Breaking Point Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked hopefully out at his students, who were folding pieces of paper, replacing their headphones or attacking their phones with pairs of bended thumbs. Just one intelligent comment would do. ‘Or should you just cut the thing out, despite the physiological and psychological repercussions? What do we think?’
    ‘Fuck all,’ he whispered to himself. And this was a good university, one of the best in the country. Competition for places. Internationally respected research. Dr Crannell pictured the sanctity of his own lab and sighed again. Not exactly world class any more. In fact, it was increasingly coming to resemble his lecturing. Getting by, doing what had to be done.
    The students began to file out. A couple said thank you as they passed. Dr Crannell took that as a result. He pulled his memory stick out of the audio-visual computer and headed for the door. Past gaggles of students gathering in corridors, and those walking the slow, languorous walk of the young and unburdened. Down a flight of stairs , along a glass walkway, through two sets of double doors and past a security desk. And out into the fresh air.
    It was nearly six. With a bit of luck he could be home by half past. Soon it would be dark. James shuddered at the thought of impending autumn, which would quickly slide into winter.
    He headed across the concrete and tarmac of what was optimistically referred to as the campus. He thought again about the email, wondered whether he would get any more letters, considered whether the threats were specific enough to go to the police with. He pulled out his keys as he reached the staff car park and pointed them at an ageing VW Golf, which flashed its indicators at him. He threw his case in the passenger door and climbed in the driver’s side. A cold breeze entered with him. He shivered. Then something made him stop, made him look up.
    And then he saw them. Two well-built men. He recognized them from the lecture theatre. Sitting at the back. Looking older than the others, but just as disinterested. The thought had struck him but hadn’t quite crystallized in his brain at the time:
These aren’t students
.
    They were just ten metres away, staring at him. Cold and scary. He locked the doors from the inside . Another thought tracked him down: they had followed him from the lecture theatre. Down the stairs, along the corridors, past security, across the concrete, all the way. And now here they were. Just watching him. He glanced around. There was no one else about. It could only be him they were interested in.
    James fumbled with his keys and forced them into the ignition. Started the engine, crunched it into gear. They remained glued to the spot, unmoving, boring into him with their eyes. He pulled away fast, his tyres complaining. He screeched by, metres from the men, almost expecting them to pull guns or stop him. But they didn’t. They continued to glare, eyes burning into him. He reached the barrier and told himself to be calm. This was nothing to panic over. He was in his car, his doors were locked, he’d be OK. He wound down his window and swiped his card. The barrier went up. He wound the window rapidly up again, scanning the rear-view mirror. He had lost sight of them.
    The car park was complicated. He had to do almost an entire lap before he could get out, and when he reached the road the traffic was heavy. He was beginning to sweat. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel. He forced his way in . There was still nothing in the rear-view. The men weren’t following. He took a series of deep breaths and fought for calm.
    He worked through reasons and explanations, but came up with nothing. Two men had entered his lecture theatre, waited until the end, and followed him to his car. And then they had simply walked away. It didn’t make sense. Car-jackers or thieves wouldn’t have made it so obvious. James frowned his academic frown, a tightness forming in his temples, an ache at the front of his skull.