'Oh yes. Truly.'

Tell me,' he said softly. 'Please tell me.'

'I don't know where to begin either.'

'Try,' he said. 'Please.' There was such a yearning in his eyes; such a need to know.

The carpet -' she began.

He glanced back at it. 'Is it yours?' he asked.

She couldn't help but laugh.

'No,' she said. The place you dream of... it's here. It's in this carpet.'

She could see incredulity sparring with his faith in her.

'Here?' he said.

Sometimes she almost found it difficult to comprehend that fact herself, and she had an advantage over Cal, or even poor Jerichau: she had the menstruum as a touchstone of the miraculous. She didn't blame him for his doubt.

'You have to trust me,' she said. 'However impossible it sounds.'

'I know this,' he said, his voice tight. 'Somewhere in me, ,' know this.'

'Of course you do. And you'll remember. I'll help you remember. But for now I need help from you,'

'Yes. Whatever you want.'

There are people chasing me.'

'Why? Who?'

'I'll tell you about them, when we get the chance. The point is, they want to destroy the land you dream about, Cal. The world hidden in that carpet. The Fugue.'

'You want to hide back at my place?'

She shook her head. 'I risked a call there to get your work number. They could be waiting there already.'

'Geraldine wouldn't tell them anything.'

'I can't risk that.'

'We could go to Deke's place, out in Kirkby. Nobody'll find us there.'

'You trust him?'

'Sure.'

She switched on the engine. 'I'll drive,' she said. 'You direct.'

3.

They turned into James Street, the fury of the rain monsoonal now. They didn't get far. A few yards down the road the traffic had come to a halt.

Cal wound down his window, and ducked his head out to see what the problem was. It was difficult to be certain of anything through the curtain of rain, but there seemed to have been a collision, and the traffic was backing up behind it. A few of the more impatient drivers in the queue were attempting to nose their way out into the city-bound lane, and failing, thus adding to the confusion. Horns began to blare; one or two drivers got out of their cars, their coats as makeshift umbrellas, to see what was up.

Cal laughed quietly.

'What's funny?' she asked him.

'An hour ago I was sitting in the Claims Department up to my elbows in paperwork -'

'Now you've got a fugitive for company.'

The deal's fine by me,' he grinned.

'Why the hell aren't we moving?'

'I'll go look,' he said, and before she could prevent him he was out of the car and threading his way through the maze of vehicles, pulling his jacket up in a vain attempt to keep the rain off his head.

She watched him go, her fingers drumming on the wheel. She didn't like this situation. She was too visible: and visible was vulnerable.

As Cal reached the opposite side of the street, her attention was claimed by a flash of blue lights in the wing mirror. She glanced round to see several police motor-cycles cruising along the queue towards the accident. Her heart jumped a beat.

She looked towards Cal, hoping he was on his way back, but he was still studying the traffic. Come on out of the rain, damn you, she willed him; I need you here.

There were more officers, these on foot, making their way up the street, and they were speaking to the occupants of each car. Diversionary advice, no doubt; innocent enough. All she had to do was keep smiling.

Up ahead, cars were beginning to move off. The riders were directing the traffic around an accident site, bringing a halt to the contrary flow to do so. She looked over towards Cal, who was staring off down the street. Should she get out of the car; call him back? As she weighed the options, an officer appeared at her side, rapping on the window. She wound it down.

'Wait for the signal,' he told her. 'And take it slowly.'

He stared at her, rain dripping off his helmet and his nose.

She offered a smile.

'Fine,' she said. 'I'll be careful.'

Though he'd delivered his instructions, he didn't move from the window, but stared at her.

'I know your face,' he said.

'Really?' she said, trying for light flirtatiousness, and missing by a mile.

'What's your name?'

Before she had time to lie, one of the officers up ahead called to her interrogator. He stood up, giving her an opportunity to glance back in Cal's direction. He was standing on the edge of the pavement, staring across at the car. She made a small shake of her head, hoping he'd read her signal through the rain-blurred window. The officer caught her warning.

'Something wrong?' he said.