After leaving the hospital, Alex, Bridgett and Cube caught a bus into town. They hopped off at Friargate and walked towards the brown-brick university buildings.
‘What are your plans tonight, Bridgett?’ Alex asked, once they’d reached the university library.
‘Well, firstly I’ll go to the halls and take a quick shower. Then I’m meeting Andrea and the girls. We’ll probably run riot around town and then head for the union. Guess we’ll meet you guys there?’ Alex formed a picture in his mind of a large, loud, pissed and formidable all-woman gang. Female bonding. ‘I’m in a mood to let my hair down.’ – Bridgett confirmed the image.
‘Sure, we all are,’ Alex said. ‘We’ll leave you to it, me and Cube’ll catch you and your drunken hussy friends later at the union.’ He gave Bridgett a pat on her ample bottom.
‘Okay, see you later. Bye, Cube.’
Alex and Cube watched as Bridgett departed for the nearby halls of residence.
Alex turned to Cube: ‘Now then, where to, Cube?’
‘Wherever Dai Evans is.’
‘And where, my friend, would that be?’
Cube looked blank. Preston suddenly seemed like an awfully large town.
‘Do you know what course he does?’
‘Err – no.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’
‘Nnnnope.’ Cube stared at his phone. ‘It would help if the guy used social media, but there appears to be zip!’
‘He has got a smartphone, I’ve seen him use it,’ replied Alex.
‘That’s true,’ replied Cube, ‘I’ll fire off a few tweets; see if anyone’s seen him...’
Alex nodded: ‘Right, but first, let’s get a drink, I’m gasping, we’ll decide what else to do then. Where to?’
‘Wherever–’
‘We’ll try The Lamb and Packet.’
Inside the busy pub, Alex ordered two pints of lager and took a stool by the bar. He searched for any evidence of Dai online. There were several ‘Dai Evans’’ and huge numbers of ‘David Evans’’, but nothing linked to Preston or the university.
‘I’m drawing a blank. Anything?’ he asked Cube.
Cube shook his head as he continued to study his phone. ‘Looking for Dai in Preston is like looking for an alcoholic in a haystack,’ he observed. ‘I’ve had some retweets, and a tweet from SBainbridge97: “wtf is Dai Evans??”’
‘Who the fuck is “SBainbridge97!?’ demanded Alex.
‘Old school pal. Currently studying at Leeds.’
‘Oh, well that’s helpful!’
‘He keeps in touch with the Preston scene, locals, not students. If Dai moves in those circles...’ Cube trailed off, hypnotized by his phone.
Alex pondered the matter as he glanced around the pub. He recognized the new union president, Dave Gilsenan. Gilsenan, the ‘solitary man’ he’d observed arguing with three other students in the union bar, was once again engaged in more lively debate, this time with a handful of irate first-year students.
Alex rose from his stool and sauntered over to join Gilsenan and Co.
‘Housing: we know it’s a problem, and we’re going to stamp it out!’ declared Gilsenan, with force.
‘What kind of hackneyed cliché is that!?’ demanded one of the first-years. ‘You’re going to stamp out housing?’
‘No! The problem... Hello, it’s Alex Stanton, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, that’s right... can I just steal a minute of your time.’ Alex ignored the silenced students. ‘One minute – max.’
‘Sure, Alex. Excuse me a moment, folks.’
Alex ushered Gilsenan towards the doorway. ‘By the way, who were you arguing with yesterday, in the union?’
‘Huh? Oh yeah, I saw you there, second-year business admin students. Argumentative bunch!’
‘Yeah, I know... Look, Dave, I need a favour, it’s delicate, personal, you know? I need to track down Dai Evans – I’ve just got word that Spike has been in an accident, a hit-and-run or something. The guy’s all bashed up and at the Royal Preston. I’m not sure if it’s serious, but, you know, Dai needs to be–’
‘Who’s Spike?’ asked Gilsenan, looking restless.
