Page 127 of Reinventing Cato
His pay-as-you-go buzzed and he reached for it.
Back safe?Vigge asked.
Yes.
Sorry.
Cato didn’t respond.
Chapter Nineteen
The following morning, Cato rang Robert. Although Robert was a criminal lawyer, unfortunately for Cato, his friend had qualified in Scotland, so he wouldn’t be able to help directly, but Cato hoped to get the name of an English solicitor to represent him. He managed to render Robert speechless with shock, which was quite an achievement. But after promising that someone would call Cato within the hour, Robert then read him the riot act for speaking to the police at all without a lawyer by his side.
Cato knew Robert would keep his confidence, but he figured the wanker who was doing this would be happy his plan to wreck Cato’s life was succeeding. If Cato could keep it quiet about the police questioning him, then it opened up the possibility of the bastard betraying himself.
He didn’t want to stay in the house. He took both phones with him and slipped out before he bumped into Sam or Pedro. With no wish to do anything until he’d had a coffee, he headed for Greenwich House behind the Obs and bought a coffee and a bacon sandwich. By the time he’d reached the Battcock Centre, where he had his office and desktop computer, the sandwich had been consumed. He used his ID to get into the building and his pay-as-you-go rang as he was walking upstairs.
“Hello?”
“Is that Cato Smith?”
“Yes.”
“This is Michael Jones. I talked to Robert Leith this morning. I understand you have a requirement for my services.”
Cato breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
“We need to meet. I’m out of Cambridge until Sunday night. Is Monday morning convenient?”
“Yes.”
“Nine. I’ll text you the address.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t say another word to the police. If something should happen in the meantime, call me on this number.”
“Okay. I…” Cato wanted to say he’d done nothing, that he was innocent, but he swallowed the words.
“You sayno commentto every question you’re asked. Insist on having legal counsel. Call me if you need me. It’s your right. See you on Monday.”
Once he was sitting at his desk, Cato checked the phones. No messages from unknown numbers, but there was a missed call from Vigge last night. He put both devices in a drawer. If he started to think about Vigge, he’d get nothing done. Cato accessed the HPC, the University’s High Performance Computer, logged onto Peta4 and tried to bury himself in his data. It didn’t take long until he was exploring deep space.
When Cato emerged from the building, it was dark. He’d become so engrossed in what he was doing, he’d not even stopped to eat. He’d been happy with the work he’d done so far on strong gravitational lensing, but he’d had a thought that might open up a new line of enquiry. He’d already written a large chunk of his 60,000-word dissertation, but maybe he’d have a rethink.
Vigge had called twice more, so Cato rang him as he headed into town to find somewhere to eat.
“Cato.”
Hearing his name spill from Vigge’s lips sent goose bumps flashing over his body.I’ll blame the chill in the air.
“Hi.” Cato made sure he sounded as bright as he possibly could.
“I didn’t intend you to leave yesterday.”
You didn’t do much to stop me.“Oh.”
Vigge sighed. “I know I didn’t do much to stop you. It was a difficult day.”
