We were right next to the Trenches by now. For a change it looked completely deserted-no winos, no bonfires, none of us picking through the rubbish dumped there in the night. It’s just a big demolition site, really, but since no one is in any hurry to build there, it’s become home to all sorts of people.
Detective Sergeant Michael Sussex stopped. He said, “We found a body in there last night.”
I said nothing. I couldn’t see the bit of wall the dead man had been sitting by, but I knew where it was.
“Yes,” he said, as if he was thinking about something else. “Stripped clean, he was. When it comes my turn I’d like to be somewhere no one can get their thieving hands on me.”
I was still watching his feet, and now even his boots looked as if they were thinking about something else. So I took off.
I broke clear of his hand. I dodged between two people passing by and hopped over the wire. Then I dropped down into the Trenches.
It was the last place I wanted to be, but it was the only place I could go.
I heard him come down behind me, and as I ran through the rubble I could feel his feet thudding on the ground. He was awfully fast for a big man.
“Stop!” he yelled, and I kept running. This way, that way, over the brickwork, round the rubbish tips, into cellars, up steps. And all the time I could hear his feet and his breath. I couldn’t get free of him.
I was getting tired when I saw the drain. I put on one more sprint and dived head first into it. It was the only thing I could think of to do. It was the only place he couldn’t come after me.
It was the only place I couldn’t get out of.
I know about the drain. I’ve been in there before to get out of the wind, but it doesn’t go anywhere. There is a bend about ten yards from the opening, and after that it’s very wet and all stopped up with earth.
Anyway, like it or not, I dived straight in and crawled down. There wasn’t much room even for me. I had to get all the way to the bend before I could turn round.
It was totally dark in the drain. There should have been a circle of light at the opening, but Detective Sergeant Michael Sussex had his head and shoulders wedged in it.
He said, “Don’t be a fool, Crystal. Come out of there!” His voice boomed.
“Look, I only want a chat,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He wasn’t going to hurt me as long as I stayed in the drain and he stayed out of it.
“Come and get me,” I said. I would have felt quite cheerful if it hadn’t been so dark and wet.
“I don’t know what you think you’re up to, Crystal,” he said, “But you’re in a lot of trouble. I can help you.”
I nearly laughed. “I don’t know any Crystals,” I said. “How can you help me?”
“You’ve got enemies,” he said. “The bloke who died had the same enemies. You took something off him and now they’re looking for you. They’re rough people, Crystal, and you need my help.”
“I don’t know any dead blokes,” I said. “I didn’t take anything. What am I supposed to have nicked?”
“You’re wasting my time,” he said.
“All right,” I said. “Then I’ll go.” There wasn’t anywhere to go, but I didn’t think he’d know that.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere till you’ve heard what I have to say.” He fell silent. It was what I always thought. You tell them things. They’d rather eat worms before they tell you something back.
After a bit he said, “You still there?”
“I’m still here,” I said. “But not for long. I’m getting wet.”
“All right,” he said. “You won’t understand this but I’ll tell you anyway. The dead bloke was a systems analyst.”
“What’s one of them?” I asked.
“He was a computer expert.” Detective Sergeant Michael Sussex sighed. I could hear it from my end of the drain, Sound travels in a drain.
“He wrote programs for computers. He debugged programs. But most of all he wrote safe programs.” He sighed again.
“This doesn’t mean anything to you,” he said. “Why don’t you just come out of there like a good girl and give me the number.”
“What number?” I said. He was right. I didn’t understand. I was very confused. I thought I was in trouble because I’d taken the wallet. I tried to give it back but the woman wouldn’t take it. That was confusing. Whoever heard of anyone not taking money when it was offered.
“It doesn’t matter what number,” he said, sounding angry. “This bloke, this Philip Walker-Jones, he worked for some very funny types. These types don’t keep their dealings in books or ledgers anymore. Oh no. They stick them on computer tape, or discs where your average copper won’t know how to find them. It’s all bleeding high tech now.”
He sounded very fed up, and I couldn’t tell if it was because I was in a drain out of reach, or because he didn’t understand high tech any more than I did.
Just then I heard footsteps, and someone said, “What you doing down there, boss?”
“Taking a bleeding mudbath,” Detective Sergeant Michael Sussex said. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Did you lose her, then?” the other voice said.
“Course not. This is a new interview technique. Orders from on high: ‘Do it in a bleeding land-drain.’” He sounded so down I almost laughed.
“Are you still there?” he said.
“No,” I said. “Good-bye.” And I scrambled into the bend of the pipe and pulled my knees up to my chest so that I couldn’t be seen.
“Shit!” Detective Sergeant Michael Sussex said. “You’ve scared her off, you bleeding berk.”
I could hear him heaving and cursing, and then he said, “You’d better give me a pull out of here, Hibbard.”
There was some more heaving and cursing, and then I heard his voice from further off saying, “Where does this bleeding drain come out?”
“Buggered if I know, boss,” Hibbard said. “Could be the river for all I know.”
“Well, bleeding go and look,” Detective Sergeant Michael Sussex said. “And if you find her don’t lose her or I’ll have you back in uniform quicker than you can say ‘crystal balls.’”
“You sure you had the right one?” Hibbard said. He sounded reluctant to go tramping around the Trenches looking for the other end of a drain.
“You saw the description-there can’t be two like her.”
I didn’t like the way he said that, and I didn’t like the way he made fun of my name. I was freezing cold and soaked through, but I wasn’t going to come out for anyone with that sort of attitude.
So that’s where we stayed, him outside in the Trenches and me scrunched up at the end of the drain waiting for him to give up and go away. Sometimes he shone a torch in-to keep himself busy, I suppose. But I stayed stone-still and never made a sound.
Sometimes he paced up and down and muttered foul language to himself. He reminded me of our mum’s boyfriend when he thought I’d pinched something off him. We were all at it in those days. He’d pinch things out of our mum’s handbag and Dawn and me pinched things off him. We used to hide under the stairs, Dawn and me, while he raged around swearing he’d leather the lights out of us. Sometimes I’d hide from the truant officer too.
I’m used to hiding. All it takes is a bit of patience and a good breakfast in your belly. Don’t try it somewhere wet and cold, though-that calls for real talent and I wouldn’t recommend it to beginners.
At one stage Hibbard came back. He didn’t sound half so cocky now.
“She’ll be long gone,” he said. “I can’t find where this thing comes out”