The Trespass(12)

A few cars swished past the University perimeter, windshield wipers flicking in the worsening drizzle. Great. As if it wasn’t cold and miserable enough already. He glanced at his watch; 17:15. Check-in time. “Campus one?” His earpiece responded immediately: “In position.” Potzner grunted. “Okay, stand by. Two?” A brief pause, then: “Likewise.” Satisfied, he settled back and prepared for a long wait. No sweat, though. Waiting was his speciality.





Dracup faced the intruder, heart pounding in his chest. Then he realized he was still holding the struggling cat in his arms. He launched the animal, a black tangle of extended claws, directly at the figure in the balaclava, then ducked and propelled himself back through the kitchen door, colliding with Sara as she entered the kitchen carrying a tray of plates and glasses. One word came out: Run. He caught her arm and dragged her through to the lounge into the hallway.

“What....”

“Just run.”

Dracup had the front door open and they skidded down the short drive, turning towards the University campus.

“Simon!”

Dracup glanced back. “Save your breath – and don’t run straight.”

They crossed the road at speed. As they drew level with the gatehouse a parked car flicked on its headlights. Dracup weaved parallel to the vehicle and made for the path by the lake.

“Which way?”

“To the right.” Dracup felt the first reaction of his lungs to the unaccustomed strain. His heart thudded and a burning finger moved across his abdomen. The path clung to the lakeside and they pounded down its length, darkness closing around them as the canopy of trees thickened above.

Dracup fumbled for his mobile and punched in a number.

“What are you doing?” Sara gasped as they approached a narrow wooden bridge.

“University security. Come on – this way.” His legs were leaden and it was all he could do to spit out a request when the security desk finally picked up.

“There’s an armed intruder in the campus – approaching from the North East entrance – crossing the lake...”

“What? Who is this?”

“Dracup – Anthropology.”

“Professor Dracup?”

“Yes – get a move on, for heaven’s sake.”

“Are you sure –”

“Of course I’m – look, just get out here now, would you?”

“On our way, sir. I’ll call the police.”

“Good idea...”

Dracup pocketed the phone and concentrated on his breathing. He could see the homely lights of the University building ahead.

Sara, slightly ahead, stumbled over a shape on the path. And screamed.

Dracup looked down as he passed the spot. A man was lying across the path, his face illuminated by moonlight. A neat hole had been punched in his forehead and his eyes stared sightlessly up at the stars. The crew cut and suit connected him inevitably with Potzner. “Keep going. Across the grass and head left.” He calculated their position and risked a glance behind. A figure emerged from the shadow of the trees by the bridge, stopped momentarily then caught sight of them as they hurried across the open space. Then two others came into view, running towards the bridge. The figure hesitated. Dracup heard a shout. Thank God. Security had taken him seriously.

“Simon! Come on.” Sara waited, hands on hips several metres ahead.

He pointed to the buildings. “Go left.” If he remembered correctly the Plant Sciences lab lay ahead, close to the Pepper Lane entrance. What he needed was in there – if there was time. He heard more shouting from the direction of the bridge. They turned into the Plant Sciences car park and entered the building by the automatic swing doors. The reception desk was empty – good.

“What are we doing in here? We’ll be trapped...” Sara caught his sleeve.

“I don’t think so,” Dracup said. “Security has probably done enough to keep him off our scent for a while. And I need to do this now.”

“Do what?”

“Come on.” He let Sara tag along as they passed the noticeboard, which was bare save for a large poster advertising Cornwall’s Eden Project. A glance through one of the lab windows revealed several white-coated technicians, doubtless absorbed in some green-fingered research project. He pushed into another corridor. It was along here somewhere. The floor reminded Dracup of hospitals; polished and antiseptic. In fact the whole building smelt sanitized, as if scrubbed hourly by an invisible team of cleaners. They came eventually to an office, deserted but for the hum of photocopiers and faxes. Dracup had the diary out and the photocopier lid open.

“You’re amazing,” Sara said. “I thought you left it at the house.”