The tension in the hall thickened the air, which smelled of dust, pine and birch, varnish, paint and coffee. Two actresses were gabbling in hushed tones in front of a wooden backdrop on which the entrance to a forest had been painted; a path disappearing into blackness.
Immediately in front of the stage, was an orchestra pit, where a violinist was attempting to argue a man in scruffy combat trousers, but he was preoccupied with his headset.
Simon gathered from the palpable anxiety that this was 'opening night' rather than a dress rehearsal. Most of the work had been done and now it was too late to make any dramatic changes. All they could do was follow the script and hope for the best. Except, something had happened. There was an air of panic. This was almost chaos.
It wouldn't be difficult for him to fit in. He picked up a plastic cup of coffee, which was sitting on a table against the wall, and took a sip from it as he strode across the hall, looking busy and purposeful, but feeling anything but confident and in control.
Sarah wasn't answering her phone, so he had to find Geraldine fast. He looked for a man on his own so he could pose as a friend of Geraldine's and ask where we she was. Nothing would destroy his deception more quickly than telling Geraldine that he was a friend looking for her.
He approached a couple of men who were positioning a table by the door, but they hadn't seen her. He tried an old man who stopped laying out chairs to scan the entire hall, but was no use at all.
He felt success drawing away from him. It was agony to be so near and yet so far from finding Sarah.
Though he was familiar with life and death situations, the 'death' was normally a consequence of his actions. Perhaps, he thought, this is how it feels to be on the other side; this fear - surreal and unshakeable.
He grabbed handfuls of his hair, biting back a scream of frustration, and then he saw a woman run down the steps to the right of the stage. She appeared to be hurrying so that nobody would see that she was crying. A sob escaped from her as she threw herself through the exit.
Simon jogged through the hall and found her leaning against the wall outside, her head in her hands.
“Geraldine?” he said and she stared at him through her tears. He suspected that Firdy had got here before him and that her distress was the aftermath of his visit. “I'm looking for Sarah,” he said.
She laughed. “Isn't everyone?”
So he had been right; Firdy had been here or at least their paths had overlapped.
“I'm looking for the man too,” Simon added. She stopped smiling. “You've seen him, haven't you?”
“No,” she said. “Not exactly.”
“Will you help me?”