need to breathe real air.’ She clambered out and stood out in the rain, her head lifted towards the downpour. Even in the inadequate light he noticed the skin around her mouth was red from the plaster. The jeans, trainers and sweatshirt she was wearing looked too big for her but they were thicker than her skirt and thin sweater.
‘Where did you get the clothes?’
‘They came with the car. If you get back inside, I’ll organise some food.’
She picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘I have to go behind the bushes.’
As she walked away, he called out, ‘That’s far enough.’
When she returned she climbed into the back and pulled the second blanket over her lap. He lifted a box of food into the front passenger seat and pressed down the central locking device before switching on the ignition to keep the heater running.
‘What do you want to eat?’
‘I’m too thirsty to think of food,’ she replied.
‘There’s wine if you don’t mind smashing the top off the bottle, beer, brandy, and this.’ He offered her the remaining can of soft drink he’d purloined from the hospital locker-room. She made a face.
‘Try a beer.’ He opened a can and handed it to her.
She drank half of it in one thirsty swallow, only to regret her greed when the alcohol hit her empty stomach and her head began to swim.
‘Do you have bread?’
‘Pumpernickel or French baguette?’
‘Baguette,’ she saw the cheese and added, ‘Brie.’
Forgetting the gun, she reached over his shoulder into the box and lifted out a full silver moon of her favourite cheese. ‘Have you a knife?’
‘To cut the cheese or stab me?’ he enquired dryly.
‘Sorry, stupid question.’ She unwrapped the Brie and broke off a segment.
Mouth full of garlic sausage and pumpernickel he leaned against the dashboard and watched her.
She finished a second lump of cheese, and snapped off a piece of sausage. ‘Can I have another beer?’ she asked after emptying her first can. He handed her one.
‘We’re going to Brecon.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘It’s the logical place to start.’
‘And if you don’t like what you find there?’
He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I need to find out who I am.’
‘Then you really have lost your memory?’
‘Did you ever doubt it?’
‘Yes.’ She took the remains of the French loaf from the box. ‘What do you intend to do with me when you get there?’
He looked her in the eye. ‘You’ll find out – when we get there.’
CHAPTER SIX
Simmonds watched Lieutenant-Colonel Heddingham replace the telephone receiver. ‘Have they set up a Cabinet Office briefing room?’
‘An hour ago.’ Heddingham snapped.
‘That’s routine in a case like this,’ Simmonds sympathized.
‘It means they believe we’re incompetent,’
Heddingham pronounced flatly.
‘I defy anyone to have done more.’ The police superintendent took Heddingham’s comments as personal criticism. He’d allowed the army officers to take control of the Command Cell he’d set up in his police station to oversee “Operation West”. He’d remained on duty in the hospital grounds all night, in the hope that West would be found. And now, when he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, the colonel had the brass to tell him that “they” – whoever
“they” were – believed that the situation was being handled badly.
‘We could have done more,’ Heddingham barked.
‘We could have caught the man.’
‘He’s obviously a professional. Your men searched that building from top to bottom yesterday… ’
‘While he was inside, and we missed him,’
Heddingham interrupted.
‘You’re being too hard on yourself, sir,’ Major Simmonds consoled clumsily. ‘No officer could have done more.’
‘If we’d put in more effort, that paramedic might still be alive.’
‘And so might Mr Watson,’ the superintendent murmured. ‘But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in twenty
‘Where did you get the clothes?’
‘They came with the car. If you get back inside, I’ll organise some food.’
She picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘I have to go behind the bushes.’
As she walked away, he called out, ‘That’s far enough.’
When she returned she climbed into the back and pulled the second blanket over her lap. He lifted a box of food into the front passenger seat and pressed down the central locking device before switching on the ignition to keep the heater running.
‘What do you want to eat?’
‘I’m too thirsty to think of food,’ she replied.
‘There’s wine if you don’t mind smashing the top off the bottle, beer, brandy, and this.’ He offered her the remaining can of soft drink he’d purloined from the hospital locker-room. She made a face.
‘Try a beer.’ He opened a can and handed it to her.
She drank half of it in one thirsty swallow, only to regret her greed when the alcohol hit her empty stomach and her head began to swim.
‘Do you have bread?’
‘Pumpernickel or French baguette?’
‘Baguette,’ she saw the cheese and added, ‘Brie.’
Forgetting the gun, she reached over his shoulder into the box and lifted out a full silver moon of her favourite cheese. ‘Have you a knife?’
‘To cut the cheese or stab me?’ he enquired dryly.
‘Sorry, stupid question.’ She unwrapped the Brie and broke off a segment.
Mouth full of garlic sausage and pumpernickel he leaned against the dashboard and watched her.
She finished a second lump of cheese, and snapped off a piece of sausage. ‘Can I have another beer?’ she asked after emptying her first can. He handed her one.
‘We’re going to Brecon.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘It’s the logical place to start.’
‘And if you don’t like what you find there?’
He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I need to find out who I am.’
‘Then you really have lost your memory?’
‘Did you ever doubt it?’
‘Yes.’ She took the remains of the French loaf from the box. ‘What do you intend to do with me when you get there?’
He looked her in the eye. ‘You’ll find out – when we get there.’
CHAPTER SIX
Simmonds watched Lieutenant-Colonel Heddingham replace the telephone receiver. ‘Have they set up a Cabinet Office briefing room?’
‘An hour ago.’ Heddingham snapped.
‘That’s routine in a case like this,’ Simmonds sympathized.
‘It means they believe we’re incompetent,’
Heddingham pronounced flatly.
‘I defy anyone to have done more.’ The police superintendent took Heddingham’s comments as personal criticism. He’d allowed the army officers to take control of the Command Cell he’d set up in his police station to oversee “Operation West”. He’d remained on duty in the hospital grounds all night, in the hope that West would be found. And now, when he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, the colonel had the brass to tell him that “they” – whoever
“they” were – believed that the situation was being handled badly.
‘We could have done more,’ Heddingham barked.
‘We could have caught the man.’
‘He’s obviously a professional. Your men searched that building from top to bottom yesterday… ’
‘While he was inside, and we missed him,’
Heddingham interrupted.
‘You’re being too hard on yourself, sir,’ Major Simmonds consoled clumsily. ‘No officer could have done more.’
‘If we’d put in more effort, that paramedic might still be alive.’
‘And so might Mr Watson,’ the superintendent murmured. ‘But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in twenty
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