The Silver Mark

by Sarah Painter

  Fleet nodded to show his understanding. ‘You won’t get credit, either, though. I thought you wanted to work this case so that you could raise your profile, get criminal case work rather than domestic stuff?’

  Lydia shrugged. ‘Can’t be helped. You can pass stuff to Ian, but MIT can’t know it came from you. We’re connected, now, and people might think I’m involved in the case.’

  ‘We’re connected?’ Fleet’s mouth twitched at the corners.

  ‘Don’t get excited.’

  Fleet went to take another sip but Lydia got there first, stealing a couple of mouthfuls of foamy beer before giving him back the glass.

  ‘So, let me get this right,’ he said. ‘You think that Maria killed Yas Bishop. That she gained entry to the house easily because Yas knew her as JRB’s lawyer? And you are basing this on… What, exactly?’

  Lydia closed her eyes. ‘I could sense the Silver Family at her house.’ She opened them, ready to see disbelief, maybe fear, in Fleet’s eyes. Instead he just nodded.

  ‘But why would Maria Silver want Robert Sharp dead? And in such a public way? Who was that message intended for?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lydia said. ‘The mysterious JRB, again? They’re clients of the Silvers. If Sharp was ripping them off in some way, perhaps JRB expected their hotshot lawyers to step in and make an example of him.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem like the obvious place to go.’

  ‘If the Silver Family are anything like the Crows, then JRB wouldn’t have to ask them to take action like this.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Let’s say Sharp was screwing their client. That reflects badly on their power, their influence. Alejandro Silver wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of him. It’s a matter of pride.’

  Fleet tilted his head. ‘I can see that. But if Maria ordered the hit on Sharp, what makes you think she would get her hands dirty with Yas Bishop? It’s a big step from ordering a hit to carrying one out.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Lydia replied. ‘What if Maria didn’t want her dad to find out about Yas? Maybe the statue was a mistake on Maria’s side and she was covering her own tracks.’

  ‘So, JRB were looking after Sharp. Then he messed up somehow and they wanted him out of the picture. The Silvers sort that out, but it transpires that the reason he went off the rails was because he had a crazy-making enchanted statue that shouldn’t have been on the open market at all. How does that link to Maria?’

  Lydia slumped. ‘I don’t know. And I can’t ask Guillaume Chartes, the silver shop guy who sold the statue, because the place has disappeared.’

  ‘You said that,’ Fleet said. ‘Have you been back since?’

  ‘It was like it was never there. The shop next door had never heard of Guillaume and said the place had been empty for months.’

  ‘It’s possible she was lying. Messing with you.’

  ‘True,’ Lydia said. She felt like an idiot. Of course the woman had been lying. Lydia had been so thrown, she hadn’t questioned it. She wasn’t sure what it said about her psyche that she had been happy to accept a shop had vanished into thin air, disappeared from history. It was a hazard of growing up a Crow, she supposed. She was used to accepting the fantastical. But still, she was going to have to watch that tendency if she wanted to make progress as an investigator.

  Fleet had his notebook open and was scribbling things down. ‘The statue went to Sharp via Yas Bishop. And we think it altered her behaviour, in the short time she had it. And then it had a bigger effect on Sharp, because he had it much longer.’

  ‘You’re really running with that theory, aren’t you?’ Lydia still couldn’t believe it. The relief of his acceptance and belief was overwhelming.

  ‘You’re not crazy,’ Fleet said, not looking up from his notebook. ‘Do you mind if I come with you to re-cover some ground, though? A second conversation in the vaults. And maybe a trip to JRB? An in-person visit will be harder to dodge.’

  ‘Won’t you get into trouble for that?’

  ‘Won’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Lydia said. ‘Most definitely.’ Then, because Fleet wasn’t rearing away from her as if she were deranged, she leant across the table and kissed him.

