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‘Yeah, I’m Cal’s uncle …’ I took a breath. ‘Could you please tell me what’s happened to him?’

‘Where are you, John?’

‘Why do you want to — ?’

‘Are you in Hey?’

‘Yes — ’

‘All right, listen. A man in his late twenties was attacked earlier this evening. He’s been brought into Hey General Hospital, but as yet we haven’t been able to confirm his identity. There was nothing in his pockets to tell us who he is, but this is his phone — one of three he was carrying — and he was found beside a black Ford Mondeo, so it’s very possible that he’s your nephew.’

‘He was attacked?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry, it looks as if he was quite badly beaten. We managed to stabilise his condition in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, and he’s undergoing emergency surgery right now, but I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you at the moment. If you could come in to Hey General to confirm his identity — ’

‘Was he wearing a hat?’

‘A hat was found nearby, yes.’

‘A trilby?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

I called four taxi companies before realising that I was never going to get one at short notice on a Saturday night, and I was just about to call Imogen to see if she’d give me a lift to the hospital, when my mind suddenly flashed back to the moment I was hanging from Ray Bishop’s windowsill, and he’d looked down at me, his eyes staring coldly, and said, ‘Hello, John.’

He knew who I was.

And if he knew who I was — and I was guessing that his brother must have told him — then he probably knew where I lived. And even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be too hard for him to find out …

I called Bridget’s mobile.

‘Hey, John,’ she answered. ‘I was just thinking about you.’

‘Where are you?’ I said.

‘At home … why? Are you all right? You sound a bit — ’

‘Listen, Bridget, this is really important. I want you to get out of the house as quickly as possible. I don’t have time to explain, but please … just trust me. You have to get out of the house right now. OK?’

She only hesitated for a moment. ‘OK … if you say so. Where shall I go?’

‘I’m at the old railway station, near the roundabout. Do you know where I mean?’

‘Yeah …’

‘Pick me up as soon as you can. I’ll explain everything then.’

‘All right …’

‘And ring me as soon as you’re out of the house and in your car. OK?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Go … now.’

She called me two minutes later.

‘Are you in your car?’ I said.

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you see anyone on your way out?’

‘No …’

‘Are you OK?’

‘Not really. I mean, this is pretty fucking scary, John.’

‘Yeah, sorry … but everything should be all right now. Just get going, don’t stop for anyone, and when you get to the roundabout, drive round it two or three times before you stop to pick me up. All right?’

‘Just drive round the roundabout?’

‘Yeah … I’ll be waiting for you.’

I moved from the bus stop and positioned myself at the south side of the roundabout, making sure that Bridget would see me when she arrived, and after about five minutes or so I saw a white Escort van with HEY PETS written on the side coming towards me. Bridget waved as she went past, and I nodded back, but I was more concerned with watching the road behind her. I was looking out for familiar cars — a silver-grey Renault, a green Nissan Almera, a white Toyota Yaris, Mick Bishop’s Honda Prelude — or familiar faces in unfamiliar cars, or cars that were just acting strangely … following Bridget around the roundabout, slowing down without any reason, stopping suddenly — but by the time Bridget had passed by me again, making her second circuit of the roundabout, I hadn’t seen anything untoward.

The next time she came round, I held up my hand and caught her eye, and she slowed down and pulled in beside me. As she leaned across and opened the passenger door, I saw that Walter was in the back of the van, sitting upright in a wicker basket. I quickly got in and closed the door, and Bridget immediately pulled away again.

‘Where are we going?’ she said.

‘The hospital.’

She looked at me. ‘What’s going on, John?’

As we drove across town to the hospital, I told Bridget everything. She didn’t interrupt me as I talked, she just drove the car, keeping her eyes on the road, and listened. There was a lot to tell, a lot of explaining to do, and by the time I’d finished we were almost at the hospital.

‘Is Cal going to be all right?’ Bridget asked.

‘I don’t know … the paramedic couldn’t tell me very much, just that he’d been badly beaten.’

‘Who do you think did it?’

‘Some of Mick Bishop’s people, probably. He must have had someone following us. Or maybe it was Ray Bishop … I don’t know.’

‘And you really think that Ray Bishop’s going to come after you?’

I nodded. ‘I know what he’s done, what he does. I know what he is. And he must know that I’m not going to keep quiet about it. Which means that if he doesn’t do something about me, or get someone to do it for him, he’s fucked. So, yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s coming after me.’

‘And you can’t call the police?’

‘I can’t trust the police. Mick Bishop owns too many of them. Whoever I call, even if it’s just the emergency number, there’s a good chance it’ll get back to Bishop … and if he finds me, he’ll kill me. Simple as that.’

‘Do you really think he’d go that far?’

‘What else can he do? I know that his brother’s a serial killer, and I know that he’s covered up for him on at least one occasion. The only way Mick Bishop can save his skin is by making sure that I don’t talk.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know …’

We were approaching the hospital now, and as Bridget slowed for the turning, I studied an information sign at the side of the road that gave the whereabouts of all the various departments and wards.

‘Do you know where they’re keeping him?’ Bridget asked.

I shook my head. ‘A amp; E, I suppose. I’d better ask at reception.’

She drove straight on, heading for the main hospital building, and we found a space in a car park close to the entrance.

‘It’s probably best if you stay in the car,’ I told her.

She looked at me. ‘Why?’

‘There’s a chance that Bishop might have someone waiting for me in the hospital, or he might even be in there himself. If you come in with me, they’ll get both of us. But if you stay here …’ I looked at her. ‘No one else knows about this, Bridget. Just you and me …’

She nodded. ‘What do you want me to do if you don’t come back?’

‘Give me an hour,’ I said, jotting down a phone number on a scrap of paper. ‘If I’m not back by then, call this number.’ I passed her the piece of paper. ‘Ask for Leon Mercer, but if he’s not there, you can talk to his daughter, Imogen. They’re both old friends of mine, and I’d trust them with my life. Just tell either of them exactly what’s happened, and they’ll know what to do.’

She nodded again. ‘Why don’t you just call them yourself, right now?’

‘The more people I involve, the more people I put at risk.’

‘You involved me.’

‘I know, I’m sorry … but I had no choice.’

‘You could have lied to me.’

‘Yeah …’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘No.’

She smiled at me, nodded her head, then leaned across and kissed me. ‘Be careful, John.’

I looked at her for a moment, more haunted than ever now by the memories of Stacy that she brought to my heart …

‘Keep the doors locked,’ I told her. ‘And call me if you need me.’

I got out of the car and went looking for Cal.