‘Oh yeah, they knew that, but this guy who’s done the runner has got them believing in some God complex shite.’
‘Not quite that altruistic,’ Paula butted in. ‘They –’
‘No, but –’ Will tried.
‘But nothing.’ She stopped him again. ‘They make money from other people’s misery and they damn well know it. Who gives a toss if they’re not slicing up prisoners in China to do it, they’re still breaking the law, and people die.’
‘I’m not disagreeing with you, you twat.’
‘Okay, I get the picture,’ Ray intervened. ‘While they were feeling so chatty about the transplants, did they give us information we can work with? Locations, dark net addresses, doctors and nurses they work with, chemists, drugs suppliers, blood banks, a goddamn taxi service?’ He looked at the group gathered in front of him; each face wore a different expression, and while he struggled to place each of his long-standing friends and colleagues as easily as he had in the past, he also found the ability to read them as well as he used to was affected. Great big signals across the face he could spot, but the subtler signs he missed.
He waited them out.
It was Tamsin who spoke.
‘While they don’t want to give the name up of their boss, they are willing to talk to us, but they haven’t given us as much information as we’d like yet. It’s like falling into Alice’s looking-glass. A strange and twisted land. I think we’ll need that extension, to keep questioning them.’
Ray drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered this.
‘We will be able to progress this investigation with their help,’ she added, her tone measured. ‘It’s not like any job I’ve come across before.’
Ray leaned back in his chair. Hands clasped behind his head.
‘I’ll get you the extension, you’ve got more out of them than I expected. Let’s give them the night to think about it and go again in the morning. But get me a lead we can follow up on.’
They stood to leave and acknowledged the task in front of them.
‘I wasn’t saying they did it out of the goodness of their hearts, you idiot,’ Ray heard Will snipe at Paula as they walked out, and then a roar of laughter from her in response, which she followed up with a swift punch in the arm for good measure.
They were a good team and he had let them down in spectacular fashion today. Only they didn’t know it. He would make it right.
And they’d soon know a little more about what had been behind the botched operation that had got Billy killed.
24
The apartment was warm as he walked through the door. They didn’t live together but they did spend most evenings at one or the other’s home. Tonight, Ray walked into Celeste’s beautiful two-bed apartment in Primrose Hill. An affluent area of the city, all right. And as a highly regarded and in-demand defence barrister who had always taken care of her finances, she had managed to buy herself the light and airy place Ray found himself in.
The smell of garlic wafted through the hall from the kitchen and his stomach rumbled in response. Someone had shoved a chicken sandwich on his desk after a run to the shop at some point, but that had been it during a long shift. Gentle humming attempted to keep tune with the song that played on the radio, but tunefulness was not Celeste’s strong point. A smile played across his lips as he stood and listened to her. Her carefree attitude and ability to not care if people laughed were what drew him to her in the first place, and he revelled in it for a minute. This was what he needed after the day he had had. He needed the warmth and comfort of Celeste. He needed to be brought down to a level place, instead of this strung-out feeling he was carrying around.
He remembered the heady days of their new romance. A chance meeting in the Crown Court canteen, where she had been taking a break from the defence of a client on a GBH charge, had led to long evenings of conversations that were full of life considering the two sides of the same coin they worked on, and longer nights when they explored the landscape of each other. He remembered the curve of her neck and the light, slightly floral scent of her perfume, how it would invade his senses while her long blonde hair played with the nerve endings on his skin. She was beautiful. It shone from within, her intelligence and gentleness, and all wrapped in a lithe body he couldn’t get enough of. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get so lucky a second time.
He knew her. Her blonde hair. The way she walked, so tall and upright. She looked after herself with yoga and other fitness classes. He wouldn’t forget her. He could do this without screwing up. All he had to do was remember there would be a disconnect when he saw her. Then they could move on with their evening.
