Going down Marylebone would have been the most direct way, but Jan had no desire at all to go past Security Central. He turned instead toward St. John’s Wood, through the quiet residential streets, then past Regent’s Park. As he did so the music died away and a man’s voice spoke loudly from the radio.
“Jan Kulozik, you are under arrest. Do not attempt to leave this vehicle. Wait for the police to arrive.”
As the words crashed out of the speaker the engine died and the car coasted to a stop.
Jan’s fear was mirrored in Sara’s horrified eyes. Security knew where he was, had been tracking him, were coming for him. And they would find her as well.
Jan tore at the door handle but it would not move. Locked. They were trapped.
“It’s not that easy, you bastards!” Jan shouted, rooting in the glove compartment for a roadmap, jamming in the cigar lighter at the same time. He pulled the map free and tore off a large square just as the lighter popped out. Holding the glowing element to the edge of the paper, blowing on it. It caught fire and he let it blaze, touching it to the rest of the map.
In a moment it was burning fiercely and he jammed it up behind the facia, in among the instruments and circuits.
The instant he did this the fire alarm began sounding and all of the doors unlocked.
“Run!” he said, and they jumped free of the car.
Once again they fled, not knowing how much time they had before the police arrived, running for their lives. Into the dark side streets, racing to put distance between themselves and the car. Running until Sara could run no more, then going on, walking as fast as she was able. There were no signs of any pursuers. Walking until they were in the safety of the crowded streets of Camden Town.
“I’m coming with you,” Jan said. “They know all about me, about my connection with the resistance. I’ve been warned. Can you get me out?”
“I’m sorry I ever got you involved in this, Jan.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Two people will be no harder than one. We are trying for Ireland. But you realize, if you do this thing, you’ll be a man without a country. You won’t ever be able to come home again.”
“I’m that already. If they catch me I’m a dead man.
Perhaps this way I can be with you. I’d like that. Because I love you.”
“Jan, please…”
“‘What’s wrong? I didn’t realize it myself until I blurted it out just now. Sorry I can’t be more romantic. That’s my engineer’s love song, I guess. And how about you?”
“We can’t discuss this now, it’s not the time
Jan took Sara by the shoulders, stopping her, moving them against a shop window. He looked at her, and lightly held her chin when she tried to turn away.
“There’s no better time,” he said. “I’ve just declared my undying love for you. And what do you respond?”
Sara smiled. Ever so slightly, but still she smiled, and kissed his fingers.
“You know that I am very, very fond of you. And that is all I’m going to tell you now. We must go on.”
As they walked he realized that he would have to settle for that. For the time being. He wondered what perverse streak had forced him to discover his love now, in this place, and declare it out loud like that. Well it was true, even if he had just admitted it to himself. True — and he was glad of it.
They were tired long before they reached their destination, yet they dared not stop. Jan had his arm around her waist, supporting her as well as he could.
“Not much… farther,” she said.
Oakley Road was a street of once elegant rowhouses, now derelict and boarded up. Sara led the way down the crumbling steps to the basement entrance of one of them and unlocked the door, closing and sealing it carefully behind them. The hallway was pitch black, but uncluttered, and they felt their way along the wall to the furnace room in the rear. Only when this door was closed did Sara turn on the lights. There were lockers along the walls, the welcome warmth of an electric fire, and the disused furnace in the rear. She found blankets and handed him one.
“All of your clothes, shoes, everything, into the furnace. They must be burned at once. Then I’ll find you some clothes.”
“You better take this first,” Jan said, handing her the lighter. “Get it to your electronics people, Thurgood-Smythe is in the memory inside.”
“This is very important. Thank you, Jan.”
They had little time for rest. There was a knock on the door a few minutes later and she went into the hall to talk with the newcomer. After that they had to hurry.
“We have to get to Hammersmith before the buses stop running. Old clothes for both of us. I have some ID, won’t stand up to anything more than casual interest, but we must have something. Is everything burned?”
“Yes, all gone.” Jan stirred the red ashes with the poker, turning up the smoldering mass of his wallet. ID, papers, identification, his identity. Himself. The unthinkable had happened. The life he knew was over, the world he knew gone. The future an indecipherable mystery.
“We must go now,” Sara said.