‘You know Spike! He’s like the student mascot.’
‘I’m sorry, Alex, I don’t know Spike, and I don’t know who Dai Evans is either. Have you tried online?’
‘We’re on it, no luck yet.’
Gilsenan shrugged: ‘Look, I’ve got to be getting back inside. Sorry about Spike.’ He held his hands apart, shrugged, and then promptly disappeared back into the pub. Alex followed and caught up just as Gilsenan retook his seat.
‘Look, this is important, can’t you just get his address for me?’
‘whose?’
‘Dai’s of course!’
‘I’m sorry, we – the union – don’t have access to that information. And besides, the offices are closed right now. You should check with administration. They’ll know.’ Gilsenan turned his back on Alex.
‘The admin staff will be long gone by now,’ responded Alex, finally aware that Gilsenan was going to be of no help.
The president swivelled back to face him, a look of growing exasperation on his face: ‘Alex, you’re a good friend to Dai, that’s obvious, but the university can’t help, not until Monday morning.’ he glanced back at the watching students. ‘Contact the police, get them to put out an A.P.B.’
This elicited some laughter. Alex turned to face the cacklers: ‘Don’t take President Gilsenan here too seriously, girls, he’s what’s known in political circles as a “broken plate”.’
‘What’s a broken plate?’ asked one of the students.
‘You don’t want to know, love, trust me. It’s too sordid. In his case, sheep were involved.’
Alex returned to Cube. ‘Well, Gilsenan was a waste of time, the big heap of shit.’
‘What did you expect,’ replied Cube, ‘did you think El Presidente would just hand over Dai’s business card, or something?’
‘No. It was just worth a try. Anything turned up?’
‘No. I’m not sure we’re getting this to the punters who are currently out-and-about. Who do we know who’s into twitter and shit and is always out?’
‘Vikram?’
‘Yes! We’ll get him to do the heavy lifting.’ Cube’s thumb began to dance over his phone. ‘Got any other ideas?’ he asked, without looking up.
‘Not really, just that we try a few other pubs.’
Over the course of the next hour Alex and Cube looked in on several other pubs. Occasionally they stopped for a drink, but usually they just took a quick glance around before departing again. Never any sign of Dai.
‘Where the fuck is he!?’ demanded Alex, growing more dispirited. ‘It’s Friday night, he must be around here somewhere!’
‘We haven’t tried The Adelphi yet,’ suggested Cube.
‘I doubt he’ll be in there, but, come on, let’s check it out.’
The pub was full, like everywhere else, soon it would be full-to-bursting.
‘Nice try, Cube, but he’s not here either,’ stated Alex.
‘Let’s take five,’ suggested Cube, ‘I’m knackered.’
‘Yeah, alright... game of pool?’
Cube quietly eyed the pool balls, apparently deep in thought. He finally took his shot, missed, and then turned to Alex: ‘You know, Al, this is all so weird, I don’t mean the fact that Geoff, somehow, is making contact with us, although that’s weird as well, although the evidence must now be considered irrefutable, although clearly inexplicable to modern science, although according to quantum–’
‘Get on with it, Cube, for Christ’s sake!’
‘Yes, let’s suppose that your diet-cat-on-beans is somehow key, and let’s suppose that Geoff, through mysterious forces – not yet fully understood – somehow knows this.’
There was a short pause.
‘Is that it?’ asked Alex.
‘No,’ replied Cube, ‘the real mystery is this
: why hasn’t he told us to give him the drug? I mean, what the hell has Dai Evans got to do with the price of buns!?’
‘There is only one possible explanation that I can think of – let’s face it, this whole thing’s nuts, init? We’re only doing it because of the off-chance–’
‘What’s the one possible explanation?’ pressed Cube.
‘Diaketamine is poison. This is Geoff’s revenge.’
‘But you’ve taken it!’
‘I know, that’s what’s worrying me.’
17