Eventually he walked through to the brightly lit kitchen with high-gloss cream units and a dark-walnut granite worktop. Two large bronze globe light-fittings hung over the dining table, tucked neatly at the far end of the kitchen, providing it with a centrepiece to admire. They were rather stunning. If they were in his place they would probably always have fingerprints on them from the kids.
Right now the kitchen was a mess, and in the middle of it all, still humming along with her back to him, her blonde shoulder-length hair swishing as she moved, was Celeste. Food was splattered up the tiles at the back of the hob; empty tins, meat packaging and used pans were abandoned along the worktop. The tense, itchy feeling that was clawing at him started to melt at the sight in front of him.
Ray coughed, smiling. Celeste jumped, turning around to face him.
‘Hey honey! I didn’t hear you come in.’ She moved quickly to him, flung her arms around him and moved in to kiss him. The floral smell of her perfume. Ray inhaled. Took in this woman who was good to him.
But he didn’t recognise her. He tried to do what he always did. He reminded himself this was Celeste. He knew this happened. But the day had pierced him and he couldn’t get a grasp of his usual routine.
He pulled away. The radio still burbling away in the background. The warmth of the oven wafting dinner towards him, wafting care and attention towards him. He rubbed his face. This was Celeste. The woman he cared for.
‘What? What is it?’ Her voice was concerned. ‘Ray? Is it work? Has it been too much for you?’
He couldn’t confide about his day when he couldn’t even tell her what he was hiding from her. How to leave without hurting her?
‘No. I’m not hungry, that’s all. Why didn’t you ask if I wanted to eat instead of making all this? You’ve wasted your time.’
‘But … I thought –’
‘You didn’t think, Celeste. What if I’d have been even later: you’d have been sat alone. Alone with cold, uneaten food.’ He tried to keep his voice level but he was aware his words alone were hurtful.
‘But you’re not later, you’re here. I’ve made this for you and now you tell me you don’t want it?’
‘It’s been a hell of a day and the last thing I feel like is sitting down to eat nice food when other people can’t.’ Shit.
‘I didn’t think. I just wanted to do something nice.’
Ray turned away from her.
‘Ray!’ She grabbed his shoulder. ‘Don’t push me out.’
‘Stop, Celeste,’ he growled. ‘How are we supposed to build a relationship if you cling to me afraid I’ll walk away?’
He caught the sharp intake of breath. The step back on the hardwood floor.
He lowered his voice. ‘I need some space.’ And walked back out of the door he’d a minute ago been glad to enter.
25
‘Daddy!’ The glee on the girl’s face was clear to see.
‘Alice.’ He picked her up and swung her around on the doorstep. Her bare feet barely missed the door jamb as they swung wide before he caught her up and hitched her onto his hip, wrapped his arms around her and faced the woman with his daughter. Helen. His ex-wife.
‘Ray, what are you doing here this late?’
‘It’s …’ He looked at Alice. He didn’t want to go into it all in front of his dau
ghter.
Helen looked from Alice to Ray. ‘Come in. They both should be in bed by now anyway. If you put them to bed, I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Yay,’ squealed Alice.
‘Thank you,’ Ray mouthed at Helen, and smiled at Alice. ‘Okay, munchkin, let’s get you upstairs to bed, shall we?’
Alice chattered about her day at school as Ray climbed the stairs with her in his arms, his bones reminding him that they were still repairing themselves and didn’t need to lift weights upstairs; but he pushed on and ignored the niggle.
‘Dad!’
‘Matthew.’ Ray smiled back at his son and the look of joy on his face.
‘What’re you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to put you both to bed. So, your teeth are brushed, I take it?’
Their heads bobbed up and down furiously.
He dropped Alice down onto her feet, and his arm howled in relief.
‘Great. Matthew, jump into bed. I’ll tuck Alice in, then I’ll come and say goodnight to you.’
Alice climbed under her pastel pink and purple duvet and snuggled down. ‘Daddy?’
