Catching The Nearest Way
by
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Prologue
Hit and Run
Darkness. The cloudy August night concealed the harvest moon. The only light came from the feeble glow of the cheap torch carried by a man walking down the unlit lane.
He was worried. He had just learned that everything he was involved in, that he had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to make a success, was merely a ‘front’, put in place to cover up something so shameful, so immoral that his stomach lurched just to think of it. He needed to tell someone, but this was a foreign country and he didn’t know who he could trust.
When the message had come, he had been surprised. A friend, the voice had said, when he asked the caller to identify herself. He had been convinced that this ‘friend’ knew what was burdening his mind. Anyway, he had been reassured by the female voice – his enemies were men, greedy, corrupt, but powerful. He had paced the cottage in an agony of indecision, but when it came near to the time for the rendezvous, he put on his coat and walked out into the dark night.
He had been told to walk down the lane towards the farm. A car would come for him. But there was no sign of a car yet, and his anxiety grew.
He heard it first. The lane – a twisting, country lane – made it impossible to judge just how far away, but behind him he heard the roar of an engine. Then he saw, perhaps a mile away, the glow of headlights. He could not be sure it would be the person (people?) he was due to meet, so he kept walking, slowly. His uncertainty had returned, but there was no going back now.
He kept to the verge as the car came nearer. This section of the lane was relatively straight and he should be seen easily enough. He expected the car to move alongside him and stop so that he could get into it, but instead of this, it stopped some distance away. The headlights flashed. It was obviously the signal for him to approach.
He walked out into the middle of the lane, heart pounding – and realised with horror that the car was moving towards him, accelerating. The driver must have seen him – yet the car was going faster and faster, its engine screaming. He tried to leap to one side, but was too slow.
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About the Book
As successful businessmen know power corrupts and temptation becomes almost impossible to resist.
The University of Rowton is an august academic institution, steeped in history and tradition. But, like all such centres of excellence it has had to move with the times. In a world where students pay for their higher education the culture of the boardroom has invaded its ivory towers.
Meet Professor Donald James the modernising leader of Rowton University; the man who put the Vice into Vice Chancellor.
To find out more go to www.catchingthenearestway.co.uk
About the Author
Jessica Lord was born in Liverpool in the twentieth century. She has been, at various times, a nurse, midwife, university student and lecturer, Chief Executive and senior manager within health and education – including universities. Already an acclaimed author of educational material (under another name), Catching the Nearest Way is her first novel. Work has already begun on her second, A Matter of Principal.