temptation to take a taxi. She needed to take care of something else first. Looming in the distance was the London Eye, the city’s giant Ferris wheel.
Come on, think.
Across the bridge, and continuing on Westminster Bridge Road, Sarah turned left on Belvedere Road. Determined to enter the first phone booth she came across, she walked and walked, not letting up. In a business area near the Waterloo Bridge, she finally found one.
Picking up the handset, Sarah knew not to use her credit card this time.
“Good evening. I’d like to place a collect call. . . . My name? . . . Uh, Greg Saunders,” she said, sounding more like a question than an answer. But the operator completely ignored the feminine voice giving a man’s name, and asked her to wait.
Moments later Sarah could hear a phone ringing, and voices at the other end.
“Greg?”
“Natalie, it’s not Greg. It’s me, Sarah.”
“Sarah?” was the quite surprised response. Natalie, in all the years as her boss, had never heard coolheaded Sarah sounding so distressed.
“Yes, it’s me. I need to ask you a huge favor.”
Sarah explained to her boss and friend, hastily but clearly, and with the succinctness to be expected from a news professional, everything that had happened to her since she’d come back to London.
“You need to go to the police,” Natalie stammered, barely able to fully absorb the story she had just heard.
“No, Natalie, I can’t. I don’t trust anybody out here. I just need a favor. You don’t even have to leave your house. I’m begging you, Natalie. I don’t know who else to ask.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued while Natalie thought this over. Yes, they had always helped each other and, except for the occasional early-morning flare-ups on her part, Sarah was her friend. And one of the best reporters in the world-renowned news service that she headed.
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Thanks, Natalie.”
“Don’t thank me. Tell me what you want before I change my mind.”
“I just need you to tell me where King William IV Square is.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get it for you right now. You want me to call you back, or can you stay on the line?”
“Whichever you prefer. You’re paying for the call.”
“Right. Then don’t hang up.” Sarah heard a chair being dragged. Natalie was now at the keyboard of her computer. “King William IV Square,” she repeated, more to the keyboard than to Sarah.
“Yes.”
“Wait a second.” One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five seconds went by. “Do you really not know why these people are after you?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea.”
“Let’s see, be ready for this.” Her tone had changed from reporter’s curiosity to information operator’s signal. “Here it is. I mean, isn’t. Under the name King William IV, there are only the gardens in the Crystal Palace district. Ahhh, wait a minute, there’s also a street with that name. It’s between the Strand and Charing Cross Road—that must be it. There’s no King William IV Square.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You must be mistaken.”
“No, absolutely not. The person who gave me the name did say it would be impossible for me to have heard of that plaza before. But I just assumed it was because it was someplace really out of the way, not because it didn’t exist.”
“But it doesn’t exist. Let me do one more search.”
“It has to be there.”
“Well, if you want, you can ask a cop.”
“No time for jokes, Natalie.”
“Let me see. William IV. Born in 1765. King of the United Kingdom and of Hanover between 1830 and 1837. Son of George III, succeeded his older brother, George IV. Was the penultimate king of the House of Hanover. As king he was called ‘the Navigator.’ He reformed the electoral system, abolished slavery and child labor in the Empire. I’m starting to like this man.”
“Natalie, I don’t need a history lesson. Is there anything
Come on, think.
Across the bridge, and continuing on Westminster Bridge Road, Sarah turned left on Belvedere Road. Determined to enter the first phone booth she came across, she walked and walked, not letting up. In a business area near the Waterloo Bridge, she finally found one.
Picking up the handset, Sarah knew not to use her credit card this time.
“Good evening. I’d like to place a collect call. . . . My name? . . . Uh, Greg Saunders,” she said, sounding more like a question than an answer. But the operator completely ignored the feminine voice giving a man’s name, and asked her to wait.
Moments later Sarah could hear a phone ringing, and voices at the other end.
“Greg?”
“Natalie, it’s not Greg. It’s me, Sarah.”
“Sarah?” was the quite surprised response. Natalie, in all the years as her boss, had never heard coolheaded Sarah sounding so distressed.
“Yes, it’s me. I need to ask you a huge favor.”
Sarah explained to her boss and friend, hastily but clearly, and with the succinctness to be expected from a news professional, everything that had happened to her since she’d come back to London.
“You need to go to the police,” Natalie stammered, barely able to fully absorb the story she had just heard.
“No, Natalie, I can’t. I don’t trust anybody out here. I just need a favor. You don’t even have to leave your house. I’m begging you, Natalie. I don’t know who else to ask.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued while Natalie thought this over. Yes, they had always helped each other and, except for the occasional early-morning flare-ups on her part, Sarah was her friend. And one of the best reporters in the world-renowned news service that she headed.
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Thanks, Natalie.”
“Don’t thank me. Tell me what you want before I change my mind.”
“I just need you to tell me where King William IV Square is.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get it for you right now. You want me to call you back, or can you stay on the line?”
“Whichever you prefer. You’re paying for the call.”
“Right. Then don’t hang up.” Sarah heard a chair being dragged. Natalie was now at the keyboard of her computer. “King William IV Square,” she repeated, more to the keyboard than to Sarah.
“Yes.”
“Wait a second.” One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five seconds went by. “Do you really not know why these people are after you?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea.”
“Let’s see, be ready for this.” Her tone had changed from reporter’s curiosity to information operator’s signal. “Here it is. I mean, isn’t. Under the name King William IV, there are only the gardens in the Crystal Palace district. Ahhh, wait a minute, there’s also a street with that name. It’s between the Strand and Charing Cross Road—that must be it. There’s no King William IV Square.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You must be mistaken.”
“No, absolutely not. The person who gave me the name did say it would be impossible for me to have heard of that plaza before. But I just assumed it was because it was someplace really out of the way, not because it didn’t exist.”
“But it doesn’t exist. Let me do one more search.”
“It has to be there.”
“Well, if you want, you can ask a cop.”
“No time for jokes, Natalie.”
“Let me see. William IV. Born in 1765. King of the United Kingdom and of Hanover between 1830 and 1837. Son of George III, succeeded his older brother, George IV. Was the penultimate king of the House of Hanover. As king he was called ‘the Navigator.’ He reformed the electoral system, abolished slavery and child labor in the Empire. I’m starting to like this man.”
“Natalie, I don’t need a history lesson. Is there anything
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