‘Yes, sweetie.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, tried to take in his daughter’s neat little features.
‘Are you all better after the accident?’
He felt a new stab of pain slice through his heart. Sweet Alice, the warm smell of oranges seeping from under her quilt from the bath he knew she’d had before he’d arrived. (The dampness at the ends of her hair, which had tickled his face, had given it away as he carried her upstairs.) The familiar warmth and scent unfurled his heart as he looked down at the face he didn’t know and listened to the question he wouldn’t give her an honest answer to.
‘I’m all fine now. I carried you all the way up the stairs, didn’t I?’
‘Yes?’ A question.
‘You’re right, it’s still a little sore, but that’s to be expected, sweet. I’ll be back to fighting fit before you know it.’ He rubbed her hair. ‘Get some sleep now. I’m going to sit and have a chat with Mummy.’
‘Like you used to?’
‘Like I used to.’ He kissed the top of her head and inhaled the oranges. Hovered over her that extra second to take in the scent of his daughter. To warm his aching heart.
‘Matthew is growing so much.’ Ray perched on the breakfast barstool with the steaming mug in his hands. ‘It seems that I only miss him for a few days and he shoots up an extra inch.’
‘That’s old money, Ray. They shoot up in centimetres now.’ Helen jumped up onto her own stool and looked at him.
He put his mug down and rubbed at his face.
‘What is it, Ray? What brings you to our door at this time in the evening? Looking like shit, no less.’
Ray picked his mug back up, looked at Helen’s face. He couldn’t read it, but he could read the tone in her voice and it wasn’t welcoming.
‘You said you’d be there for me, because of the kids and, I’m sorry if it’s late, but –’
‘Ray, it’s six months after your accident, and I want you to be sane so you can co-parent the children, but that doesn’t mean you can take the piss. What, I’m going to see more of you now than when we were married, is that it?’ She looked out of the kitchen window, her lips pursed. Then, without turning back to him: ‘If I’d have known the way to see more of you when we were married was to get you into a car accident, I’d have driven the car into a wall myself.’
Ray stood. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. It’s just … I thought …’
‘That’s the problem with you, Ray, you don’t think. You never did.’ She rubbed a shoulder, kneading it with her right hand. ‘But I’ve made the drink now, so you can bloody well stay and drink it.’ She faced him. ‘And you can tell me what dragged your sorry arse over here this evening.’
Ray ran a hand through his hair. He never wanted to hurt her. Putting the job first had broken up a relationship that he now knew could probably have lasted and been good if he’d nurtured it. Now, with her being the only person to know his diagnosis, because of the children, because he never wanted to scare them again, he was at risk of putting on her, and he needed to watch that.
‘I’m screwing up.’ He couldn’t tell her all of it though. He couldn’t tell her how his diagnosis was screwing up his life. She didn’t need to hear that. How it was affecting his new relationship. He could imagine how well listening to that would go down. ‘I screwed up and I’m screwing up and I don’t know how to deal with it all and you, of all people, are the only person, other than medical personnel, who knows about some of it.’
Helen took a drink of her own coffee before she spoke. ‘I’ll try not to take that as an insult.’
‘Shit, I didn’t –’
‘You’re here now. Tell me about it. I need you to be of sound mind for the kids.’
Ray dropped his head into his hands.
‘I said it’s okay, Ray. Don’t make a habit of late-night calls, but for some reason that evades me, the kids adore you –’ he grinned at her ‘– and you need to continue to be a good dad for them. So let me have it.’
He wasn’t going to say no. ‘We screwed up today, Hel, and I mean really screwed up.’
‘That job on the news?’
‘Yeah. That civilian that was killed. I could have prevented it if I’d have fought harder for him to not be there.’
‘Really? Who were you fighting against?’
‘Prabhat.’
Helen laughed.
‘What?’
