surprise waiting for him. He ran a hand through his hair and walked slowly and stiffly down the aisle. At the doors, the driver stepped back to allow him passage, Alex brushed past him, one foot on the lower step when the driver grasped his arm. Alex froze.
“What are you afraid of, boy?” He heard the measure of real concern in the man’s voice. He glanced back at him and quickly looked away.
“Nothing,” he lied and took another step, the driver released him and he stepped out into the terminal.
The bus was parked in the third lane and Alex could see the glass doors that led from the garage into the waiting area. He crossed the lanes and pushed through the doors. The waiting area was much better lit than the garage, benches placed at regular intervals like pews in a church and like most churches, only a few of the seats were occupied, also like a house or worship, most of those who sat on the benches were lost souls, only these souls were looking for redemption not in bibles but in the small travel vouchers purchased at the counters across the floor under the signs that read “Departures”. Alex stood in the doorway and scanned the room. He saw the girl, Louise, second in line at one of the departure windows. She glanced around as if sensing his inspection, their eyes met briefly for a second before she turned her head away, blushing. No one else gave Alex more than a passing glance. He looked a mess, he knew, but people who looked a lot worse passed through waiting rooms like this all the time, for the moment he was invisible to everyone except the girl, she was at the window now, fumbling through her purse, plucking out crumpled notes and passing them under the safety glass. Alex pushed her out of his mind. He might not look out of place here, but he couldn’t stay here. He had to get further away and wherever he went, he would like to be as unobtrusive as he could. He needed to clean himself up. There was a sign indicating a washroom and he walked briskly towards it, his steps echoing in the large open room. He passed through the door into the solitude of the washroom, leaning his back against the slowly closing door, shutting out the rest of the world. He did not have long. He checked his watch, it was mid morning and they couldn’t be far behind now. The bus station was an obvious place for them to check. He quickly washed his face, scrubbing away dirt and grime and the smear of blood on his forehead. Blood had dried to a scab on the back of his hand and he washed that off too, relishing the comfort the hot water gave him. He cupped water into his hands and ran them through his hair smoothing down his dark locks. He stared in the mirror and told himself he now looked passable, as long as nobody looked too hard or too close for too long. His sweatshirt was filthy with mud and sand so he kept the baker’s jacket zipped to the neck, his jeans too, were stained and he just had to hope that no one would notice.
The baker had carried a reasonable amount of money in his jacket, Alex again saw the face of the man’s wife and wondered if she knew how much her husband carried about his person, he thought not. Whatever, he was grateful that the man kept his money there.
It was time to move, he would prefer not to use the bus again, it was too easy to track, but he had no choice, he just hoped he still had enough time to make it to a bigger city. He left the washroom and stopped at a display board, reading the times of the next buses. He ran his eyes down the listing until he found a bus that was leaving in five minutes. It would take him another hundred miles or so away and the city was much larger. It was going to have to do. He approached the departure windows, there was an empty station, Alex reached it just as the man behind the window placed the position closed sign in front.
“Please,” Alex called, “my ride is about to go.”
The attendant stared stonily at him, ready to ignore his request. It wasn’t his problem if he got here late, was it? Should have got here earlier. He had a mug in his hand, was about to head off to the coffee room for his break.
“You’re late.”
“I got here as fast as I could, please, I need to be on that bus.”
“And I need my caffeine fix.”
A hundred obscenities flashed through Alex’s mind.
“Where you headed, son?”
The next window, the only other one open was now clear of customers, the woman behind the desk learned over and called to Alex. He shuffled across to the window and told her, shoving his money through the gap at the bottom of the safety glass.
“Don’t mind him,” the ticket seller advised, “he’s a miserable son of a bitch.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alex shrugged, trying to pretend that catching the bus was not a life or death issue. The woman saw the gleam of anxiety in his eyes.
“Uh-huh,” she said stamping his ticket, “matters to me, I’ve been married to him for the last eight years, God knows why.” She pushed the ticket under the glass, Alex almost snatched it out of her hands.
“Thanks,” he said and turned away, running for the garage.
“You’re welcome,” she said to his retreating back, watching him all the way to the doors until he disappeared from view.
His bus was at the far end of the garage, lane eight, he sprinted across the lanes and the small islands where people would queue to board at busy times. He heard an engine roar into life and headlights came on, cutting through the gloom, his bus!
“Wait!” He called out, the doors were still open. Lane six. He leaped over a row of three moulded plastic chairs on the platform between six and seven, his foot skidded in a pool of diesel and he almost lost his balance, his arms pin-wheeled and he remained on his feet. The driver looked over at him, hand on the lever that would close the doors. Alex reached the bus and clambered up the steps. “Thanks,” he gasped, breathing heavily.
“Close,” the driver said and the doors wheezed shut behind Alex. He nodded and made his way down the bus. It was half full and he looked quickly at each person as he passed them, avoiding eye contact where possible. Was anyone from The Clinic on the bus? One person stared him boldly in the eye. He stopped for a second when he saw her, then, strangely reassured, he continued. The girl watched him, turning around in her seat to follow him with her eyes. He sat three rows behind her, met her gaze and smiled at her. She glowered at him and turned in her seat facing forward without speaking. He was right. He wasn’t the only one running away.