  * * *

  The Old Bailey was built on the site of the infamous Newgate Prison and some of the bricks from the medieval prison had been used in the current building. Waste not, want not, even in the finest architecture of the city. Its grand facade, faced with Portland stone and topped with a grand dome echoing the one on St Paul’s cathedral nearby, was designed to inspire reverence. And obedience. A shaft of sunlight caught the gold statue of Lady Justice which presided over the court, scales of justice in one hand and the sword of retribution held aloft in the other, pointing toward heaven. Unlike most representations of justice, the figure watching over the Old Bailey didn’t wear a blindfold. Lydia had always supposed it was because no self-respecting Londoner would wander about with their eyes closed.

  Maria was hurrying out of the old court, still in her horse hair wig and black gown. Instead of scales and a sword, she was carrying files and a takeaway coffee. Lydia stepped in front of the barrister as she turned onto the pavement. ‘Quick word?’

  Maria didn’t break stride, her heels striking the pavement with a sharp click-clack. She spared a single glance in Lydia’s direction. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be on a tight leash?’

  Lydia fell into step alongside. ‘Not really my style. Besides, I need to talk to you about Yas Bishop.’

  ‘Look at you,’ Maria said, her lips thin. ‘Running around the city, playing detective. It would be quite sweet, really. In a ten year old. A Harriet the Spy kind of deal. In someone approaching thirty it’s just embarrassing. Poor old Charlie,’ Maria shook her head. ‘You must be such a disappointment. I know he had high hopes…’ Maria broke off to look both ways before crossing a road, a taxi swooped past and she picked up speed again. Lydia couldn’t help but be impressed at her speed in four-inch stilettos. Her calf muscles must be like rocks.

  ‘You would know all about disappointing your family,’ Lydia said. ‘I don’t suppose Alejandro is very forgiving of failure. Your lot are all about high achievements, aren’t you? Straight As at school, first-place trophies, all of that rubbish.’

  ‘Spoken like a true C-grade student,’ Maria said.

  ‘Fun as this is,’ Lydia said. ‘I was more interested in what you were doing on the third of this month? I know what you lawyers are like, you’ll have it down in a schedule somewhere. You have to know so that you can bill by the hour.’

  ‘By the minute, darling,’ Maria said. ‘I know what you’re asking and why. That’s the date Ms Yas Bishop was found dead at her home. Suspected foul play, I believe.’

  ‘And yet you don’t seem concerned. Despite the fact that Yas Bishop was an employee of one of your most important clients. There is a link between the two of you and Yas let her killer into her house, suggesting a personal relationship. You should be concerned, or interested at least. Or is the inbreeding finally catching up on your family? It’s tragic when mental capacity just degrades like that.’

  Lydia’s superior tone was doing its work and there was the smallest crack in Maria’s breezy demeanour. She slowed her pace and said: ‘I’m not concerned because I had a hospital appointment on the morning of the third. And I believe it is the morning which is of interest to the police.’

  ‘How exactly would you know that?’

  ‘Word gets around. It’s all a matter of who you know and what favours they owe. Plus,’ Maria shot Lydia a smug smile, ‘everyone wants me as a friend. Everyone with any sense, that is.’

  ‘You are useful, I’ll give you that,’ Lydia said. ‘Speedy, too. Is there some kind of emergency? Are you training for the Olympics?’

  Maria stopped and faced Lydia. ‘What do you want? One word to my father and all hell will break loose. A Crow harassing a Silver? It’s not smart. And you know it.’
<
br />   A man in gown and black suit, files under one arm, swore as he had to abruptly swerve past them on the pavement. There was a steady stream of legal types in this area, rushing to and from the Old Bailey, the Royal Courts of Justice, and the Chambers housed behind high walls, where cases were given. Those with the knowledge and background, the legal language and training, the special costumes and the academic papers, they all belonged here. Barristers and solicitors and legal flunkeys flowed through the veins and arteries of the London legal system, just as they had for hundreds of years. They were in Maria’s world and she was wearing her suit of armour. And she knew it.

  What Maria didn’t realise was that she was surrounded by a silvered aura, and that it was perfectly visible to Lydia. Looking past the gown and the white bands and the wig, Lydia concentrated on the power behind the clothes, trying not to alert Maria to her scrutiny. Maria’s energy was nothing like as strong as that she had felt in Alejandro’s presence. Lydia wondered how aware Maria was of her father’s power, whether she knew anything about the Silver Family cup. She licked her lips. ‘Are you after another trophy? I know how much you like a shiny bauble. Do you often shop down in the vaults?’

