about, Cal. The world hidden in that carpet. The Fugue.’
‘You want to hide back at my place?’
She shook her head, ‘I risked a call there to get your work number. They could be waiting there already.’
‘Geraldine wouldn’t tell them anything.’
‘I can’t risk that.’
‘We could go to Deke’s place, out in Kirkby. Nobody’ll find us there.’
‘You trust him?’
‘Sure.’
She switched on the engine. ‘I’ll drive,’ she said. ‘You direct.’
3
They turned into James Street, the fury of the rain monsoonal now. They didn’t get far. A few yards down the road the traffic had come to a halt.
Cal wound down his window, and ducked his head out to see what the problem was. It was difficult to be certain of anything through the curtain of rain, but there seemed to have been a collision, and the traffic was backing up behind it. A few of the more impatient drivers in the queue were attempting to nose their way out into the city-bound lane, and failing, thus adding to the confusion. Horns began to blare; one or two drivers got out of their cars, their coats as makeshift umbrellas, to see what was up.
Cal laughed quietly.
‘What’s funny?’ she asked him.
‘An hour ago I was sitting in the Claims Department up to my elbows in paperwork –’
‘Now you’ve got a fugitive for company.’
‘The deal’s fine by me,’ he grinned.
‘Why the hell aren’t we moving?’
‘I’ll go look,’ he said, and before she could prevent him he was out of the car and threading his way through the maze of vehicles, pulling his jacket up in a vain attempt to keep the rain off his head.
She watched him go, her fingers drumming on the wheel. She didn’t like this situation. She was too visible: and visible was vulnerable.
As Cal reached the opposite side of the street, her attention was claimed by a flash of blue lights in the wing mirror. She glanced round to see several police motor-cycles cruising along the queue towards the accident. Her heart jumped a beat.
She looked towards Cal, hoping he was on his way back, but he was still studying the traffic. Come on out of the rain, damn you, she willed him; I need you here.
There were more officers, these on foot, making their way up the street, and they were speaking to the occupants of each car. Diversionary advice, no doubt; innocent enough. All she had to do was keep smiling.
Up ahead, cars were beginning to move off. The riders were directing the traffic around an accident site, bringing a halt to the contrary flow to do so. She looked over towards Cal, who was staring off down the street. Should she get out of the car; call him back? As she weighed the options, an officer appeared at her side, rapping on the window. She wound it down.
‘Wait for the signal,’ he told her. ‘And take it slowly.’
He stared at her, rain dripping off his helmet and his nose.
She offered a smile.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll be careful.’
Though he’d delivered his instructions, he didn’t move from the window, but stared at her.
‘I know your face,’ he said.
‘Really?’ she said, trying for light flirtatiousness, and missing by a mile.
‘What’s your name?’
Before she had time to lie, one of the officers up ahead called to her interrogator. He stood up, giving her an opportunity to glance back in Cal’s direction. He was standing on the edge of the pavement, staring across at the car. She made a small shake of her head, hoping he’d read her signal through the rain-blurred window. The officer caught her warning.
‘Something wrong?’ he said.
‘No,’ she told him. ‘Not at all.’
Another of the officers was approaching the car, shouting something over the din of rain and idling engines. The longer I stay here, she thought, the worse this is going to get; and she wrenched the wheel round. The officer at the window yelled for her to stop, but the die was cast. As the car bolted forward she chanced the briefest of glances in Cal’s direction. She saw to her distress that he was engaged in trying to wind his way between the cars. Though she shouted his name, he was oblivious to her. She shouted again. Too late, he looked up; the officer in the front was running towards the car. He’d reached it before Cal was half way across the road. She had no choice but to make her escape, while she still had a prayer.
She accelerated, the officer in front of her throwing himself out of her path with inches to spare. There was no time to look back for Cal; she skirted the collision site at speed, hoping he’d used the diversion to pick up his heels and run.
She’d travelled no more than four hundred yards when she heard the sound of sirens rising behind her.
4
It took Cal half a dozen seconds to work out what had happened, and another two to curse his sloth. There was a moment of confusion, when none of the officers seemed certain whether to wait for instructions or give chase, during which pause Suzanna was away around the corner.
The officer who’d been at the car window instantly made his way in Cal’s direction, his pace picking up with every step.
Cal pretended he hadn’t seen the man, and began to walk speedily back up towards the monument. There was a shouted summons, and then the sound of pursuit. He ran, not looking behind him. His pursuer was heavily dressed against the rain; Cal was much lighter footed. He made a left into Lower Castle Street, and another onto Brunswick Street, then a right onto Drury Lane. The sirens had begun by now; the bikes were in pursuit of Suzanna.
On Water Street he chanced a backward glance. His pursuer was not in sight. He didn’t slow his pace, however, until he’d put half a mile between himself and the police. Then he hailed himself a taxi and headed back to the house, his head full of questions, and of Suzanna’s face. She’d come and gone too quickly; already he was mourning her absence.
In order to better hold onto her memory, he fumbled for the names she’d spoken; but damn it, they were gone already.
VII
LOST CAUSES
1
he blinding rain proved to be Suzanna’s ally; so, perhaps, did her ignorance of the city. She took every turn she could, only avoiding cul-de-sacs, and the lack of any rationale in her escape route seemed to flummox her pursuers. Her path brought her out into Upper Parliament Street; at which point she put on some speed. The sirens faded behind her.
But it would not be for long, she knew. The noose was tightening once more.
There were breaks in the rain-bellied clouds as she drove from the dry, and shafts of sun found their way between, leaving a sheen of gold on roof and tarmac. But for moments only. Then the clouds sealed their wound, and the benediction ceased.
