12
It was happening again. Danny was convinced he was being followed on the way to Liverpool Street Station. There was no sign of the TDM motorbike; it was more of a gut feeling. He was being watched.
On the street, on the bus, everyone seemed to be looking towards him and then turning away as he returned their stare. He got off the bus before it reached the station and walked. A man in a brown bomber jacket was following him, Danny was certain. But when he stopped and looked back, the man went into a shop.
Danny thought about running, but decided it would only draw more attention. So he walked faster, went straight past the entrance to the station and kept going. Then he doubled back on himself through side streets and entered the station through the bus pull-in entrance. He went quickly to the ticket office, got a return ticket and went to the platform where the train was waiting.
Late morning was one of the quieter times at Liverpool Street and Danny had the section of the carriage he chose to himself. Within a few minutes the train was pulling away and quickly gaining speed as it moved through east London.
The carriage was grimy and drab, with ripped seats and WEST HAM ARE CRAP – TOTTENHAM RULE gouged into the glass of one of the windows. The train didn't stop as it went through Stratford and Ilford and past the greyhound track at Romford and then out into the commuter land of Essex. First stop was Brentwood. A few people got off and even fewer got on, and Danny was relieved when no one chose the same compartment as him.
The train stopped at every station after that. Shenfield, Billericay, Wickford, and then his stop, Rayleigh. Judging from the website maps, it was the closest to where he wanted to be, but not quite close enough.
Danny jumped from the compartment and ran towards the exit as soon as the train came to a standstill. He didn't look back to see who was following but rushed past the ticket collector and out into the street. He expected to be in the town centre. He wasn't. A long, uphill climb past semi-detached houses eventually brought him to the shops and a one-way traffic system.
He went into a shop and bought a road map for the whole of the area, and a shop assistant told him he had to go back down the hill to pick up the bus he needed. On the way he called Elena.
'Did he make any calls?'
'No, none made or received. Are you all right?'
'Yeah, but I'm being followed again.'
'Have you seen someone then?'
'Well no, but . . . it's just a feeling.'
Danny could hear the irritation in Elena's voice as she answered. 'Danny, you are really winding me up, and making me nervous. I sit here worrying and waiting for you to call and then all you can say is you think you're being followed. You're not. You're imagining it. Just call when you've got something useful to tell me!'
She hung up. She'd never done that to Danny before. He didn't like it.
The bus carried Danny out of town, past a housing estate and then into a less built-up area. He got off near a large roundabout which connected with the trunk road he'd seen on the website map.
From there it was a question of walking or hitching. He decided to hitch. It was another first: hitching a lift isn't an option in south-east London.
Cars and lorries roared by; the road throbbed with traffic, and then a battered pick-up truck loaded with building material pulled in ahead of him. He ran to the truck and the passenger door creaked open on rusty hinges. The driver was leaning over, his hand still on the door, and Danny spotted the letters H A T E tattooed on the knuckles.
The driver smiled when he saw Danny's look. 'Don't worry, mate, the other one's more friendly.'
He stuck out his right fist. It read L O V E. The driver shrugged. 'Seemed like a good idea at the time. Where you going?'
'I don't know, somewhere down this road.'
It didn't seem an adequate answer, and it wasn't. 'You taking the piss?'
'No. No, honest. I'm not sure where I'm going till I get there.'
The truck driver laughed. 'Sounds like the story of my life, mate. You'd better jump in. I'm Colin.'
They drove for nearly ten minutes while Danny gazed out at the flat, open landscape and listened to Colin's story of how his girlfriend, Cheryl, had almost dumped him when he first revealed L O V E and H A T E.
'She's got used to them now, but it was a nightmare for a while. Wouldn't even talk to me, and as for her mother—'
'Stop!' yelled Danny.
Colin stood on the clutch and brake pedals. The brakes screamed in protest and the truck skidded into the grass verge in a cloud of blue smoke. The smell of burning rubber leaked into the cab and Colin turned to Danny with his eyes blazing. 'What the hell are you playing at? You could have killed us.'
'I'm sorry, I've got to get out. That's it – that place back there.'
They'd driven past a lay-by on the opposite side of the road. At the back of the lay-by stood a roadside café with a mobile number painted on the side and a Union Jack flying above it. Parked alongside was an old blue Fiesta.
Danny opened the door and jumped out. 'I'm sorry about . . . Thanks.' He pushed the door shut and watched as Colin shoved the truck back into gear and drove away. Then he took out his phone and punched in a text to Elena:
IVE FOUND HIM.
He switched off the phone. He didn't want to be disturbed now, not even by Elena.