Glasgow
8-30 a.m.
April 18th
The sound of traffic on the Cowcaddens Road woke Wheeler from a heavy sleep. He checked his watch. It was eight- thirty. He was as stiff as a board, a little more wet than damp and his head ached. Camouflage leaves and sticks tumbled off him as he sat up. He quickly checked to see if he was visible to the building or the road and was sure that he wasn’t. Which given the nature of the occupations of the building’s residents was something of a shame.
He gathered up the white bin liner and brushing himself off he jumped down from the wall and grass bank and made his way to the bus station just up the road. He was overtly aware of the CCTV, but on finding that the first National Express coach had left for London at eight-fifteen and the next was at eleven am he decided to get into the city and get a disguise.
He stopped for a cup of tea in cafe, drawing no more attention than any other down and out at that time in the morning. A visit to the ticket office yielded the knowledge that the ticket to London was fifteen pounds and being happy with the cash he had to get to get a ticket, better clothes and items for changing his appearance, he bought it and with near enough two hours to be ready he left for the Sauchiehall Centre on the 88 bus, having asked where the nearest shopping centre was and had been told in detail with many sorry looks at his state of dress and appearance.
On the bus he thought about the fact that he was badly dressed and that he’d have to use cash to get clothes as use of a card would almost certainly arouse suspicion. Deadbeats didn’t have bill addresses.