Reginald Hill - The Woodcutter

He ignored the flattery and said. ‘If on the other hand the beak decides you’re a Crown Court job, then the question of bail arises. Medler would certainly oppose it.’

‘On what grounds?’ I demanded.

‘On the grounds that you are being investigated on more serious charges and that, with your wealth and international connections, there’s a serious risk you might abscond.’

This incensed me as much as anything I’d heard on this increasingly surreal day.

‘Abscond? Why would I? From what, for God’s sake? From these ludicrous kiddy-porn allegations? Give me twenty-four hours to have those properly investigated and they’ll vanish like snow off a dyke. And how the hell can Medler claim they’re more serious anyhow? You said I could get six months for punching his stupid face. That pop singer they sent down for having child abuse images on his computer only got three months, didn’t he?’

Toby said, ‘There have been developments. I’m far from sure exactly what’s going on, but they’ve raided your offices. Also we’re getting word that simultaneous raids are being carried out on your other premises worldwide, domestic and commercial.’

I think that was the moment when I first felt a chill of fear beneath the volcano of anger and indignation that had been simmering inside me since I met Medler coming up my stairs.

I sank heavily on to a chair.

‘Toby,’ I said, ‘what the fuck’s going on?’

Before he could answer, the door opened and Medler’s face appeared.

‘Nearly done, Mr Estover?’ he said.

‘Give us another minute,’ said Toby.

Medler glanced at me. What he saw in my face seemed to please him.

He gave me one of his smug smiles and said, ‘OK. One minute.’

It was the smile that provoked me to my next bit of stupidity. To me it seemed to say, Now you’re starting to realize we’ve really got you by the short and curlies!

I said to Toby, ‘Give me your mobile.’

He said, ‘Why?’

I said, ‘For fuck’s sake, just give it to me!’

In the Observer profile when I got my knighthood, they talked about what they called my in-your-face abrasive manner. When I read the draft, I rang up to request, politely I thought, that this phrase should be modified. After I’d been talking to the feature writer for a few minutes, he said, ‘Hang on. Something I’d like you to listen to.’ And he played me back a tape of what I’d just been saying.

When it finished, I said, ‘Jesus. Print your piece the way it is. And send me a copy of that tape.’

I made a genuine effort to tone down my manner after that, but it wasn’t easy. I paid my employees top dollar and I didn’t expect to have to repeat anything I said to them. That included solicitors, even if they happened to be friends.

I thrust my hand out towards Toby. It took him a second or two, but in the end he put his mobile into my palm.

I thumbed in 999.

When the operator asked, ‘Which service?’ I said, ‘Police.’

Toby’s eyes widened.

When he heard what I said next, it was a wonder they didn’t pop right out of their sockets.

‘The Supreme Council of the People’s Jihad has spoken. There is a bomb in West End Magistrate’s Court. In three and a half minutes all the infidel gathered there will be joining their accursed ancestors in the fires of Hell. Allahu Akbar!’

Toby’s face was grey.

‘For God’s sake, Wolf, you can’t…’

‘Shut up,’ I said, putting the phone in my pocket. ‘Now we’ll see just how efficient all these new anti-terrorist strategies really are.’

They were pretty good, I have to admit.

Within less than a minute I heard the first sounds of activity outside the door.

Toby said, ‘This is madness. We’ve got to tell them…’

I poked him hard in the stomach.

It served a double purpose. It shut him up and when the door opened and Medler said, ‘Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,’ I was able to reply, ‘Mr Estover’s not feeling well. I think we ought to get a doctor.’

‘Not here, outside!’ commanded Medler.

I got one of Toby’s arms over my shoulder and began moving him through the door. I looked appealingly at Medler. He didn’t look happy, but to give him credit he didn’t hesitate. He hooked Toby’s other arm over his shoulder and we joined the flood of people pouring down the corridor towards the exit.

To create urgency without causing panic is no easy task and I think the police and court officers did pretty well. But of course the last people to get the message are very aware that there’s a large crowd between them and safety, and they want it to move a lot faster than it seems to be doing. Two men dragging a third along between them forms a pretty effective bung and all I had to do as the lobby came in sight was to cease resisting the growing pressure behind me and let myself be swept towards the exit on the tide.

I don’t know at what point Medler realized I was no longer with him. I didn’t look back but burst out of the building into the sunlight to be confronted by a uniformed constable who shouted at me. For a second I thought my escape was going to be very short lived. Then I realized that what he was shouting was, ‘Get away from the building! Run!’

I ran. Everyone was running. I felt a surge of exhilaration. It must feel like this to start a marathon, I thought. All those months of training and now the moment was here to put your fitness to the test.

My marathon lasted about a quarter of a mile, firstly because I was now far enough away from the court for a running man to attract attention and secondly because I was knackered. I still tried to keep reasonably fit but clearly the days when I could roam twenty miles across the Cumbrian fells without breaking sweat were long past.

I was beginning to feel anything but exhilarated. My sense of self-congratulation at getting away was being replaced by serious self-doubt. What did I imagine I was going to do with my freedom? Head up to Poynters to see Imogen and Ginny? That would be the first place Medler would set his dogs to watch. Or was my plan to set about proving my innocence like they do all the time in the movies? I’d need professional help to do that and no legitimate investigator was going to risk his licence aiding and abetting a fugitive. OK, the promise of large sums of money might make one or two of them bend the rules a little, but only if they believed I still had easy access to large sums of money.

And now I came to think about it, I didn’t even have access to small sums of money. In fact, I had absolutely nothing in my pockets except for Toby’s phone. I was an idiot. I should have made him hand over his wallet as well!

My horizons had shrunk. Without money I wasn’t going anywhere I couldn’t reach on my own two feet. The obvious places to lay my hands on cash – home in Holland Park, my offices in the City – were out because they were so obvious.

Well, as my Great Aunt Carrie was fond of saying, if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain. Probably saying that would get you stuck on the pointed end of a fatwa nowadays. But Carrie lived all her life in Cumberland where they knew a lot about the intractability of mountains and bugger all about the intractability of Islam.

I took out Toby’s phone and rang Johnny Nutbrown on his mobile.

When he answered I said, ‘Johnny, it’s me. Meet me in twenty minutes at the Black Widow.’

I thought I was being clever when I said that. No reason why anybody should be listening in to Johnny, but even if they were, unless the Met was recruiting Smart Young Things, even less reason for them to know this was how habitués referred to The Victoria pub in Chelsea. Not that I was ever a Smart Young Thing, but Johnny had taken me there once and been greeted as an old chum by the swarming Dysons, i.e. vacuums so empty they don’t even contain a bag. I’d committed the place to my memory as somewhere I’d no intention of visiting again.