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Never mind。 Get on with it。
I emerged from the cubicle and tried my cheek again with another paper towel； making the cut paler； fading it into skin colour。
Not too bad。
The face below the unfamiliar woollen hat looked strained。 Hardly a surprise。
I went out through the ice…cream shop and walked along the street。 The Topline Foods van rolled past quite slowly； driven by one of the blue guards； who was intently scanning the other side of the road。 That bodyguard meant； I thought； that Yorkshire himself might be out looking for me in a car I couldn't recognise。
Perhaps all I had to do was go up to some sensible…looking motorist and say； 'Excuse me； some people are trying to kill me。 Please will you drive me to the police station？' And then； 'Who are these people？'
'The managing director of Topline Foods； and Ellis Quint。' 'Oh yes？？ And you are 。。。？？'
I did go as far as asking someone the way to the police station…'Round there； straight on； turn left…about a mile'…and for want of anything better I started walking that way； but what I came to first was a bus shelter with several people standing in a queue； waiting。 I added myself to the patient half dozen and stood with my back to the road； and a woman with two children soon came up behind me； hiding me well。
Five long minutes later my Mercedes pulled up on the far side of the road with a white Rolls Royce behind it。 Ellis stepped out of my car and Yorkshire out of the Rolls。 They conferred together； furiously stabbing the air； pointing up and down the street while I bent my head down to the children and prayed to remain unspotted。
The bus came while the cars were still there。
Four people got off。 The waiting queue； me included； surged on。 I resisted the temptation to look out of the window until the bus was travelling again； and then saw with relief that the two men were still talking。
I had no idea where the bus was going。
Who cared？ Distance was all I needed。 I'd paid to go to the end of the line； wherever that was。
Peaceful Frodsham in Cheshire； sometime Saturday； people going shopping in the afternoon。 I felt disconnected from that sort of life； and I didn't know what the time was； as the elastic metal bracelet watch I normally wore on my left wrist had e off in Yorkshire's office and was still there； I supposed。
The bus slowly filled at subsequent stops。 Shopping baskets。 Chatter。 Where was I going？
The end of the line proved to be the railway station in Runcorn； halfway to Liverpool； going north when I needed to go south。
I got off the bus and went to the station。 There was no Mercedes； no Rolls Royce； no Topline Foods van in sight； which didn't mean they wouldn't think of buses and trains eventually。 Runcorn railway station didn't feel safe。 There was a train to Liverpool due in four minutes； I learned； so I bought a ticket and caught it。
The feeling of unreality continued； also the familiar aversion to asking for help from the local police。 They didn't approve of outside investigators。 If I ever got into messes； besides； I considered it my own responsibility to get myself out。 Norman Pictons were rare。 In Liverpool； moreover； I was probably counted a local boy who'd been disloyal to his 'roots'。
At Liverpool station I read the well…displayed timetable for trains going south。
An express to London； I thought； then backtrack to Reading and get a taxi to Shelley Green； Archie Kirk's house。
No express for hours。 What else； then？
The incredible words took a time to penetrate： Liverpool to Bournemouth； departing at 3。10 pm。 A slow train； meandering southwards across England； right down to the Channel； with many stops on the way 。。。 and one of the stops was Reading。
I sprinted； using the last shreds of strength。 It was already； according to the big station clock； ticking away at 3。07。 Whistles were blowing when I stumbled into the last carriage in the long train。 A guard helped thrust me in and close the door。 The wheels rolled。 I had no ticket and little breath； but a marvellous feeling of escape。 That feeling lasted only until the first of the many stops； which I discovered with horror to be Runcorn。
Square one： where I'd started。 All fear came flooding back。 I sat stiff and immobile； as if movement itself would give me away。
Nothing happened。 The train quietly rolled onwards。 Out on the platform a blue…clad Topline Foods security guard was speaking into a hand…held telephone and shaking his head。
Crewe； Stafford； Wolverhampton； Birmingham； Coventry； Leamington Spa； Banbury； Oxford； Didcot； Reading。
It took four hours。 Slowly； in that time； the screwed…tight wires of tension slackened to manageable if not to ease。 At every stop； however illogical I might tell myself it was； dread resurfaced。 Oversize wrenches could kill when one wasn't looking 。。。 Don't be a fool； I thought。 I'd bought a ticket from the train conductor between Runcorn and Crewe； but every subsequent appearance of his dark uniform as he checked his customers bumped my heart muscles。
It grew dark。 The train clanked and swayed into realms of night。 Life felt suspended。
There were prosaically plenty of taxis at Reading。 I travelled safely to Shelley Green and rang Archie Kirk's bell。
He came himself to open the door。
'Hello；' I said。
He stood there staring； then said awkwardly； 'We'd almost given you up。' He led the way into his sitting…room。 'He's here；' he said。
There were four of them。 Davis Tatum； Norman Picton； Archie himself； and Charles。
I paused inside the doorway。 I had no idea what I looked like； but what I saw on their faces was shock。
'Sid；' Charles said； recovering first and standing up。 'Good。 Great。 e and sit down。'
The extent of his solicitude always measured the depth of his alarm。 He insisted I take his place in a fortable chair and himself perched on a hard one。 He asked Archie if he had any brandy and secured for me a half…tumblerful of a raw…tasting own…brand from a supermarket。
'Drink it；' he manded； holding out the glass。
'Charles 。。。'
'Drink it。 Talk after。'
I gave in； drank a couple of mouthfuls and put the glass on a table beside me。 He was a firm believer in the life…restoring properties of distilled wine and I'd proved him right oftener than enough。
I remembered that I still wore the soft stripey hat； and took it off； and its removal seemed to make my appearance more normal to them； and less disturbing。
'I went to Topline Foods；' I said。
I thought： I don't feel well； what's wrong with me？
'You've cut your face；' Norman Picton said。
I also ached more or less all over from the desperate exertions of the judo。 My head felt heavy and my hand was swollen and sore from Ellis's idea of entertainment。 On the bright side； I was alive and home； safe 。。。 and reaction was all very well but I was not at this point going to faint。
'Sid！' Charles said sharply； putting out a hand。
'Oh 。。。 yes。 Well； I went to Topline Foods。'
I drank some brandy。 The weak feeling of sickness abated a bit。 I shifted in my chair and took a grip on things。
Archie said； 'Take your time；' but sounded as if he didn't mean it。
I smile