Cherringham--The Vanishing Tourist Read Online Free Page A

useful: “Not anymore.”
    “So what are you?”
    “Friend of the missing man’s sister.”
    “That bloody woman, eh?” said Babcock. “With all her questions? Well, I can’t tell you anything I didn’t tell her already on the phone.”
    Jack sensed this was a sensitive subject.
    Which usually meant he was onto something.
    “Could be. Still — if you don’t mind — she believes her brother got off the coach in Cherringham and didn’t get back on.”
    “She believes wrong . We picked up the tour group that day in London and we took the whole tour group back to London. Every single one of them.”
    “Not what she says,” said Jack adding a bit of edge to his voice.
    “She’s upset, confused. She’s not thinking straight. Americans, you know.” Then the man squinted, grinning at his own dig. “Oops …”
    Jack didn’t react. “Maybe,” he said, as if he didn’t believe a word of it. “How about I talk to the driver that day?”
    “You’re lucky day. You’re talking to him. I was at the wheel that day. Can’t get enough drivers. People don’t like hard work any more.”
    “Okay — so you counted the tourists on and off at each stop?”
    “Always do,” said Babcock. “Golden rule.”
    “And the numbers added up?”
    “If they didn’t I wouldn’t have left, now would I?”
    “Suppose not,” said Jack. “You keep some kind of a log?”
    “Don’t need one,” said Babcock, tapping the side of his head. “It’s all up here mate.”
    Jack nodded.
    He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy. The shutters were down and the man's guard was up for some reason — so he was going to have to find a way around them.
    “I guess that answers it,” he said, smiling. “Had to ask you know? Sorry I’ve held you up.”
    He watched Babcock break into a toothy grin and wipe his hair back.
    “No problem,” said the driver. “Customer care — it’s what we’re about.”
    “Sure,” said Jack. “I’d better be off. Oh — anywhere round here I can grab a sandwich?”
    “Yeah,” said Babcock, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. “Tesco’s — down the Cowley Road there.”
    “Mind if I leave the car?”
    “No problem. Parking in this city’s a pain in the arse. I’d lock it up if I were you though. Can’t be too careful round here.”
    “Thanks, Mr. Babcock.”
    “Name’s Ray. Any time.”
    Jack gave the guy a brief wave and headed back towards the Sprite.
    Behind him, he heard the whoosh of the pneumatic door as Babcock climbed into his coach.
    He took his time pulling the roof back on the little sports car and when he saw the big bus draw away and head for the gate, Jack gave its driver a friendly wave.
    He waited for it to disappear down the Cowley Road, then left his car, and headed for the trailer.
    *
    The young guy Jack had seen working at the computer in the trailer-office couldn’t have been more helpful.
    Jack explained that he needed to see some old CCTV footage from one of the coaches and that Ray had okayed it.
    “You saw us chatting outside, right?”
    The guy, Jimmy, was just a student working part-time to earn some extra cash.
    “Soon as Mr. Babcock knew I was doing computer science he was all over me,” he said proudly, as he made Jack a cup of instant coffee. “The network was a bit of a mess, but I’ve got it well sorted now.”
    “Ray said you were quite a wizard, Jimmy,” said Jack.
    So, it’s a white lie, he thought. No big deal …
    Certainly not the first time.
    “Don’t know about that,” said Jimmy. “But if I can’t find what you’re looking for — it ain’t here.”
    “I’m in good hands then,” said Jack. “Let me tell you what I need …”
    *
    Ten minutes later and Jack had all the CCTV footage from the Cotswolds Heritage Coach Tour loaded into a folder on a separate computer and was scrolling through the camera feeds one by one.
    There were eight cameras in all on the coach: four exterior and four interior.
    Jack was