by Mick Herron
‘So we do nothing?’
‘Well, I personally don’t plan to do much. But if you think our little gang of Jason Stillborns’ll pass up the chance to mount their own private op, you’ve forgotten what testosterone smells like. I’ve already had Dander in here wanting to know if she can have a gun.’
‘You didn’t give her one!’
‘I was tempted. She was on her way to an anger management class. Imagine her turning up armed.’ His eyes glazed over while the headlines wrote themselves. Then he leaned across and knocked ash from his cigarette into Catherine’s cup. ‘Ta.’
‘I can’t help feeling our lives would be much easier if we could trust the Park,’ she said.
‘Well, I’m not on our Claude’s Christmas list, on account of my knowing about him putting his dick where he shouldn’t. That’s the same Claude whose rock-solid marriage is the stuff of Service legend.’ He leered. ‘He regards his wife as a saint, I gather. Which means she only gets down on her knees when in church, if you catch my drift.’
‘It would be hard not to.’
Something in her word choice triggered a response, but before Lamb could get it out a burst of coughing overtook him – a great heaving earthquake of a fit, heavy enough to rattle not only his own body, but some of those he’d buried. The desk trembled. Catherine watched, wordlessly, and it occurred to her to wonder what she’d do if he died, which didn’t, at that moment, seem out of the question. He could die right there in front of her eyes. Well, a cold voice deep within her suggested – the same voice that kept her from dropping a bottle of wine into her basket during her weekly shop – well: she’d had a boss die on her before. She wasn’t collecting the set or anything, but she supposed she’d get through it if this one died too.
But her natural instincts took over. She returned to her own office and came back with a clean glass, a bottle of water and a box of tissues. She poured him some water, handed him the tissues. He grabbed a handful and buried his face in them, and then, when the heaving started to subside, poured the water in one seamless dazzle down his throat.
Before he’d finished mopping himself, she said, ‘When was the last time you had a check-up?’
‘There’s an annual medical. You know that.’
‘Yes. And when was the last time you took it?’
‘It was a coughing fit. It’s passed.’
‘You smoke too much. You drink too much. I doubt you sleep at night so much as pass out. Do you ever exercise? Don’t even answer that.’
‘My body is a temple,’ said Lamb.
‘Interesting viewpoint,’ Catherine said. ‘So what does that make your lifestyle choices? The Taliban?’
He grunted.
She stood again. ‘So where are we? Something’s going on, we don’t know what, but at least one of us is bang in the middle of it. And meanwhile the country’s on red alert. Does any of this seem familiar to you?’
‘My whole life feels like a repeat most days.’
‘It’s going to feel like a series finale if you don’t start taking some exercise.’ She left him there, and went to put her coat on.
Lamb sat in the dark and poured another drink.
And after a while, lit another cigarette.
5
THE CLUB COULDN’T HAVE been Ho’s choice, they decided, because instead of a soundtrack that was to the brain what the cider press was to an apple, it had a back-to-schooldays vibe going on. They were in a mezzanine booth with a view of the dance floor; a view, too, of Roddy Ho, part of a group on the far side of the open space. He hadn’t seen them, being busy with his companions, plus he was wearing sunglasses. This had nearly tipped the balance in favour of abandoning him to possible death, but River had argued that this wouldn’t be fair on Shirley.
‘Since when have you given a toss what Shirley thinks?’
He shrugged.
The club was in Stockwell. After being dropped at its door, Ho had marched up and down the pavement for forty-seven minutes, texting. Louisa had circled the block a few times, but he hadn’t clocked her; she’d dropped River at a nearby junction, where he’d have been spotted easily if Roddy had shown even the mildest interest in his surroundings. If I wanted to kill you, River thought, you’d be dead already. But this probably wasn’t true: there’d been many previous occasions on which River had wanted to kill Roderick Ho, and his innate sense of not wanting to go to prison had always held him back.
