Page 133 of Reinventing Cato
“They’ll try your house first, then the astrophysics department.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
Cato ended the call, dropped his arms to his desk and lowered his head. Should he hide his pay-as-you-go so they couldn’t find out Vigge had just rung him? He took a padded envelope from his drawer, silenced the ringtone and put the phone inside, then went down to his pigeonhole. Part of him was tempted to leave the building, just go for a wander around Cambridge, but he guessed that if the police didn’t find him, then theywouldcall him and by then, everyone would know something was up.
So he went back up to his room and stayed there, barely concentrating on what he was supposed to be doing and when the knock came, his first thought was—at last.
They weren’t in uniform but he knew they’d have had to show their warrant cards to be allowed into the building. One of the security guards had come up with them, but left once he’d delivered them to Cato. Cato thought they’d end up asking him to go back to Huntingdon, but they wanted to look at his desktop computer. He didn’t want to appear defensive, but…
“This isn’t my property. It belongs to the university. I can show you what I’m working on, but I don’t keep any details of what I’m doing day to day on here. It’s just academic stuff.”
He let them look through everything in his room. He had nothing to hide. He knew they wanted to take the computer, but that wasn’t going to happen without a search warrant. Maybe not even with one. He’d have to ask for advice about that.Shit, should I have called the lawyer?
They asked him to go with them to Huntingdon.
Cato sighed. “Is it okay if I drive there or I’ll have no way of getting back?”
The moment they’d left, he rang the lawyer and arranged to meet him at the police station. Cato picked up his pay-as-you-go as he left the building, and on the way back to Selwyn Road to get his car, he called Vigge and told him what had happened.
“Have you called your lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll stay at work until they let you go, then follow you home.”
“Your home?”
“Wherever you like.”
“Then your home.”
“Bring your violin.”
~~~
Cato’s lawyer stopped him saying almost anything. Even when Cato wanted to say something, the nudge against his foot told him not to. Cato was bitterly disappointed that Aaron had stayed silent, but now he wanted to give the footballer’s name, his lawyer had told him not to. It was gone seven when Cato finally emerged from the station. He hated to think how much this was going to cost him, and not just in legal fees.
By the time he’d reached Vigge’s house, with Vigge following him all the way there, he was almost at breaking point. But he pulled himself together, grabbed his bag and violin and met Vigge at his front door.
“That was horrible,” Cato whispered.
He followed Vigge inside, found his bag and violin being taken from his hands, before Vigge kissed him.
“That wasn’t horrible,” Cato said.
Vigge laughed. “You did okay.”
“No comment.”
That produced an even louder laugh.
“I’ve never saidno commentso many times in my life and I was quite happy to answer, but my lawyer kept nudging my foot. At least I think he was. Maybe the table leg fancied me.”
“I’m going to cook for us. You play your violin while I make dinner.”
Playing calmed him. Sex with Vigge calmed him. And when Vigge wrapped his arms around him in bed, Cato slid into a dreamless sleep.
~~~
