Part 9 (1/2)
Someone was talking to Jayce outside the college. Had the police had found him already? But the man's silhouette was a little familiar one of the men from Khan's shop. Maybe he was only a shop a.s.sistant; but the look that swivelled in Jayce's direction was dark and cold, then the man was stalking away, not looking back.
”Do me a favour, man.” Jayce's hand trembled, holding out a pen. ”Write this, will ya?”
The pen was a felt-tip, chewed and sticky. Jayce pulled up his sleeve and offered the pale inside of his forearm.
”Write, uh...” Jayce's eyes jiggled, dancing to ghost music. ”Arches, Wandsworth, 9 o'clock Thursday.”
A discarded sweet wrapper lay curled on the ground, containing no trace of green powder.
”Uh, how do you spell Wandsworth?”
”s.h.i.+t, man. How it sounds.”
Richard wrote: ARCHES WONZWORTH 9, ARCHES WONZWORTH 9, thought for a moment, then added: thought for a moment, then added: PM THURSDAY. PM THURSDAY.
”Great.” Jayce pushed down his sleeve. ”Yeah. Wow. Oh, wow.”
He tilted his head to one side, eyes like slits.
”What?” Richard looked round. ”What is it?””That light, man.” Jayce pointed at a streetlamp. ”You gotta squeeze your eyes nearly shut. See the pattern? In like your eyelashes?”
”Diffraction.”
”Say what? You're mad in the head, pal.”
But when Richard started to walk on, Jayce followed, his gait bouncing. Chemical springs in his heels.
”So where we going, man?”
”You tell me,” said Richard.
Adrenalised fear was seeping away from him, his body staring to slump in on itself. The surrounding night was chill.
”Let's go up the West End. See what happens, right?”
”I was thinking of somewhere to sleep.” Standing upright was becoming hard.
”Man, you want to sleep in the dark? Around here?”
A spurt of fear came back, a short-lived boost of energy. But if he didn't find someplace, he would end up sliding down and closing his eyes, fatigued, with no other options.
”I know a doorway.” Jayce flicked his fingers at Richard's sleeve. ”Come on.”
”A doorway?”
”Better than it sounds. And look.” Jayce pointed to a wheelie-bin in front of a house, filled with black bags for tomorrow's collection. ”Take that.”
”The bin?”
”That cardboard box beside it.”
”Oh, right.”
Insulation. Thermal insulation using cardboard.
Hey, Ms Simms. Physics can save your life.
”Tip the rubbish out, you moron. Quietly.”
”Uh. Right.” He did what he was told.
There was a doorway in shadow, part of some old building, not a house. Tucked in the corner of a cold porch, he was invisible from the road. Opposite him, Jayce spread his blanket on concrete.
”You really going to sleep, man?”
”Yeah.” Invisible fingers were pus.h.i.+ng down on Richard's eyelids. ”Sorry.”
”I'll keep watch, like. You're safe.”
His chin dipped. It was too cold to sleep, but Richard slipped into a grey dream regardless, s.h.i.+vering but no longer fully conscious, while some minutes pa.s.sed... until he trembled into wakefulness, and saw the dark green edge to the night sky. This was pre-dawn, and hours had slipped by, while Jayce must have gone, taking his blanket, for the porch was empty.
Richard slipped back into pseudo-sleep, trying to dream of a warm world and luxury, where enemies did not lurk in the night, and reality was no longer alien and hard.
[ NINE ].
Josh clapped and cheered along with the others.
”Come on, Paula. You can do it!”She adjusted her hair, tugged at the jacket of her trouser suit, then settled her stance. Not bad, on the basis of ten minutes' instruction. The cheering filled the corporate cla.s.sroom: twenty-two delegates and four instructors, including Josh, while Vikram and Pete held the smooth plastic ”board” ready for breaking. A vertical hair's-breadth line bisected the plastic, almost invisible, for it was designed to split apart under the same force as one-inch pine, all very traditional.
Paula twisted and thrust out her palm ”Ha!”
while the two halves clunked apart and fell as the guys let go.
”Yes!”
”Way to go, Paula!”