Eventually another taxi had arrived and disgorged about sixteen people, one of them a young, attractive, possibly Chinese woman, who suffered Roddy to kiss her on the cheek, and briefly held his hand while he paid first the taxi fare, then the entrance fee at the club. By the time River and Louisa had regrouped and made their own way inside, the gang had found a table and were waiting for Roddy to return from the bar, to which he had to make three trips. This kept him busy enough that he didn’t see them coming in, though the shades couldn’t have helped.
‘You reckon that’s the fabled girlfriend?’ Louisa asked.
‘Her name’s Kim.’
‘Actually, yes, he may have mentioned that. You think he ordered her off the internet?’
‘I’d guess he made her in his basement, except she looks too well put together.’
Because they were on an op they were drinking mineral water, or would have been, but it cost so much they decided to have beer instead: if they were going to be scalped, they might as well feel some benefit. River had texted Shirley to say where they were. She hadn’t replied, but that didn’t surprise them: Shirley could be pissed off for days after an AFM.
‘Though she’s been less … disruptive lately,’ River said. ‘More muted.’
‘I think she’s off the marching powder.’
‘She misses Marcus.’
Louisa didn’t want that conversation. She looked around. ‘Do this often?’
‘Clubbing? Please.’
She eyed him critically. ‘You brush up okay. Or might do. I’ve never actually seen it happen.’
‘We’re supposed to be on surveillance.’
‘We’re supposed to be in a nightclub. Chatting, drinking, whatever. There’s a girl over there giving you the eye, by the way.’
He turned to see.
‘Gotcha.’
‘Thanks. You think somebody’s gonna try and whack Ho?’
‘Not in here, probably. Or not a professional. A punter might.’
‘He seems to have plenty of friends.’
‘He’s buying plenty of drinks. There’s a difference.’
Kim, if that’s who she was, was now dancing with one of the other boys in the group, and Ho was watching them, a tight smile on his face.
Louisa said, ‘Ah, that’s sad, never mind.’
‘Why would anyone want to blow up a pool full of penguins?’
She’d been wondering that too. ‘The Watering Hole,’ she said. ‘That’s what it was called.’
‘You think it was some madman?’
‘Can’t think of a sane motive.’
‘Maybe there’s a link with Abbotsfield.’
Louisa couldn’t see how. ‘Unless something just infects the air. Some kind of bloodlust, where you don’t even care what it is that’s bleeding.’
Shirley was suddenly there. ‘Did you get me a beer?’
‘No,’ Louisa explained. ‘Because we didn’t know when you’d get here, and we didn’t feel like buying you a drink.’
Shirley squeezed onto the banquette, where she could share the view. She took in Ho – still oblivious to their presence – and the direction of his gaze. ‘Who’s the cock candy?’
‘That would be Kim.’
‘Ho is dicking that? Someone’s being scammed.’
‘How was the AFM?’ River asked.
‘Over.’
‘Maybe you could celebrate by getting a round in,’ Louisa suggested.
‘I’m a girl. Girls don’t buy drinks in nightclubs.’
They both looked at Rive
r.
‘Oh, great.’
‘We won’t let anyone kill him while you’re gone.’
‘Don’t do me any favours.’
He went to fetch more beers, and by the time he got back Louisa was telling Shirley her idea for a TV show, which would open with a view of Tom Hiddleston walking down a long, long corridor, shot from behind.
River waited. ‘Then what?’ he asked at last.
But the women had misted over, and didn’t hear him.
Eventually Kim stopped dancing and sat next to Ho. The view became restricted, with the dance floor fully occupied, and the music grew louder, battling with the aggregated noise of mating rituals. River watched these with the air of a man trying to remember a long-discarded habit.
‘Taking notes?’ Louisa asked.
‘When women touch their hair it’s a sign of sexual attraction, right?’
‘Can be. But some men just make women feel like they’ve got nits.’
Shirley said, ‘He’s leaving.’
