Free Ghostwalk by Rebecca Stott Page A

know relatively well because of
Cobalt
—end of the civil war, the plague, the Fire of London, the establishment of the Royal Society. I’d like to read it, though, before I make up my mind.”
    “You can’t. This is an act of trust. I can’t let you read it unless you agree to finish it. You have four days to make up your mind.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m going to Berlin until Friday. A conference.”
    “Lucky you.”
    “I won’t see anything of Berlin. We’re not allowed to leave the hotel.”
    “Why?” You looked away. Waved for the bill.
    “The usual reasons. The lab managers have stepped up security to high alert. There’s a new animal-liberation campaign going on in Cambridge that’s getting nasty. Three car bombs and acid attacks since the summer. One of the car bombs was mine. I seem to be towards the top of their hit list now that the book is out. That’s a measure of professional success, I suppose.”
    “Christ. They got your car? Not the little green Mini.”
    “Yes. The fucking Mini. I’ve had that car since I was a student. We’ve got a Volvo now. I hate Volvos.”
    “I know. I’m sorry.”
We slept in that Mini, remember, parked in the middle of a field at night, somewhere outside Wisbech.
“Kit’s on one of those lists too, it seems,” I said.
    “Kit’s being targeted? Why?”
    “The fur coats on her stall.”
    “Oh yes, that would be reason enough—now. Oh, you know how it is. It’s no big deal. I’ve lived with it for at least fifteen years. Phone calls, letters, e-mails—threats mostly. Since you left, the sponsors agreed to pay for Sarah and me to get proper security for the house at Over so it feels safer. They leave the kids alone, which is something. But it’s more dangerous abroad—particularly in Germany, where many of my financial backers are based. The conference will be boycotted.”
    “Do you have to go?” Was this fear on my part or a sense of foreboding?
    “It’s my work. Of course I have to go.” You smiled. Yes, you knew. It had already started.
    “Look. Here’s my card and contact details. I’ve changed labs. You won’t be able to just drop by, I’m afraid. No one’s allowed in, not now. Even my office at Trinity has a CCTV camera. It doesn’t work properly, but the college has insisted on it, even though I’m only there once a week or so.”
    I looked at the business card you passed me. “Histon BioSciences?” I said. “You always said you’d never go there. Christ, Cameron. Why?” The Histon lab was notorious. There were whole groups dedicated to bringing that laboratory to a stop.
    “For a moment there, Lydia Brooke, I might almost have believed that you were concerned for my welfare. But it’s the thought of the puppies, isn’t it? Contrary to popular belief, we don’t torture puppies at Histon.” Your eyes had flecks of steel in them now. You were not going to explain anything to me, or defend yourself.
    “Here’s my mobile number. Would you text me in Berlin with an answer when you’re ready? I’m sorry to hurry you, but I have to make arrangements with the executors of Elizabeth’s will to release the money to pay your salary, and they’re putting pressure on me. If you agree, I’ll ring my lawyers and get them to send you a contract to sign. They’ll ask for your bank details so that your salary can go straight into your account, on the last day of the month, every month until March. Money. Christ, yes money. Sorry, I forgot. The salary. The details are all in this envelope. Someone contacted the Writers’ Guild to find out the upper end of the current rate for ghostwriting.”
    “Ghostwriter? Yes, I guess that’s what I’ll be.”
    “Sounds good, doesn’t it? Beautiful word. Ghostwriter. Ghost-pale. Ghost-light. Ghost-hour. Ghost…”
    “Ghost-ridden…yes, beautiful. And if I say no? What alternative arrangements do you have in place?”
    “None. I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no. Frankly. Throw