  Maria’s face stayed fixed, the smug smile didn’t slip, but Lydia felt a tremor in the Silver energy. A tiny ripple of discontent. She pressed on. ‘Was it hard to kill Yas? Reading about murder has got to be different to carrying it out. Was there more blood than you expected?’

  Maria’s smile was back to full wattage. She turned and began walking toward the entrance to one of the Inns of Court. Lydia knew she didn’t have long left. Once they reached it, Maria could slip through the archway and lose Lydia in the warren beyond. ‘Why did JRB want Robert Sharp dead? I know you ordered the hit on him, but not why. What had he done to piss off your clients so badly? And is that a service you often provide for your top clients?’

  ‘What wild accusations you are making,’ Maria said. Her voice was steady and she looked utterly calm and confident again. It made Lydia want to scream. She knew that this woman had ordered a man’s death, on the orders of somebody else, but still. And then she had casually cut the throat of a woman who had done nothing except have the bad luck to handle a magical object that should never have been in public circulation. As far as Lydia knew, Maria hadn’t even attempted to sort out the mess in any other way. Which suggested Maria felt beyond the law, beyond the usual morals of mere mortals. ‘You’ve been doing this job for too long,’ Lydia said. ‘You think you’re invincible.’

  ‘I’m untouchable,’ Maria said. ‘Which is much the same thing. I’m too valuable and I’m too good at my job. Nobody wants to see me on the other side of the law because I’m too useful right where I am.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Lydia said, abruptly changing tack. ‘I’m not going to risk you running to Alejandro and I’m not about to piss off Uncle Charlie. I’m on my last warning with him, as it is. And I don’t want trouble between the Silvers and the Crows.’

  They were almost at the archway and Lydia made herself sound as frustrated as possible. It wasn’t difficult. ‘I just want to know, for my own satisfaction, that I was on the right lines. I can’t work out why you would want her dead. I mean, Yas was a nobody, as far as I can tell.’

  ‘Nobodies can still talk,’ Maria said. ‘And when they start behaving erratically, they quickly become liabilities. You have to be able to predict behaviour, that’s what makes the difference between most people and those who are truly successful. If you know how people are going to react, what they’re going to do, you can manoeuvre yourself accordingly.’

  ‘And you knew Yas was a big enough threat to your reputation to warrant a death sentence?’

  ‘I said no such thing,’ Maria said. She stopped walking and leaned in close, giving Lydia a blast of her perfume. It smelled heavy and expensive, with citrus, cedar and cloves, but was no match for the sharp Silver that was hitting the back of Lydia’s throat, filling her senses with a cool metallic sensation. Maria’s eyes lit up and Lydia wondered if it was in response to her feeling of natural superiority or whether she was, somehow, aware of the effect she was having on Lydia. ‘But if I did, if I acknowledged that I played a part in Ms Bishop’s demise, there would be absolutely nothing you could do about it.’ Maria straightened. ‘Take this as a valuable lesson in learning your limits.’

  Chapter Twenty

  As the first on scene, even in his off-duty capacity, Fleet was able to get decent access to the Yas Bishop murder enquiry. As he said, there were plenty of rules about the flow and containment of information, but cops were still cops. They talked to each other.

  ‘No CCTV, unfortunately,’ he reported back to Lydia. ‘No suspects. No prints from the scene.’

  ‘What about Maria Silver?’

  Fleet pulled a face. ‘An anonymous tip with no supporting information or evidence gets filed under ‘unlikely’. They’ll get to it, but given her legal skills and well-connected family, her name is going straight to the bottom of the action list. Top brass will want a solid reason to drag her in. You’re sure it was her?’

  ‘Ninety-nine per cent. I told you, I could sense Silver at Yas’s house.’

  ‘Could it have been another Silver? Isn’t it more likely that someone like Maria would enlist someone else to do her dirty work?’

  ‘When I confronted her she practically admitted it.’

