But not to the station. That was the first place they’d look for me. Instead, I made my way up towards Holborn. If I wanted to lose myself amongst thousands of people, I’d be more likely to find them in the centre of town, and anywhere had to be safer than Farringdon. I was annoyed now that I had dressed in jeans and a jersey. If only I’d put on a hoodie or a baseball cap; anything to cover my head. It’s fortunate that writers are very rarely invited on television and it had been at least a year since my last appearance. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared at the pavement, hoping that nobody would recognise me.
I’d walked for several minutes before I began to ask myself what I was doing. Where did I plan to spend the night? A hotel was out of the question. The front desk would report me before I’d even reached the room. I had various friends in the city, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve them, possibly getting them into trouble with the police – and anyway, Cara Grunshaw had been holding my wife’s mobile phone minutes ago. I wouldn’t have put it past her to make a note of all her contacts and then go round door to door. Could I go and stay with my sister in Suffolk? No – that meant train stations and trains.
I’d just reached Chancery Lane when it hit me. I needed somewhere to hide out – a safe house – and there was only one that might open its door to me. Without a second thought, I headed down towards the river, backtracking to Blackfriars Bridge. That was where I felt most exposed, above the water and out in the open, with nobody else on the pavement and dozens of cars speeding past. I could see the lights of Doggett’s pub ahead of me. That marked my destination. I quickened my pace, wanting to get this over with. The only question was – would Hawthorne let me in?
He was intensely private. I had only ever been into his flat four or five times throughout my time with him and his hospitality hadn’t extended much further than a KitKat in the kitchen … although on one occasion he’d offered me a rum and Coke. I didn’t even know if he had a spare room. Was it possible that Cara Grunshaw knew where he lived? It was unlikely. Hawthorne would never have given her his address and he didn’t own the flat; it belonged to someone overseas. He wasn’t paying any rent. There would be no record of his name … not on the deeds, perhaps not even on the utility bills. The more I thought about it, the more River Court seemed to be the safest house in London. I was still nervous. Hawthorne hadn’t exactly been championing my innocence since this began, but surely he wouldn’t turn me away in the night.
I reached the front door and pressed the bell. There was no answer and I was beginning to think that he might be out or asleep or simply refusing to answer, but then, distant and metallic, I heard his voice coming out of the speaker. ‘Tony!’ I hadn’t needed to speak. He’d seen me on the video system. He didn’t sound surprised.
I pressed my face against the speaker, injecting as much urgency into my voice as I could muster. ‘I need to come in,’ I said. ‘Cara Grunshaw’s at my flat. Kevin texted me. They’ve got the DNA. They want to arrest me. I need somewhere to stay!’
There was a pause.
‘I’m sorry, Tony. But the answer’s no.’
My heart sank. I should have known that he wouldn’t let me in. At the same time, I realised I’d heard those exact words before and there was something about the way he expressed them, as if he was reminding me of something. And then I remembered. They were exactly the same words I’d used when I’d told him I wasn’t going to write any more books. The bastard! He was choosing this moment to have his revenge.
For once, I almost lost it. ‘Hawthorne, if you don’t allow me into this building, I swear to God I will never speak to you again and you can forget about Alderney. I’ll break our contract. I won’t write the third book. It’ll never happen.’
‘I thought you’d already started.’
‘I’ll tear it up.’
‘You sound like you’re in a bad mood.’
‘Of course I’m in a bad mood! I’m being hunted by the police. Let me in!’
There was another long silence. I wanted to scream. But then came the exhilarating buzz of the electric lock. I pushed and the door opened. I almost fell into the reception area. The lift arrived as I walked towards it and I wondered if Hawthorne had sent it down. I was grateful that there was nobody else around. Nobody had seen me enter. I dived into the lift and travelled alone to the twelfth floor.