All the Small Things (part 32)
Monday, mid-afternoon
Halfway along the drive, Danny and Harry caught their breath and leaned over the barrier to pose with a carload of girls from Manchester. A fresh chorus of squealing started up beside them, and they turned their heads to see who it was.
“Tom!” Danny leapt across and stretched out his arms. Tom ducked under, turned and smiled as Danny wound up hugging air.
Harry moved in, said something, then put his mouth next to Tom's ear.
“How was the meeting?”
“Like a root canal in your brain, without the fun parts.”
“Nice touch with the message. Twenty-three, in the marines. Genius!”
Tom grinned, and looked around. “Where's Dougie?”
“Over there,” Harry pointed, then looked. His arm drooped. “Somewhere. Danny?”
Danny pointed towards the door, where Fletch was standing with someone from Security, gesturing to them to come over. The Security man moved away as they approached, and Fletch led them into the building.
The silence in the lobby made their ears pop.
“Listen,” Fletch said. “Don't panic. A couple of fans got silly, Dougie ran off.”
Harry's mouth fell open, his eyes widened, then squeezed shut; his head dropped forward. Danny turned away, began thumping his fist against his forehead. Tom blanched, looked at Fletch then turned towards the doors.
“They saw him come inside, and they're looking for him, checking the CCTV, but… You know him better than anyone. Where would he go?”
Tom took a deep breath and turned back, shaking his head.
Harry lifted his head, opened his eyes, went to Danny and led him back. “Wasn't your fault, mate. Try to think, where would he be?”
“I don't know.” Danny's voice cracked. “Hiding, somewhere quiet.”
Harry nodded. “In a closet, a cupboard.”
“Behind summat. Under summat…”
“Yeah, or under a table or desk.” Tom looked at Fletch. “Wouldn't it make more sense for us to look for him?”
Fletch cleared his throat, then spoke louder than seemed necessary. “I can't let you go wandering around. Stay here.” He lowered his voice. “Even if I think you're right. Now, I'm going to go and tell Security what you just told me, and I will be absolutely furious when you sneak off. But be back here in ten minutes, or I really will have your balls on my Christmas tree. That's if I live that long.”
He turned and walked over to the Security man he was talking to earlier.
Danny went left, Tom went right. Harry looked around, then approached the front desk.
“Excuse me,” he said. “You didn't happen to see my friend come in a minute or two ago? He's sixteen, fair hair, about this tall, grey T shirt with an alien on it? He was probably very nervous, the crowd outside…”
The receptionist turned to her companions, conferred, pointed, turned back.
“He might have gone into the Ballroom.” She pointed to a corridor. “Down there, turn left at the end.”
Danny's feet thudded on the navy blue carpet. Should have been watching. He skidded to a halt outside a door. Locked. Thud thud thud, on to the next. Knew he was nervous, should have stuck with him. This wouldn't have happened if…
He reached the end of the corridor and looked back. Not many rooms, hotels were supposed to have lots of rooms.
The door beside him was glass with an embedded wire mesh, and through it was a set of stairs. He read the sign. Down, basement. Up, bedrooms, roof garden.
Roof garden.
No-one to catch me when I fall.
He threw himself against the door and hit the stairs running.
Harry pushed open the door and peered through the crack. The room was the size of a gymnasium, maybe larger, and filled with chairs set around tables covered with dark blue cloths, glasses and bottled water. The longest side had a stage, above which an oversized banner proclaimed, “London FM, the Heart of Music.”
He moved to the nearest table and lifted the edge of the cloth.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Harry looked up at the security man. Bloody hell. Arnold Schwarznegger would have to look up at this guy. He stood, careful not to rush.
“Harry, Harry Judd. Sorry to bother you,” he said. “I hope so. I'm looking for my friend. He had a bad scare and ran off. Reception thought he might have come down here.”
“This friend, what's his name?”
“Dougie. Dougie Poynter. He's sixteen, fair-”
The man nodded, pointed to his earpiece. “Quite a few people looking for him. Sorry, Mr. Judd, he hasn't come in here.”
“Oh.” Harry slumped. His tongue probed his cheek while he looked around the room again. He turned back to the guard. “He might be hiding under something.” He pointed to the tables. “He does that, sometimes.” Dammit, Dougie, where are you? Why couldn't you just come to Danny and me?
“I've been stood right here for the last twenty minutes, sir. He didn't come in here. Did you try the toilets and the cloakroom?”
“Cloakroom?”
The guard opened the door and pointed to a set of doors halfway back to Reception. “There are cameras, but sometimes they miss things…”
“Cheers.”
“Mr. Judd, word of advice. Don't sneak around, be obvious. People might get the wrong impression otherwise, if you see what I mean.”
“Right, er, thank you very much.”
Harry could feel the guard's eyes on his back as he hurried up the corridor.
“Dougie?”
This was the third conference room in a row, and it was at least four times the size of the others.
Tom ducked down, lifted the edge of the tablecloth. Not so bad. You can see along the whole table. No Dougie. He stood and moved to the other long table, bent down to look. Still no Dougie.
He heard voices outside in the corridor, looked around, then shuffled round the end of the table so it was between him and the door. The voices faded, and he stood and surveyed the room. Long tables, flip chart, tables at the back - nothing under them - and a set of low cupboards along the side wall, all locked.
There was a door at the back of the room. He walked over to it, tried the handle. It was locked.
“This is stupid. You could do this all bloody day and not find a thing. If you were Dougie, scared, would you come in here?”
He left the room and went back down the corridor, stood by the doorway to the lobby.
“Think. You're scared, you're running, you're looking for somewhere to hide. What do you do, where do you go?”
⇐ Part 31 - Part 33 ⇒