He’d played it cool. Chicks like Kim, his girlfriend, they kept you on your toes: knowing you were alpha, they felt compelled to grade the other males too. He’d seen a documentary on the subject. It was about turtles, but same difference. He’d had a laugh with the other guys anyway, and bought a few drinks, and now he was heading home in a taxi, Kim right next to him – going back to his place – and once she’d finished texting she’d probably snuggle up, get them both in the mood. Not that he needed help. Fact was, he was in the mood anytime Kim was near, though the stresses of her job – she worked in retail – meant she was usually too fatigued or headachey. But still. Here she was.
The Rodster getting into gear now. This was going to be oh so smooth.
‘Who you texting, babes?’
‘… Huh?’
‘Who you texting?’
A streetlight they were passing under caught her face in its glow.
‘… No one.’
They were about ten minutes from home. The driver glanced in the rear-view and his gaze met Roddy’s. Yeah, thought Roddy. You wish. He put a hand on Kim’s shoulder and felt her tense. Excitement. You and me both, babes. He started planning the order of events: bit of mood music, a celebratory drink. He had a bottle of fizz in the fridge for exactly this situation. It wasn’t vintage, or hadn’t been when he bought it, but it would hit the spot.
Roddy Ho, Roddy Ho, riding through the glen …
Bring it on.
Louisa kept the taxi in view the whole journey. It wasn’t the hardest tail job in the world, particularly as it was going back the way they’d come earlier. Getting their collective heads round what they’d seen, Roderick Ho heading home in a taxi with a woman, was a trickier business.
‘What the hellfuck is going on?’ Shirley asked.
‘Roddy’s taking a girl home,’ River said, in a stunned tone.
‘I know. That’s why I’m asking. He’s a brand ambassador for twattery. How come he’s pulled?’
‘We knew he had a girlfriend,’ Louisa said. ‘He’s mentioned it a couple of times.’
‘Yeah,’ objected Shirley. ‘But I didn’t think she actually existed. Let alone looked like that.’
A brief poll they’d taken had Kim an eight and a half, possibly a nine.
‘Did you see her skin? It’s fucking flawless.’
‘Are you switching sides again?’ asked River. ‘You were mooning about Tom Hiddleston’s bum an hour ago.’
Shirley didn’t dignify that with a response. It was up to Louisa to explain: ‘Tom Hiddleston’s bum transcends gender preference.’
River said, ‘Anyway, maybe we’re missing the point. Maybe she’s the one trying to kill Ho. In which case, going home with him is part of her plan.’
‘I so want that to be true,’ said Shirley.
‘Why wait so long?’ Louisa said. ‘They’ve been going out for months. If I was Roddy Ho’s girlfriend, I’d have killed him long before now.’
‘Maybe she’s been using him for something.’
Shirley gave a low, unhappy moan.
‘Christ,’ said River. ‘Not that. I meant using him for the only thing he’s good at.’
‘Hacking,’ said Louisa.
‘So it is a scam,’ Shirley said, brightening.
‘Makes more sense than the alternative,’ said River. ‘Which is that Ho does, in actual fact, have a girlfriend who looks like that.’
‘Well if he does, I wish I hadn’t saved his life.’
‘Nearly there,’ said Louisa. ‘Taxi’s slowing down.’
‘Here we go, babes,’ said Ho, paying the fare.
‘Actually, Roddy, could you bung an extra twenty on?’
‘… I … Twenty? A tip’s a tip, but—’
‘No, I need him to take me home, that’s all.’ Kim smiled. ‘Tomorrow’s a big day for me. Huge. I need a night’s sleep. Twenty should cover it. But make it twenty-five, yeah?’
‘… I … Yeah, babes. Sure. But I thought …’
‘What did you think, Roddy?’
‘… Nothing, babes.’
He fumbled for more notes while Kim told the driver where she needed to go. When she’d finished, she put a hand under Ho’s chin and drew his face close to hers. ‘You were so damn … sexy back there, Roddy. When you were watching me dance. I swear, I was wet.’
‘… Ngh …’
She kissed him long and hard, then gave him a little push. ‘Go on. Meter’s running.’
He stepped out of the taxi like a man emerging from a train wreck, then looked back when she called his name:
‘Roddy?’
‘Yeah, babes?’
