Free The Final Minute by Simon Kernick Page B

so much after all. In the end, PI work was a lot more dull and laborious than she’d been expecting and this, at least, might provide something in the way of excitement. And if this guy was a crank, then she’d break out the pepper spray and the truncheon from her desk drawer and deal with him that way.
    ‘OK,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘Come here for midday.’

Nine
    The world’s a frightening place when you’ve got no one, and no means of supporting yourself. You feel cornered the whole time, as if whichever way you turn, you’re going to encounter some insurmountable obstacle that’ll keep forcing you backwards. The euphoria of escaping my assailants the previous night had now disappeared entirely, replaced by a strong sense of fear and hopelessness, and I was counting on Tina Boyd helping me, because right now she felt like the only thing standing between me and oblivion.
    First impressions weren’t that great, though. Her office was in a row of grime-stained terraces in a deserted litter-strewn street, opposite a construction site where the buildings had been thoughtfully levelled to provide a view of the train lines. I guess it was good business sense never to show your potential clients how much profit you were making out of them, but it seemed Tina might have been going a bit too far the other way.
    Once I’d paid the cab driver, I was down to my last twenty pounds, which was going to please Tina no end. Not only had I sounded like some kind of loon when I’d talked to her on the phone, I couldn’t pay her either.
    But at least I was clean. I’d thought about sleeping rough somewhere after I’d got off the train at Paddington at close to midnight, but had quickly given up that idea when I’d stepped on to the concourse and felt the bite of the wind. I’d found a cheap guesthouse on an adjacent street, paid cash for the room, and had managed to have a warm shower and a short, but thankfully dreamless, sleep.
    I rang the buzzer at the front of the building, feeling strangely nervous, and waited for Tina to come to the door. She gave me an appraising look through the glass that didn’t fill me with a great deal of confidence, before opening up. The photo in the paper hadn’t lied: she was an attractive woman of about my age, not as tall as I’d been expecting, but there was the shoulder-length dark hair and the pretty, angular face that reminded me of an actress I’d seen on TV recently but couldn’t put a name to. It was her eyes that really caught my attention, though. They were hard and dark, the expression in them coolly inquisitive, but there was something else there too, a vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide, even though it was clear she was trying hard.
    I fancied her immediately.
    Then she frowned and said something that really shocked me. ‘Sean? What on earth are you doing here?’
    For a couple of seconds, I couldn’t speak. I stared at her. She stared at me.
    ‘My name’s Matt – Matthew – Barron,’ I said uncertainly. ‘At least that’s what I’ve been told. I was in a car accident. It left me in a coma for three months.’ I lifted up my fringe to reveal the scar. ‘And now I can’t remember a thing about my life before.’ I felt a sudden twinge of hope, because at least Tina had recognized me. ‘I need you to help me piece together what’s happened to me.’
    She tried hard not to look at me as if I was insane but didn’t quite manage it. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person to help you. You need to see a doctor.’
    ‘Look, people are trying to kill me, and I have no idea why. Let me at least tell you my story. Or what I know of it. Please.’
    Tina sighed. ‘OK, you’d better come in,’ she said, with far too much reluctance for my liking.
    She led me down a narrow hallway about five degrees colder than the air outside and into her office. It was smaller than I’d expected of someone who could get a full-page spread in a national newspaper, with