Ambleside was a walker’s paradise, and cheap. The Airbnb was hidden away, and he’d rented it months ago. He kept moving to avoid exposure.
Joe knew how to stay offline.
The drive into Ambleside was claggy and frustrating but thoughts of what he would say on his next episode of the DiggerMan podcast kept him distracted amidst the traffic. Itwas already part recorded and this one featured Jamie Robbins himself.
From the grave.
The same grave of his unborn child.
Stop it.
He focused on the podcast.
A reveal was so called for a reason: it gave information to the public that was shocking because it had been concealed. Pure and simple.
The problem was that those who wished important information to be hidden were usually the ones who profited from its secrecy.
So, he was careful.
And that’s why he’d chosen to play both sides.
And he’d promised them what Angie hid in the caves.
Problem was he couldn’t find it.
The flat was anonymous. All the kit was rapidly dismantled. The surfaces were easily wipeable, and the neighbours weren’t the sort to give evidence to the coppers. The street was a long row of terraces, forgotten by time, and all the windows were either covered with drapes or full of flyers for climbing experiences and clubs. He set up his monitors, mics, headphones and soundproofing equipment easily. He’d done it a thousand times before.
He ran through his notes a few times before he started. He took a deep breath and then warmed up his lips and mouth.
‘Bladder, bone, belly, blubber.’
He repeated the mantra a few times, making sure to enunciate the vowels and consonants. He exercised his mouth and put his head back and gargled, warming up his throat.
He began.
Then the lights went out and his screens went blank.
He froze.
The blinds were blackout, and the room was plunged into instant darkness, despite it being only late afternoon.
He tapped the mic, but it was dead. He checked the feeds behind the screens, and they seemed fine, then his eyes began to accustom, and he looked around the room.
There was no movement, no sound and no shift in energy.
He heard the traffic outside and a heated argument in the distance. His eyes adjusted and a sliver of light caused a shadow to dance across the first-floor window, and he slipped out of his seat and went to it and held the curtain back.
A sinking feeling crept through his guts, and he rooted around the room for his mobile phone.
He found his phone and saw he had reception and Wi-Fi.
Damn.
That’s how they’d traced him.
He hadn’t turned off his phone. What an idiot. He’d made a vital mistake because he was rattled.
He had no idea if the copper was toying with him when she told him about Angelina’s baby. His baby. He was going to be a father.
