There was little else to do but open it. Inside was a folded sheet of writing paper, off-white, generic. The sort of thing you could buy from a high street stationers were you one of the few people who could be bothered to write a letter anymore.
He unfolded it. Written across the sheet in plain capitals was the message:
‘AUGUST SHINING WILL GET YOU KILLED. HE IS NOT TO BE TRUSTED. LEARN THE TRUTH OUTSIDE EUSTON STATION. 20.45.’
Toby folded the letter back up and replaced it in the envelope. He dug a freezer bag from one of the kitchen drawers, placed the note inside it and put it in his pocket. He looked at the clock on the microwave. Half-past six. Just over a couple of hours until his anonymous visitor wished to meet him. His evening now had purpose.
c) Hampstead Heath, London
Shining took his time going up Parliament Hill, not because he was unfit but because he liked to savour it. He strolled, he allowed himself a moment to watch the view change, watch London slowly reveal itself as he climbed higher. He nodded at the dog walkers and the romantic couples, stepped aside as the joggers cut past him, even took the time to sit on a bench and sip his way through a takeaway coffee. He was, for all the world, a man with time on his hands spending it in a calm and pleasant way. Nobody even noticed as he reached beneath the seat of the bench and ran his fingers along one of the struts, feeling his way towards the packet he knew would be there. Nobody, that is, except the old woman who sat down next to him, a colourful confection of brightly coloured wool and a startling pink cap.
‘It’s not there August, darling,’ she said. ‘I got bored hanging around so it gave me something to do.’ She handed him the packet. It was a narrow manila envelope containing a couple of sheets of paper. The envelope was unsealed.
‘You opened it?’
‘Of course I opened it, I could hardly pass the time just looking at the envelope could I? It’s not very interesting I’m afraid, just a lot of nonsense about portents. You know what he’s like.’
‘An incredibly gifted seer?’
‘A tubby old astrologist who should stick to writing waffle for local newspapers: “Darkness ascending through the House of Mercury bodes ill for financial matters in the East.” He laughs at you, I’m sure of it.’
Shining stared at the old woman and sighed. ‘You really shouldn’t stick your nose in, April, dear. I’d hate to regard you as a security risk.’
‘A security risk?’ she laughed, pulling a cigarette case from out of the pocket of her heavy woollen jacket. ‘Me? Darling boy, you know I’m only after your best interests – what else are big sisters for?’
‘Fading into dementia and leaving their brothers to get on with their job?’
‘Cheeky bugger. My mind’s as sharp as it ever was.’ She looked around, sneering at a pair of cyclists as they rode past. ‘This place has gone to the dogs, no character anymore. It’s all Lycra and kites. Once upon a time you could walk up here and rest assured that everyone you saw was about important business, spies doing dead letter drops, cabinet ministers shuffling off into the bushes to get their bottoms filled.’
‘I’m fairly sure that’s still a constant.’
‘Nonsense, it’s all boy bands and soap stars these days.’ She patted him on the arm. ‘There’s not an inch of quality cock left in this city.’
‘As if you’d know.’
‘True. My groin withers into memory, a place of youthful dreams now barren and lost.’
‘Can we please change the subject?’
‘With pleasure. Got anything interesting on?’
‘As if I’d tell you.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. I’d only hear it from someone else anyway. Nobody minds their tongue around silly old biddies like me – we might as well be invisible.’
‘Nobody who has met you would agree with that.’
She smiled. ‘You’re so lovely. What’s this I hear about a new boy in the office?’
Shining sighed. ‘How could you possibly know about that already?’
It was always a source of exasperation. Having spent most of her life working for one governmental department or another, April had got to the position where she had everyone’s ear.
‘I told you, darling, I know everything. What’s he like?’
‘You tell me, if you’re so well-informed.’
‘Well, his record’s a bit patchy. Some fuss in the Middle East, suggestions of incompetence.’
‘He’s not incompetent.’
She laughed. ‘Oh you’re such a sweetie. He’s only been with you five minutes and you’re fighting his corner. I do love a man of honour. And your chap was also flagged up as suffering from shell shock.’
‘PTSD, dear. Nobody says shell shock anymore.’
‘Don’t pick hairs, darling. My point is: the poor boy’s broken.’
‘Aren’t we all in one way or another? We are all sticks, whittled away by our experiences, some of us just get whittled more than others. He’s stronger than you think.’
‘As ever, I’ll trust your judgement. I’ll pop in and see you both tomorrow.’
‘Please don’t. I’d rather you didn’t scare him off.’
‘Scare him? Me? If he can stomach your ghosts and ghoulies, he can certainly tolerate a harmless old lady.’
‘No doubt, but can he tolerate you?’
‘I don’t know why I love you.’
‘It’s certainly not through encouragement on my part.’
They sat in silence for a few moments, April Shining sending delicate clouds of menthol cigarette smoke out onto the breeze. ‘Things feel…’ she paused, ‘important at the moment.’
‘Don’t they always?’
‘No, they don’t. You know what I mean. Years of messing around, chasing concepts and filling your days with trivial concerns…’
‘My work is important.’
‘Oh darling, I know that, but when was the last time something truly catastrophic happened? How long has it been since you held the world in your hands?’
Shining sighed. ‘A few years.’
‘And now you have someone new.’ She folded her arm around his. ‘It’s not a moment too soon if you ask me. The air’s electric, the wind’s changing. You’re about to be a very busy boy.’
d) Euston Station, London
Toby made a point of being early. He was less interested in the person who had left the note seeing him than he was in seeing them. It might be his best hope of staying ahead of the game.
He had raided his wardrobe for clothing that was neither conspicuous nor something he would frequently wear. He knew disguise wasn’t a matter of false beards and make-up, but rather a step away from the norm. So, he put aside his regular clothes, the work suits and the favoured shirts. He picked out a stained hoodie that he’d used for painting, a pair of tracksuit bottoms (bought for the gym but never actually used) and a baseball cap he’d picked up in Dubai, desperate to cover a sunburned head. He knew he wouldn’t bear close inspection but, if he kept his head low, his walk casual, he would blend in.
On the off chance that whoever had sent the note was sufficiently organised to have someone watching his front door – certainly what he would have done – Toby went out the back way, past the large rubbish dumpsters and through the rear gate. It was supposed to be kept locked at all times, but it was a rare day the caretaker remembered his keys. Most residents complained about it; Toby had just filed it away as useful.