With Or Without Him Part 33

Tyler stirred the sugar into the coffee and then picked up his phone from the table and messed around with it, trying to deter conversation. As soon as he'd finished his drink, he'd leave.

"London very cold," the man said. "Is always this cold?"

Maybe before he finished his drink. "No."

"I grateful you let me sit here. I can practice my English. I not good." He laughed.

Tyler suspected the man was gay but wasn't sure. Different sort of pick up if he was. Not that he was interested. He thought of Haris and his gut clenched. I hate him. I love... No, I don't.

"What you do?"

Shut the f.u.c.k up.

"Sorry. I disturb."

Stop being such an a.s.shole, Tyler. Your f.u.c.ked up life is not this guy's fault.

"I'm a student." He took a sip of the coffee.

"I'm artistic director of Cairo Symphony Orchestra."

Tyler's cup clattered back onto the saucer. "Wow. What are you doing in London?"

"Looking for venue for concert next summer. We tour Europe. Paris, London, Rome."

"Think you could fit in a concert at a music college in Greenwich?" Pity he'd have graduated by then because Flowers would be so impressed if he convinced the man to bring his orchestra to the music school.

"Your college?"

Tyler nodded. "It's really beautiful. You might even be able to play outdoors next to the Thames. They've filmed lots of movies there. Les Miserables for a start."

"I see it?"

"Well, it's closed now for the holidays." He took another drink of coffee.

"I only here two more days. We could see outside now? I have hire car. Could drive."

Tyler hesitated. He wasn't trying to pick him up, was he? But why invent something as outlandish as artistic director of the Cairo Symphony Orchestra? Tyler thought about his guitar leaning against the window. Had that given him a clue? Nah, not from a guitar.

"Which soloists have you had playing with the orchestra?" Tyler asked. Not that he had any idea, but it might prove his legitimacy.

"Long list." The man laughed. "Rudolf Buchbinder, Ramzy Ya.s.sa, Alexander Frey."

That was all it took to convince him. Wow.

"Maybe we use best students as soloists. What you think?"

I wish I was going to be there. Maybe I could be. "Sounds a great idea."

Tyler's phone vibrated on the table. "Excuse me." He put it to his ear and turned away from the guy. "Hi, Des. You get my message?"

"Yes, and yes you can stay, but you have to get over here before six thirty. Everyone else is out and I've got a date."

"I owe you one, mate. Thanks a lot." Tyler put the phone in his pocket. That was lucky. He finished off his coffee and put the mug down.

"You really want to go and see the college?" Tyler asked.

"Absolutely."

"I can show you the exterior and maybe some of the interior if the place is open." Then all he had to do was walk the few hundred yards to Des's place. "My name's Tyler, by the way." He offered his hand.

"Jamil."

His grip was really firm. He must have big muscles under that coat. Tyler picked up his guitar and bag and followed him out.

"Car just over there."

He pointed toward a black Peugeot.

Haris waited while his father called Malik.

"He's not answering."

"Have you asked him about Ras.h.i.+d?"

"I've not spoken to him since Adil told me he hadn't caught the flight to America."

Something cracked in Haris's chest. "That's why you came. You were worried about Malik. It wasn't to tell me you were dying."

His father gave a little smile. "It's not. But Malik is...impetuous. I could see no good reason why he would want to be in contact with Ras.h.i.+d, why he would linger in London."

Haris's brain was racing. What was Malik up to?

"But perhaps Adil is wrong," his father said. "Perhaps Malik is in America."

"You clearly don't think so."

"I wondered if he stayed here wanting to talk to you."

"Why now?"

"Because I'm dying and he knows I would like the family to be strong, to be together."

Haris shook his head. "I have more important things to worry about than Malik. Where are you staying? I'll come and see you tomorrow. Give me your mobile number."

"The Savoy."

Haris tapped the number into his phone. "Give me the numbers for Adil and Malik too."

His father hesitated and then handed his phone to Haris.

He added them to his contacts and gave the phone back. "Thank you. Now you have to leave." He ushered him out of the room. "I need to find Tyler."

Wilson came into the hall as his father slipped on his shoes and coat.

"Could you call a taxi for my father?"

"I can drive him," Wilson said. "I'm sure the snow won't be too much of a problem. I've only skidded three times in my life and there were no collisions, though the effect on my nerves lingered for some time afterwards. I'm quite willing to take a chance if-"

"Call him a cab. No. Give him a drink, something to eat first. I have to make some calls." Haris strode into his study and slammed the door. f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k, f.u.c.kf.u.c.kf.u.c.k.

