The Search Read Online Free Page B

the TV and dreamed he was still driving, driving through places he’d never been, places that didn’t exist, sunken cities whose
streets were filled with waving reeds and darting fish.
    In the morning he persuaded the clerk to dig out Malory’s bill. A waiter spilt a tray of tea nearby and Walker moved aside to study the bill while a cleaner wiped the
floor. All the details of Malory’s stay were itemized: how much he’d spent on dinner and drinks; even an account of long-distance calls. Malory had made two calls, both to a number in
Meridian. He tried calling from the reception phone but the number had been disconnected. He made a note of the number and thanked the clerk. As he made his way from the desk someone touched his
elbow.
    ‘Walker?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I’d like to speak to you for a moment.’
    They walked away from the desk, stood near a plant offering a version of shade.
    ‘You’re looking for Malory.’
    ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
    ‘Carver.’ There was no handshake. Walker had never met him before but felt certain he recognized him from somewhere. Glancing down he saw that Carver had left a trail of dark
V-patterned footprints from the spilled tea.
    ‘Like I said, you’re looking for Malory.’ Knowing that some kind of response was called for, Walker did nothing, waited for him to continue. ‘I’ll put it
differently. I know you’re looking for Malory.’ He waited but Walker waited longer. ‘Do you know where he is?’
    ‘If I knew where he was I wouldn’t be looking for him.’
    ‘But you are looking for him?’
    ‘I just wanted to clarify a point of logic.’ Carver looked at him patiently.
    ‘Do you know where he is?’ he asked at last.
    ‘Why do you want to know?’
    ‘You have any idea where he is?’
    ‘You haven’t answered my question.’
    ‘If you hear anything, call this number,’ he said, pulling a battered playing card from his pocket – a ten of spades. He scribbled on the card and handed it to Walker. Walker
kept his hands in his pockets. Carver tucked the card into his breast pocket. Walker began to move away. Carver blocked his path.
    ‘I’m talking to you.’
    ‘No you’re not.’ Walker moved around him but Carver gripped his arm, hard. They were the same height.
    ‘Did you hear what I said?’
    ‘No.’ Walker tugged his arm free.
    ‘Let me give you a piece of advice, Lancelot. Everything she said to you was shit. Everything you hoped she was saying was shit. You think you have to go through all this shit just so you
can fuck her?’
    Walker concentrated on not moving, on letting nothing show.
    ‘You want to learn the hard way, don’t you?’ said Carver.
    ‘I don’t even want to learn.’
    This time Carver let him walk away. He had only gone a couple of steps when Carver called out after him, ‘Hey, Lancelot!’
    Walker kept moving and a second later something landed quietly in front of him. He looked down and saw a thin chain coiled up on the floor like a silver snake. He was able to check the urge to
pick it up but, involuntarily, he reached up to his neck to check that his own chain was still there. Then walked towards the lift, the chain like grit beneath his foot.
    Back in his room he crammed Carver’s words to the back of his mind, concentrated instead on the question of how he had known who and where he was. It was possible that he had just been
followed here – but it was more likely that Rachel’s phone had been tapped. And the chain . . . Abruptly he remembered why he had recognized Carver: the party, the guy he had bumped
into. He picked up the phone to call Rachel and put it down again immediately. He could feel sweat trickling down his ribs, a nerve twitching in his jaw. All this shit just so he could fuck her. He
hurled the phone across the room. Looked around for something else to smash but instead sat down abruptly. Forced himself to stay perfectly still, slowly emptying his mind of everything. He
remained like