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Running. Cauterized trachea as his breath came hard. Legs heavy and
painful as if molten lead were flowing through the muscles. His image of
the hilltop ringed by throbbing red, coming no closer, slipping
away...No! Can't stop now. But the ground so uneven, grass clutching at
my stumbling feet, trapped shoe. No, it won't move! I can't run anymore.
No, don't leave me! It's not FAAAAA...
"...aaaiir. Ugh. Oh bloody hell. Not another one." Alf looked around the
train in a daze. He must have been screaming in his sleep since he
seemed to have a bit of an audience. He smiled uncertainly.
"It's alright. Just a nightmare. Must have been the eggs." Some of his
observers had already turned away, embarassed, when he had woken. Most
of the rest, seemingly satisfied with this explanation, turned back to
their books or to staring out of the window.
But one man held his eye for a few seconds more. Old bloke - mid sixties
at a guess - hook nose, gaunt face, white hair swept back from his
forehead in geriatric mimicry of Michael Heseltine, and the most intense
gaze. Funny, but Alf never worked out what colour his eyes were. Always
seemed to shift in hue, like someone tilting a CD.
The man rose and came over to Alf. People in the aisle didn't so much
seem to move out of his way as just decide to be somewhere else for a
moment. The young lady beside Alf chose that instant to get a cup of
coffee, and the old man sat in her place.
"You have the look of a hunted man, Mr du Plex."
The voice sent a shiver down Alf's spine as if his skeleton was
vibrating in sympathy. And how had the old bloke known his name?
"Do not ask how I know your name - it is enough that I do. I know a
great deal more about you than possibly you know yourself. You are a
very important man, Mr du Plex. For the moment, that is all the
information you require. Look after yourself, and I shall see you next
in Edinburgh. "
The man stopped for a moment, his curiously resonant voice seeming to
linger like a spurned pet. He seemed to look far beyond Alf into the
distance, and then he spoke again.
"I should leave this train at the next stop if I were you. The police
will be joining from Birmingham. and we wouldn't want them finding you
would we? Ah, here is that young lady you were trying to chat up
earlier." Alf looked round to see the girl (what was her name? Jackie?)
forcing her way through the crush carrying two cups of coffee.
"I'm glad you managed to keep my seat. It wouldn't do if I brought you
this coffee and had nowhere to sit down with it."
"Well actually, it wasn't me. It was ... oh."
But the man had gone.
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