He knew he'd been rude, but he couldn't deal with family issues right now. He sat at his desk, his gaze dropped to the photos and he spun his chair around to face the other way. He left another message for Tyler and then slammed his phone down. Where would Tyler go? His flat would be sealed off. To one of his friends? The only ones he was aware of were Jeremy and the band members. The only person he knew how to get hold of was Jeremy, provided he was still in the hospital.

A call told him Jeremy was still there. He leapt to his feet, grabbed his coat from the closet in the hall and put on his boots. He wanted to speak to him in person and make sure he got the truth. Before he left, he stuck his head around the kitchen door and saw Wilson and his father sitting at the table.

"I have to go out. Wilson, keep trying to contact Tyler. Tell him...tell him to come home."

The snow had stopped falling, but it had settled on posts and railings and on the pavement, disguising harsh lines, hiding the dirt of the city. Haris tugged the hat Tyler had bought him out of his pocket and put it on as he hurried down the road toward the Tube.

Forty minutes later, he'd sweet-talked the nurse into letting him speak to Jeremy. There was no longer a guard on the door. A couple who looked like Jeremy's parents sat on either side of the bed. Jeremy's eyes widened when he spotted him.

"Sorry to intrude. I'd like a word with Jeremy," Haris said.

"Why don't you two go and get a coffee," Jeremy said.

"Are you sure?" The woman stared accusingly at Haris.

"Yeah, it's fine."

When they'd gone, Jeremy sighed. "They won't leave me alone. Tyler not with you?"

Haris slumped into a chair. "No. I don't know where he is. I was hoping you might."

"No idea."

Haris mentally groaned. "Did he mention any friends?"

"I don't think he had many. The night I met him, he wouldn't have even bothered with me if I hadn't pushed hard."

"You think he might have contacted Prescott?"

"No way. Prescott-"

"What?"

Jeremy pressed his lips together.

"What, Jeremy? Tyler's missing and I'm f.u.c.king worried about him. What about Prescott?"

"Nothing."

Haris tensed. "I know about the parties. I know about Gerald. I know what he did to you."

Jeremy sucked in his cheeks. "He didn't do anything."

Haris reached for his hand and gripped it. "Tyler let it slip."

Jeremy groaned. "I haven't told anyone. Prescott called me this morning, warned me off. He said he had nothing to do with the attack, that it wasn't his style. He said Gerald hadn't had anything to do with it either."

Haris struggled to make sense of this. "So Tyler told the police everything, but you didn't. They must know you're lying."

"Nothing they can do about it. Tyler said I haven't broken the law. If I keep quiet, no one will know I was ever involved. And I don't want to tell my parents what I've been doing. They'd be so ashamed. It's better they think it's some random attack."

"You're not worried whoever stabbed you will come back and finish the job? Make sure you stay silent?"

"He could have finished the job and he didn't. The knife wounds were shallow. He could have cut my throat. He'd tied me up. I couldn't fight back. Anyway, I'm being discharged tomorrow. My parents are taking me home to recuperate."

"You don't look overjoyed at the prospect."

"No, well, I suspect they think they can talk me out of being gay. But instead of running away, which is what I've always done, I need to talk them into understanding what I am. I'm not going to change. I was trying to get a look at your b.u.t.t from the moment you walked in."

Haris smiled.

"I'm worried about Tyler though," Jeremy said. "Have you fallen out?"

"Not exactly. I just need to talk to him."

"The thing is, I've been thinking about it, and I'm not sure the a.r.s.ehole who attacked me was after me. I was in Tyler's room. We're the same sort of build and height. And I'd dyed my hair. The man was p.i.s.sed off when he looked in my wallet. I a.s.sumed that was because it was practically empty, but maybe he wasn't looking for money. My driver's license is the first thing you see when you open it. What if he realized he had the wrong guy?

"He called someone, babbled away in a strange language and then grabbed my phone and sent a text to Tyler. I didn't know that then, obviously. He waited a while, checked his watch and then stabbed me. None of that sounds...right."

Haris's heart lurched behind his ribs. It didn't sound right. "A strange language?"

"I've no idea what it was."

"Did it sound like this?" Haris spoke a few sentences of Arabic.

"Maybe. A bit. Yes."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall. Dark curly hair. Olive skin. Older than you but not by much. Thin face, sort of a big nose and a pointed chin."

Not Malik, but was he describing Ras.h.i.+d? s.h.i.+t.

"Recognize the description?" Jeremy asked.

"I don't know. Possibly. I need to find Tyler." He stood.