From the sign in the entrance, he discovered that this particular truck stop was just outside Watford. That meant he was a short train ride from Euston, and central London.
He phoned Robert’s number, but got voicemail. Next, he tried Michelle’s, but that also went straight to her answering service.
From the information board he learnt that there was a bus stop just outside the truck stop which would take him to Watford station, and fifteen minutes later he was on the bus. He’d already decided that keeping the book on him was too dangerous. He’d nearly lost it to Andy. If he was grabbed by anyone, they’d simply take it off him, just as Andy had been going to do. He’d have to hide it somewhere, but where? Not at his flat, that would be too obvious. Not at Robert’s, for the same reason. It had to be somewhere anonymous. He decided he’d leave it at the Left Luggage office at Euston.
When he got to Watford station, he went into a shop and bought a small rucksack and a cheap casual jacket. He went to the station toilets, unstrapped the plastic bag containing the book from his stomach, wrapped it inside the casual jacket, then put them both in the rucksack.
He caught the train to Euston, and once there went straight to the Left Luggage office on the concourse and handed in the rucksack. He felt a mixture of relief and trepidation as he walked away; relief that the book was no longer on him and liable to be snatched, but fearful because the book was now semi-exposed.
But then, he reflected, he’d been very careful to make sure he hadn’t been followed from Watford. And, even after he put the rucksack into the Left Luggage office, he’d hung around for ten minutes, watching the office in case anyone tried to claim the rucksack. No one did.
Jake went out of the station and tried Robert again. This time, he answered.
‘Jake! Where are you?’
‘Back in London. Where are you?’
‘I’m at the car hire company, returning the car. Then I’m going home to sort Lizzie out.’
‘OK. I’ll go home first to get freshened up, then I’ll see you at your place,’ said Jake.
‘What about the thing?’ asked Robert.
‘It’s safe,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’
Jake felt uneasy as he left Finsbury Park station and headed towards his block of flats. For once he’d taken the tube rather than the bus. The whole time he had a sense of being watched. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. If anyone had been following you, you’d have noticed them on the tube train. But would he have? He’d read somewhere that spies worked in teams when following someone to avoid being spotted. So, just in case he was being tracked, he made sure to stop every now and then and looked around, seeing if any of the people behind him, or on the other side of the road, looked familiar.
He made it back to his small block of flats without trouble, but as he turned the corner of his street he saw something that sent a jolt of fear through him, and made him duck back immediately. Andy’s car was there, parked in the street near his flats.
He’s going to kill me, thought Jake. He’s going to kill me because of what I did to his dog. And, before he does, who knows what he’s going to do to me to find out where the book is.
Carefully, Jake peered out from behind the corner building towards Andy’s car. Was Andy inside it? Or was he lurking, hiding in a doorway somewhere, ready to pounce as soon as Jake appeared? He strained his eyes. The car seemed to be empty, but as he looked he saw a movement inside by the driver’s headrest. Yes, Andy was inside the car. He guessed Andy’s attention was fully focused on the entrance to his block of flats.
Jake turned and headed back the way he’d come, towards Finsbury Park station. He could phone Robert and get him to come over and deal with Andy, but Jake didn’t want to hang around any longer than was necessary. As Jake walked, he dialled Robert’s number on his phone. There was no answer, just voicemail. Jake assumed Robert was still sorting out the damage to his van, Lizzie.
It was a long way to go, all the way from Finsbury Park to Robert’s house at Baron’s Court, and Jake considered other options: contacting Michelle and seeking help from her; or maybe even phoning the police and accusing Andy of stalking him. But Michelle only wanted the book to publicise it; and Andy would just claim he was waiting for a friend. No, the only safe place Jake could think of right at this moment was Robert’s house.
When Jake arrived at Robert’s neat terraced house, the old van was still parked on the tiny forecourt, its four tyres still flat. So Robert hadn’t managed to get the damage repaired yet. Jake went to the door and rang the bell.