Someone Hiding in the Shadows...

1- The Chase

People say your gut feeling keeps you safe,

as long as you follow your instinct.

What if you don't really believe it? At least initially.

Will it save you, when you see the light?

"I'm going home now, Jarod," I whisper in his ear, "the others have gone." Jarod's eyes gaze at me and he sighs heavily, as he raises his eyes to me in a, 'I wish I could go home too,' look.

"Don't worry, I'll grab a taxi," I tell him, as my handsome man smiles back at me and exit the private room, where earlier the formal business dinner had taken place. I'm glad to leave the overpowering whiff of testosterone mixed with locker room banter and a dram of whiskey.

Entering the hallway of the illustrious London Hotel, a mixture of embellished ceilings, ornate gilded mirrors and plush carpets are a feast for my eyes. The beautiful curved stone staircase with black metalwork banisters leads the way to the imposing entrance framed with an array of Tiffany inspired stained glass windows.

As I approach the large black doors with imposing brass handles, the smartly dressed doorman catches my eye, "would you like me to call a taxi for you miss," he enquires.

"Thank you, no."

He nods in acceptance whilst he opens the door to the winter night.

As I step outside, the cold night air hits my face and I pull my jacket tightly to me. Maybe I should have taken up his offer. I smile as I recalled my father's words. "If you watch the pennies," he once said "then the pounds will look after themselves". He would have been proud of my money saving strategy. I'm not tight like him, but frugal. Hotels always take a surcharge for their services. "Waste not, want not."

I set off along the pavement in good spirits. Cabs were always available in London, no matter the time, I understood. I would just amble along until I caught one.

As I stroll along the river bank of the Thames, I enjoy watching the array of lights as they stretch across the river. As I cross the walkway that leads to St Paul's, I feel disappointed that the bridge does not sway anymore, like it use to.

I stop half way to gaze into the river. The white lights dancing on the water are beautiful. The distinct smell of the river hits my nostrils, a unique muddiness you only get here mixed with a slight diesel smell from the boats. I hear the odd sounds of passing vehicles and car horns in the distance. The coldness seeps in through my jacket despite pulling it close and I shiver knowing it's time to move on.

A taxi approaches with its vacant light on and I run, waving my arms in the air, but I miss it by a whisker. The sound of tyres exiting on asphalt and the smell of diesel fumes taunts me.

"Sod it," I exclaim, "damn."

Upon looking at my watch, I am shocked how late it is. Or should I say early?

It seems almost desolate. I reflect that, maybe I was naïve to think it would be easy, regardless of the time, to catch a cab and I am thankful that I changed into my flat shoes before leaving.

I turn to the left of the cut through and stop in my tracks. A noise that sounds like something being dragged puzzles me. With determination I strain my ears to define what it is.