There was nowhere else he could think of going. He returned to The Running Man, a place with which he had no known connection, and where nobody knew him. The one night he had spent there lingered in his memory now as a time of peace and tranquillity. They seemed glad to see him again, especially Ellie. ‘We don’t get a lot of visitors at this time of year,’ she admitted. ‘So you can have the same room, if you like.’ He took it. ‘Mr Gibson, isn’t it?’ He nodded and smiled. That would do for now. His passport, the one he was using at present, said different, but by now he could scarcely recall the name he’d started out with. What was in a name, anyway? But he kept ‘Harry’. That would always be with him. You had to have something to cling to. ‘It’s Harry,’ he volunteered. She nodded, as if that explained a lot. ‘Harry,’ she repeated.
