Chapter 1
The man with the beady eyes and tailored overcoat had been standing at the curb between Sutton Way and Whitecross Street for the past half an hour. He stood silent, his back to Freddie, smoking a cigarette and staring in the general direction of Whitecross.
Move, thought Freddie, or else tell me what you're waiting for.
His teeth started to chatter. He hated waiting, especially when it was below zero degrees and the suspect hadn't done anything so much as give Mr Cilenti a look before leaving El Paradis at eight forty. But it was enough for Freddie to start thinking, which tended to lead to following and hopefully information. Except he wasn't getting any.
But then something rather peculiar happened. Just as the beady man was about to take another drag from his cigarette, he abruptly stopped and turned to walk towards a car parked alongside Whitecross Street. He opened the car, got in and started the engine before promptly driving off. There were no taxis about, no cars on the road. There was no way of going after him.
Freddie stood, frozen to the bone, by the curb, an expression of utter confusion and frustration etched on his face. What in the blazes was that about?
He ran through the series of events in the evening which had led up to this point. He said goodbye to Bel at the studio, who had seemed a mixture of confusion and happiness throughout the whole day, before going to El Paradis to talk to Kiki's friend, who appeared to have been ill, although Freddie found this debatable, and then he walked across towards the entrance of El Paradise, saw Cilenti and this funny man, who exchanged a few words with him that didn't seem like small talk, got in a taxi which Freddie promptly followed, got out at Silk Street, walked here and then… And then nothing. Nothing had happened! Unless Freddie had fallen asleep or been hallucinating for 30 minutes, which he severely doubted.
But he was not called a journalist for nothing. At least he had the car's register number, the make and the colour. Now all he had to do was find it. Easy. Simple. But still. It was still perplexing. That man had clearly been waiting for something….
It didn't matter though. The car was gone and there wasn't any point in Freddie waiting anymore. What a waste of time…..
Walking down Silk Street he peered at his watch, which read a quarter past eleven. He silently cursed to himself. Camille was going to have another rant at him unless he started heading home quickly. For the past three days, he had come home past one o'clock in the morning and as a result she wasn't speaking to him. He couldn't help it though. He couldn't get Cilenti out of his head and Bel…
"Bel? Oh, don't worry about her, she hasn't suspected anything," said a smooth, husky masculine voice.
Freddie stopped. He knew that voice….
Looking across the road, he noticed two men talking outside a bar. One of them was blond and the other… Bill Kendle.
Quietly Freddie stood, not moving a muscle as he watched them, able to hear every single word.
"But what if she does? I know she trusts you enough not to suspect but that friend of hers-" said the blond one with agitation.
"Lyon? Huh, he's harmless," replied Kendle with a smirk.
"Bloody good journalist though. And we want Madden on our show-"
"I know, I know. I'm leading up to that. Anyway, this story ought to put us above The Hour at least for a week," said Kendle before throwing away his cigarette butt.
"You're ruthless, do you know that? If she finds out that you've been stealing her-"
"Well, she won't will she? I'm got to go, early start tomorrow," said Kendle before leaving.
Freddie throughout the whole of this exchange felt a strange darkness growing, pure fury and ugly anger rising within him. He could hardly contain himself from going over to the idiot and starting a fight. How dare he-
But he found himself already going after Kendle. He walked silently behind him, waiting to be out of reach from the blond man.
As they turned to a less busy street, Freddie finally said.
"Hello Kendle."
He saw him visibly stiffen before composing himself and turning around.
"Lyon," he said with a curt nod. "Fancy seeing you here?"
Freddie blinked several times before replying. Did he honestly think he was that stupid?
"You can drop the pretence Kendle. I heard everything," said Freddie, his voice surprisingly steady and not overcome by anger. But that didn't stop bitterness from entering his tone.
"You did," said Kendle lightly, not shaken in the least. "Actually, I was rather surprised that you didn't warn her off me more than you did. Didn't you two have a history together?"
"Why are you selling her stories to Uncovered?" asked Freddie, his voice monotone and dangerous. Kendle laughed.
"I'll take that as a "no" then shall I? As for the stories, you needn't worry. The Hour is finished anyway, and someone like you ought to be working for projects that are more interesting and have better pay. I can offer that to you-"
"I'm not interested," said Freddie slowly, glaring at Kendle. He wasn't going to get away with it.
"Really?" said Kendle, again light-heartedly but then the atmosphere changed and Kendle was no longer smiling. His gaze was direct.
"Mr Lyon, stop lying to yourself. Your show is on it's last leg, no matter how much input you may do. Do you know that Mr Madden is being considered as the new face for Uncovered? He and his wife would be the golden couple of ITV. Someone as intelligent as you must be able to see where this is going. Times are changing, and we must run with it," said Kendle, and Freddie couldn't help but see the logic to what he was saying. But it didn't justify he deception towards Bel.
"As much as I agree, your little speech is not going to stop me from telling Bel. I'll expose you Mr Kendle, and-"
"She won't believe you," said Kendle loosely before lighting a cigarette.
Freddie laughed sarcastically before saying, "I happen to be the closest thing she's got apart from her family. You don't know her. She's known you for barely a year." But somehow he felt so pathetic in saying it.
"Oh of course. You're her friend aren't you, and therefore she must believe you over me. And I'm just her fiancee," he added matter-of-factly before walking away, leaving Freddie behind.
"Please consider my proposition Mr Lyon. You'd be an idiot not to."
Freddie didn't know how long he stood there for. He didn't know what to think. Was this how she felt when she saw Camille for the first time? It was 11:50 now and he was torn over whether to confront Bel or go home. But then he remembered what he once told her…
"I wish you'd told me, before you did done such a stupid-. Stu-, stupid….. Wonderful thing"
"And what would you have done?"
He closes his eyes and breathed out deeply, creating fog that blinded his view. He turned around and hailed a taxi.
And went home.
