“Why not?”
“Maybe you should go to the police.”
Scarlett had to admit that he had a point. Everyone knew that when a strange adult approached a kid outside school, it was time to dial 999. But she had already made up her mind. If she didn’t go to this restaurant, she might never find out who the man was or what he wanted.
“The Happy Garden,” she muttered. “What sort of name is that?”
“It’s a Chinese restaurant,” Aidan said.
“Oh yes,” she nodded. “I suppose it would be.” She thought for a moment. “Did the man say anything else?”
“Yes. He said that the two of you had met before. On Dulwich Grove, two years ago. He must have been talking about the accident…”
If Scarlett had had any doubts, that decided it. The man who had saved her, who hadn’t waited to be thanked, had been Chinese. It had to be the same person. But what was he doing back in her life?
“What time am I meant to be there?” she asked.
“Half past one.”
She looked at her watch. It was just after one o’clock. “We’re going to be early.”
“So you’re going?”
“I’ve got to, Aidan. I don’t think anything too bad can happen in the middle of a Chinese restaurant. And anyway, you’ll be with me.” She paused. “Won’t you?”
“Sure.” Aidan nodded. “I wouldn’t leave you on your own. Anyway, I can’t wait to find out what this is all about.”
They left the cinema the way they’d come, slipping quietly into the crowds in Leicester Square. It was unlikely that anyone had followed them all the way from Dulwich but Scarlett wasn’t taking any chances. They turned up an alleyway that led into Chinatown, an area that was packed with Chinese restaurants and supermarkets. From here, they crossed over Shaftesbury Avenue, heading for the address that Aidan had been given.
The afternoon was surprisingly warm. It was lunch-time, there were lots of people around. The smell of fried noodles hung in the air.
The explosion happened just as they were about to turn the corner into Wardour Street. They didn’t just hear it. They felt it too. The pavement actually shuddered under their feet and a gust of warm air punched into them, carrying with it a cloud of dust and soot. If they had been just ten seconds earlier, they might have been hit by the full impact. A bomb had gone off. A large one. It had happened somewhere near.
“Stop…!” Aidan began.
He was too late. Scarlett had already run forward and turned the corner.
A scene of devastation greeted her on the other side. A building about half-way up the road had been blown to pieces. It was as if someone had punched a giant fist into it. There was glass and debris all over the pavement, and tongues of flame were licking out of the shattered brickwork. A taxi must have been passing at the moment the bomb went off. All its windows were broken and the driver had tumbled out, blind, blood pouring down his face. A woman was standing nearby, screaming and screaming, her clothes in tatters, covered in blood and broken glass. There was smoke everywhere but Scarlett could make out several bodies, lying still, some of them in rags. She had seen images like this on TV, in Baghdad and Jerusalem. But this was Soho, the centre of London. And she knew that she’d almost been part of it. It might have been Aidan and her, lying in the rubble.
Aidan had caught up with her. “We should go,” he said.
“But the restaurant…”
“That is the restaurant.”
Scarlett couldn’t move. She stared at the gaping hole, the smoke billowing out, the smashed furniture and the bodies. It was a restaurant. He was right.
“Come on…!” Aidan pleaded.
Scarlett could already hear the sirens of the police cars and ambulances moving in from some other part of the city. It was amazing how quickly they had been alerted. She allowed Aidan to lead her away. She didn’t want to be found there. Part of her even wondered if she might somehow have been to blame.
It was the first story on the news that night. A restaurant called The Happy Garden had been the target of a lethal attack. Three people had been killed and a dozen more injured by a bomb that had been concealed under one of the tables. According to the police, this wasn’t a terrorist incident. They put the blame on Chinese gangs which had been operating in the West End.
“Police today are speculating that the attack is the result of rising tension within the Chinese community,” the newscaster said.
Scarlett watched the broadcast with Mrs Murdoch. The housekeeper was knitting. “Weren’t you in Soho today, Scarlett?” she asked.
“No,” Scarlett lied. “I was on the other side of the town. I was nowhere near.”
“This is the most serious attack so far,” the report went on. “It follows other incidents involving gangs in Peckham and Mile End. Any witnesses are urged to come forward and Scotland Yard has set up a special phone line for anyone with any information that might help.”
Scarlett texted Aidan that night before she went to bed and he texted back. They both agreed that it was just a coincidence. Despite what they had thought earlier, it would be absurd to suggest that a restaurant in the middle of London had been blown up just to stop them meeting someone there.
But as she turned out the lights and tried to get to sleep, Scarlett knew that it wasn’t. The newscaster had been lying. The police were lying. There were no gangs… just an enemy who was still playing with her and who wouldn’t stop until she was completely in their control.
MATT’S DIARY (2)
Sunday
A bomb has gone off in London. I’ve just been watching it on the television news and I wonder if it might have something to do with Scarlett. Richard thinks it’s unlikely. According to the reports, the bomb had been hidden in a restaurant in Chinatown. It was something to do with Chinese gang warfare. Three people have been killed.
I saw the images on the big plasma screen TV in my hotel room. Dead people, ambulances, screaming relatives, smoke and broken glass… it was hard to believe that it was all happening in the middle of Soho. You just don’t expect it there. It made me feel even further away than I actually was.
Miami. I’ve never been here before and I certainly never dreamed that I’d wind up in a five-star hotel overlooking the beach, surrounded by Cadillacs, Cuban music and palm trees. The Nexus has certainly put us up in style while we wait for my new passport to arrive. The only trouble is, it’s taking longer than we had hoped. We’re now booked onto a flight leaving on Monday evening and we’ll have to kick our heels until then. Scarlett will just have to manage without us for a couple more days. We’ll be with her soon enough.
It feels strange, being back in a big city after spending so much time in a backwater like Nazca. Miami is full of rich people and expensive houses. It’s too cold to swim at this time of the year, but a lot of life still seems to be happening in the street. We didn’t do much today. I bought myself some new clothes, replacing the stuff that got lost in the fire. We walked. And tonight we ate on Ocean Drive, a long strip of fancy cafes and bars with bright pink neon lights, cocktails and live bands. It was good to be able to enjoy ourselves, sitting there, watching the crowds go past.
Nobody noticed us. For a few hours we could pretend we were normal .
Monday afternoon
This morning, the passport finally arrived, delivered in a brown, sealed envelope by a motorbike rider who didn’t say a word. Terrible photograph. The Nexus have sent Jamie a new passport too, and they’ve decided that we should both travel under false names, for extra security. So now I’m Martin Hopkins. He is Nicholas Helsey. Richard is going to stay as himself but then, as far as we know, nobody is trying to kill him.
We have economy tickets. The Nexus could have flown us first class but they didn’t want us to stand out.