‘Goodbye.’
‘… G’night, Kim.’
The taxi stayed where it was while Roddy, after a brief struggle, removed his keys from his trouser pocket, and Kim waved at him until he was through his front door.
Then it pulled away.
‘There is a God,’ said Shirley, watching this from Louisa’s car, a little way up the street.
In the taxi, Kim tapped on the dividing glass and said to the driver, ‘Actually, I need to go somewhere else,’ and gave him a new address. Then she took her phone out again, and instead of texting made a call.
‘He’s home,’ she said. ‘Alone, yes.’
She seemed about to end it there, but changed her mind.
‘And listen … make it quick? He’s harmless.’
She put her phone in her bag, and let the taxi carry her off.
‘So now what?’ said Louisa.
‘He’s home. Nobody tried to kill him. I vote we call it a night,’ said River, stifling a yawn.
‘Lightweight,’ said Shirley.
‘No, he’s right,’ said Louisa. ‘What else do we do? Sit and watch Ho’s front door?’
‘Just because he’s back doesn’t mean he’s safe,’ Shirley said, with a taut note in her voice that hadn’t been there earlier.
‘But nothing we’ve seen suggests he’s in any danger, either.’
‘Someone tried to whack him this morning.’
‘We remember.’
‘If I hadn’t been there, he’d be dead.’
‘That doesn’t mean you’re responsible for him from now on,’ River said. ‘That only happens in films.’
‘Besides,’ said Louisa, ‘he pretty clearly didn’t notice it himself.’
‘It fucking happened.’
‘Yeah, okay, but—’
‘No, not fucking okay. It happened. And until we know why—’
‘Shirley—’
‘—then it could still happen again. And if it happens to him, it could happen to any one of us.’
‘That’s not strictly—’
‘Fuck off, Cartwright.’
‘Okay.’
Louisa said, ‘Shirley, you have a point. Sure. But three of us, in one car? Is that any way to run a surveillance?’
‘You’re trying to get me out of your car?’
‘I’m saying
we can’t take shifts if we’re all crammed in here. There’s no chance of any of us getting any sleep. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend to be awake all night.’
‘So … So what are you suggesting?’
‘That we need a plan,’ Louisa said. ‘And here it is. We take shifts. The best surveillance point’s that bus stop on the corner. Bound to be night buses on this route, so waiting won’t look suspicious. First relief’s at two, then five. The others kip in the car. Okay?’
‘Here in the road?’
‘No. I’ll park further down, past the shops. Won’t be so conspicuous.’
Shirley said, ‘We gonna draw straws or what?’
‘I’m moving the car. No offence, but nobody else drives this baby. And River’s had two beers, so he’ll be useless until he’s had some kip. So …’
‘So I’m first up.’
‘Well, this whole thing was your idea.’
Shirley scowled. ‘You’d better not be late.’
Contrary to most approved covert surveillance techniques, she allowed the door to slam behind her when she got out.
Louisa said, ‘No, really. Happy to help,’ and waited until Shirley was halfway to the bus stop before starting the engine.
‘You were trying to get her out of your car, weren’t you?’ River said.
‘Yeah. Fuck her. I’m going to bed. Want a lift?’
‘Please.’
They left.
Roderick Ho let himself into his house, turned the hall lamp on, then leaned against the wall. ‘Yeah, course, babes,’ he murmured. Big day tomorrow. Need your beauty sleep. Best not come in, because you’d not get much of that in the Rodster’s bed.
You rock my world. He’d said that to her a time or two. You rock my world. Chicks liked it when you quoted poetry; it made them feel special. And Kim deserved to feel special, but still, he wished she’d stay the night once in a while. Because he wasn’t ashamed to admit this, but he actually, you know, loved the girl. His days of playing the field were over. But he wished she’d stay the night after another evening of letting him pay for taxis and clubs and drinks and taxis.
Still, though. Getting out there, being seen, everyone knowing Kim was with him: yeah.
Roddy Ho, Roddy Ho, manliest of men …
That was the tune on everybody’s lips.