‘You never win a work fight with Prabhat. In fact, you never win a personal fight with him. He likes to get his own way and I imagine the fact that he has rank over you at work would make it incredibly difficult for you to do much of anything, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. If there’s any fault here, it’s on his head.’
Ray needed to hear her say this. He needed an outside opinion. One he trusted.
‘Though …’ She paused, looked him in the eyes, ‘you know I don’t understand why you don’t tell Prabhat about the prosopagnosia. Why you have to keep it all a secret. He could support you. Work could support you. You’re making it all so much more difficult for yourself.’ She paused. ‘And for me.’
‘I’m sorry. But they wouldn’t support me Helen, they’d retire me. I know they would.’ He sighed. He hated to have to explain this to her again. To keep repeating himself. But he needed to keep her onside. Her support was the only support he had, so if she needed to hear it again then he would go through it all for her. ‘The organisation can be quite narrow-minded, but – I thought long and hard about this, as you know, and I thought I would never be in a position where it would cause a problem for me.’ Could he tell her? Admit his mistake? His grave error of judgement. That going back had caused a young man to die, or rather, the killer of that man to walk free and him to be helpless against it. How would this have worked out differently if he’d have retired? He hated to think about it.
She took a drink, then nodded.
‘What else, Ray?’ He couldn’t decipher the look on her face but again he recognised the tone of her voice and this one was the one that said he had to talk properly and honestly or the conversation would be over.
‘I don’t know if I can do this. Live like this. The pressure, the responsibility. I’m screwing it all up.’ It was wrong to lean on her this way, she was his ex, but she was all he had right now, and after the accident and the diagnosis and the fear that had cut through the children, she had promised him that she would do anything she could to help so that Alice and Matthew were on a more stable footing. Her concern was for them.
‘You can do this. You are a strong man, Ray Patrick. You recovered from that crash. Your kids adore you and as they get a little older we’ll explain how as they change they’ll need to help you in recognising them when you first see them; but at the minute they’ll always be in my company so it won’t be a problem. All your days at work won’t be like that, and you’l
l adjust. You’ve only recently gone back. Give yourself some time. Stop being so hard on yourself.’ She looked at him. He couldn’t fathom the look on her face. ‘You haven’t told Celeste yet, have you?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s all too new and fragile.’
He hated to live this way. Not able to connect the faces in front of him with memories of the people. Yes, he still loved. He adored his children and they were an easier connect. No matter that he didn’t remember their faces, he remembered their hair, their smell, their walk, their laugh, the way they talked to him. It was all so much easier because the love was a real natural bond.
But the relationship with Celeste was still fairly new, a bud waiting to bloom, and the strength of feeling wasn’t enough to break the shock-and-fear barrier of not recognising her.
He didn’t want to watch as his relationship with Celeste broke down. He didn’t want it to break down. He had feelings for her that were growing, and if he told her there was something wrong with his head she might run, and he didn’t want to risk that.
‘It’s now that you need to know if she’s in it for you, Ray. If it’s real. You need her more than me.’
‘I know.’ His shoulders slumped even more.
‘But for now I’m here –’ she glared at him as she finished the dregs of the coffee ‘– at a sensible time of day. I need you to be okay.’
‘Helen …’
‘Yeah.’ She put her mug on the counter.
‘I was face to face with the killer today.’
‘Fuck, Ray.’
26
Ray rented a two-bed apartment in Stoke Newington. He’d made the decision to live close to work rather than closer to his children. After all, it was where he spent most of his hours. Or it had been until he’d had the accident and had had to take six months off. The apartment was an attractive, high-ceilinged affair on Burma Road. He’d managed to get it at less than market price from a colleague whose mother had unexpectedly passed away a month before Ray had needed somewhere to live when he separated from Helen. His colleague had said it would do him a favour if Ray took it on, as he wouldn’t have to put it on the market or worry about how other renters might treat the property. So Ray had a nice place and slept on the sofa when the kids came over.
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