IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery, Ray Clark [classic books for 10 year olds .txt] 📗

when the plane was trundling along at ten miles per hour on its way to a safe destination to dock? What the hell did they think would happen?

Nevertheless, he cooperated.

When it finally stopped almost everyone was standing. Somehow they always managed to beat him. One passenger was even at the door to leave, case in hand.

Within seconds of departing they were rushing down empty corridors to the carousel. The conversations around him were of frustrating and unnecessary business trips and holidays from hell – although how anyone could have a bad holiday in the Bahamas was beyond Anthony.

The queue at the passport booth was relatively short but judging by the jobsworths inside the glass cabins it was set to grow longer. Why did they make you feel so uncomfortable? Was it a trait of the job when you attended the interview? Give us your most aggressive stare; see if you can cause someone to wither without uttering a word.

Anthony moved forward, presenting his passport. The woman took it. She had short black hair clinging to her scalp, a severe expression, and an attitude that said, whatever it is you’re thinking of saying – don’t! He was reminded of Zoe.

“How long have you been away, sir?” she asked.

“A few weeks,” replied Anthony.

“Business or pleasure?”

“Both.”

What the hell was she doing? wondered Anthony. All she had to do was check the picture and let him through.

“No personal baggage?”

“No, it’s not worth the aggro these days, might as well put it all in the suitcase.”

She handed the passport back. “Have a safe journey, sir.”

Anthony was surprised. He’d have laid odds he’d end up being dragged to one side, left to wait for hours before being strip-searched in a private room.

What an imagination, thought Anthony. That’s what comes of working with those three.

Talking of which, as Anthony descended the staircase to the carousel he switched on his phone. He had a few minutes to spare because the belt was still empty and stationary.

The crowds had already gathered. Where the hell had they come from?

Glancing at his phone, he realised a problem of sorts. With no signal, the phone hadn’t connected to anywhere. Maybe it would when he was outside.

Anthony wanted a meeting as soon as possible. He had done a lot of thinking while he was away. He needed to make changes, take control of his life, maybe even go it alone – or retire altogether.

Two years ago he would never have thought that. Not even one year ago, or six months.

But everything changed three months ago. They’d gone a step too far.

That was down to Zoe. He didn’t think for one second if the other two – or himself – had been driving, that they would have killed David; and deliberately, in his opinion.

Yes, thought Anthony, it was time to move on.

He spotted his suitcase and moved forward through the complaining throng, who were moaning about not having seen theirs.

He grabbed it, dropped it onto the floor, extended the handle and headed for the “nothing to declare” aisle.

With customs cleared he entered the terminal to see a number of people holding placards. He didn’t spot anyone he knew so he continued to the exit for the car parks, threading his way through even more people, all intent on blocking his way.

To his right he heard convoluted conversations. To his left he could hear music. Not the usual piped crap they always played – music you couldn’t put a name to in a million years; it had more of a brass band or circus feel to it.

He was about ten feet from the door when he heard a loud scream that made him jump.

Anthony turned to see what it was.

Three seconds later he fainted.

Chapter Nineteen

Anthony woke up with a crowd round him. Initially he didn’t recognise anyone and he hadn’t a clue where he was. People were prodding and poking him, asking him what had happened. Was he okay? Thin people; fat people; old people; young people. You name it, he had them in front of him.

A multitude of colours and strange sounds suddenly exploded in his mind and Anthony remembered exactly what had happened.

He raised himself from the floor and rose to his feet almost in one movement, his head all over the place, glancing in every direction. “Where is he? Where is he?”

“Who are you talking about, son?” an old man asked.

“The clown. The clown,” shouted Anthony, “the fucking clown. Where is he?”

“I’m not sure,” said a woman with large glasses and wild red hair.

“He’s around here somewhere,” replied a teenager dressed like a tramp. “Do you want us to get him?”

“I fucking don’t,” said Anthony, picking up his case, trying to make a run for it. As he was about to move, a doctor appeared, with a nurse.

Anthony was going nowhere until he’d had a thorough examination. He argued but it made no difference. The pair of them marched him off into a side room, which turned out to be a staff restroom-cum-canteen. It was clean, quiet, pleasant smelling, and warm. Sweet tea was brought to him and he sat there for quite some time answering questions.

The doctor said he had coulrophobia.

Anthony knew exactly what it was. He didn’t need to be told; thirty fucking years he had been frightened stiff of clowns – he didn’t need a quack to analyse it.

They had left him with a second cup of sweet tea, and some time to compose himself; they said they would call back once he’d had time to calm down.

Fat chance. The tea had done nothing to help and Anthony once again relived the episode of what should have been a birthday treat.

As his parents were music hall entertainers they loved anything connected to the world of