CHAPTER 37
Cass walked on.
It was dark by the time he reached Sichon. By then, he decided it was a stunningly beautiful stretch of coastline of white sandy beaches, coconut palms, small fishing boats, and teeming with small crabs that ran ahead before disappearing into holes in the sand. One day, perhaps . . .
He spent the night under a sheet in an old fishing boat that had been hauled up onto the beach. In the faint light of predawn, he washed his tee shirt and shorts in the sea, put them on to dry, and was moving again by daybreak. But he was desperately hungry and thirsty.
He checked his map. It was daunting. No, worse than that, it was impossible.
On the map, he had barely moved two inches, maybe fifty kilometres. At that rate, Surat Thani, the next sizeable town, was at least two days away. He should take a bus, anything, but he felt too scared. Meanwhile, he needed to recharge the phone and do something about his face and arms, which were sore with sunburn, and most importantly, he needed to eat, drink, and wash.
Back on the highway, he finally passed a fuel station with a 7-Eleven. He stopped and bought biscuits and water. He used the rest room to wash his face, arms, and legs while the cleaner in her white boots hosed things down between his feet, but she didn’t even look at him.
He then sat beneath a tree to eat and, as he ate, watched trucks arriving and departing. He wondered if he could risk getting on board one for a free ride north. A coffee shop was also open, and when he wandered over, he noticed phone charging points at outside tables, so he ordered a latte, took it outside, and plugged in the old phone.
Half an hour later, he called Kevin, who had just started work, serving on the till at Bashir’s Oriental Foods.
“Don’t waste time talking crap this time,” Cass said right at the start. “This is vital.”
“Where are you?”
“That’s a crap question already, Kev. Have you got a computer?”
“No.”
“Find one, Kev. It’s urgent. Listen to me. I uploaded some stuff from a memory stick onto our old school projects site. Remember it? If I get caught, they might find the stick, so I might throw it away just in case. But I need you to download it. It’s like evidence, Kev. You got a pen? Quick. I need to move.”
Kevin scrabbled for a pen and tore off a length of till roll as Cass continued talking. “I don’t know how much credit is on this phone. It might die at any minute. You got a pen yet?”
“Yeh.”
Cass spelled out the details. “You got all that? Read it back. It’s photos from passports I made in Turkey. It’s dynamite, Kev. Even if they find me . . .” Cass’s voice faltered. “I gotta go, Kev. I just saw a police car.”
There was a click, and the phone cut.
***
When Kevin looked up, a woman in a black niqab was standing at the till, holding a basket of long beans and green brinjal. “Bash?” he called out. “I gotta go out a minute. Mrs. Alabar’s waiting.”
The muffled reply came from somewhere at the back of the shop. “Raktakta jahannnama. Bloody hell. Come go, come go. Bloody man Khan is it?”
Standing on the corner of Park Road, Kevin called Roger. “We need a computer, Roger.”
“Best Madge can do is a microwave, Kevin. What’s up?”
Kevin explained Cass’s call.
“So who do you know with a computer?”
“Umm.”
“Anyone else you know, Kevin?”
“Winston, but he’s at work.”
“How about Mr. Greg, Kevin? Greg’s got a computer in his workshop.”
“How do you know?”
“I met him last night, remember? Chocolate cake and cocoa? I’ll pick you up on Midland Road in five minutes. Look out for something small blue and slow.”
Kevin ran down Park Road, around the corner into Midland Road, and then stopped. Mr. Khan and Kooky Akram were coming towards him. It was too late to go back, change direction, or cross the road. Kevin stopped. “Subha savera, Mr. Khan.”
Khan never returned greetings. “Going somewhere?” he said as Akram held back.
“Nowhere much, Mr. Khan.”
“I have a delivery for Lansdowne Road,” Khan said.
“But I have no car, Mr. Khan.”
“Take the bus. Follow me.”
Kevin swore beneath his breath. Roger’s blue Fiat had just passed by in a line of cars and buses, but what could he do but follow Khan and watch Kooky Akram’s shoelaces dragging along the pavement. He caught up with Khan. “Mr. Khan, I need to tell Bashir I’ll be out for an hour or so.”
He crossed the road to Bashir’s and nearly collided with Mrs. Alabar coming out.
“Urgent job for Khan,” he told Bashir.
Bashir was now on the till. “Fucking bastard man,” he spat. “He thinks no one else has business to run?”
When Kevin went in through the front door of Faisal World Travel, Khan was behind the dusty desk and Akram was on a chair opposite. Between them sat a small envelope sealed with brown tape. Khan picked it up, and without even speaking or looking at Kevin, he handed it over. Kevin left and called Roger as he walked.
“What’s up?” Roger asked. “Was that Khan?”
“Yeh and Akram. You see his shoes? I had to go back. I’ve got a package for Greg.”
“How timely. Meet me in the Tesco car park.”
A short while later, they were turning into Lansdowne Road. “What worries me, Kevin, is if they constantly watch Greg’s house,” Roger said.
“What if they hack Greg’s calls?”
“There’s a time and place for negative thoughts, Kevin.”
“Yesterday, you told me to be more imaginative.”
“Let’s not fight over adjectives. Go and ring the bell.”