He looked into the street properly for the first time, with the keen eyes of a fugitive instead of a roaming madman. A glance up to the left rewarded him. Yes, it was there. It wasn’t a brown car any more, it was a blue Ford. But the guys in it were the same two from yesterday. They were sitting on a double yellow in the tow-away zone trying to look like they had business being the only car there. Not so smart these cops. Did they see what he saw? Of course not.

But their presence sobered him, and he stood up on shaky legs with new resolve. He would lose them. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but it would be easy.

He straightened up, emerged from his shelter and walked a few steps into the street towards the bookshop. The window was good and reflective, and he positioned himself until he could see the Ford in the glass. The display was all tourist books: wildlife calendars with bears catching salmon, maps of the mountains, and books for fatties and morons on how to ski better. But the goods on offer were of little interest to Sam. He waited until he saw in the reflection the men start the car up and move forward, anticipating Sam’s slow progress up the street. He waited until they were almost level with him, then turned and walked briskly back the way he’d come. They couldn’t do a U-turn on that side, so he marched past the gallery and slipped into the alley that ran between it and the sports shop. He stopped and waited there watching his breath swirl around him like a spell. He knew they would drive to the top of Main Street, hang a left and speed round to where the alley emerged in Cedar Street. He counted to twenty and stepped back out onto Main Street. They were gone. Sam ran across the street and dived into the alley on the other side that came out by the bus station. Easy. He’d be behind the terminal building and on the rough ground by the railway lines where no car could go, long before they admitted to themselves their man had done a skunkeroo. As he went he cast one short guilty look over his shoulder into the street, and his heart started its pounding again.

Another trick.

Standing at the end of the alley was another inconceivable figure of his fevered fantasy. Sam held his breath and looked for the darkness swirling beneath its form, searching for its imperfection that would give it away as a mask. It stared back at him, solid and immobile, hands by its side letting the snow fall and rest on its preposterous impossible head.