  Fleet went still. ‘You confronted a woman you suspect of murder? On your own?’

  ‘It was the middle of the day in a public place. I’m not a complete idiot.’

  Lydia could see Fleet’s mind working. ‘On the bright side, you might have spooked her. Make her do something daft. If she did the actual killing herself. Which I still find hard to imagine…’

  ‘She would take care of it herself,’ Lydia insisted. ‘She couldn’t ask someone else in the Family, or one of their professional contacts. She wouldn’t want to risk it getting back to her father. Trust me, that fear is a powerful motivator. Maria would think that doing it alone would be safest. No collaboration means nobody to rat on you, nobody to let you down.’

  Fleet’s mouth twitched. ‘I think you might be speaking from the heart, there.’

  ‘There will be evidence,’ Lydia ploughed on, ignoring Fleet’s snark. ‘She must have got blood on her clothes. No way to avoid it.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll panic, now that she knows you suspect. If she’s hidden her bloody clothes somewhere, maybe she’ll try to get rid of them now.’

  ‘I love that you think that, but there is no way Maria Silver is concerned about what I know or suspect. You should have seen her.’ Lydia felt the sick rage rise up again. ‘She thinks she’s untouchable.’

  ‘And she’s been trying criminal cases her whole adult life, she must know a hundred ways to get away with murder.’ Fleet tapped his lip. ‘Mind you, theory is one thing. The physical reality quite another.’

  Lydia nodded absently. There was something tugging at the edge of her thoughts. She pulled her computer onto her lap and opened the research tabs she had bookmarked when looking into Maria Silver’s career history.

  Fleet looked over her shoulder. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

  * * *

  Lydia spent the next hour reading through every case she could find, following links to news stories and follow-up pieces. Lots of Maria’s cases involved corporate law and were so dense that Lydia felt her mind actively rebelling against the sentences. ‘This makes no sense,’ she said, at one point.

  Fleet had joined her in research-mode and he rubbed a hand over his face. ‘This is why they make the big bucks. It’s a boredom tariff. Any joy?’

  ‘She doesn’t really represent murderers. At least, not openly. Her clients are dodgy in other ways. Take this one.’ Lydia angled the screen to show Fleet. Aden Naser had been up on cartel charges and Maria had, miraculously, got him eighty hours of community service. Fleet sat forward, energised. ‘That’s exactly the kind of thing.’

&n
bsp; ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘There has to be more to it than just Maria’s keen legal skills. He must have made a deal. Unless the evidence collapsed at trial. That happens. But if it was a deal, he must have been giving up something worse. Give me a minute.’

  Fleet stood up and paced while he made a call. Lydia heard him asking for a file, laughing with whoever was on the other end. ‘Yeah, mate. I know. Consider the slate cleared.’

  ‘You pulled in a favour?’ Lydia said.

  ‘Got to. Can’t just go poking around in files these days without a good reason. Everything is logged. It’s a right pain in the arse.’

  ‘Was it a valuable favour?’

  ‘Helped him move into his flat.’

  Lydia looked at him for a moment. ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘Course.’

  ‘And you’re not going to tell me what the real favour was?’

  ‘I don’t want to tarnish your view of me as squeaky-clean upstanding member of the modern policing community.’

  ‘Right,’ Lydia said, ready to continue, but Fleet’s phone beeped.

  He tapped for a moment and then came to sit next to Lydia, showing her the open file. ‘Naser made a deal with the CPS. He gave evidence in another trial. A murder case. Hang on… John Owen. Hit man for over thirty years, got life last year after a trial for killing a gang boss in Liverpool. Currently serving in Belmarsh.’

  ‘Naser gave evidence?’

  ‘Yeah, most likely he’d been a client at some point or knew him in a professional capacity, but needs must… CPS obviously thought the trade was worth it. You’d be surprised at how often cases don’t even come to trial if they’re not deemed strong enough.’

  Lydia was already Googling John Owen. She skimmed the press reports, feeling very happy that John Owen was safely behind bars. Dodgy deal or not, a truly nasty character was off the streets and serving time for his heinous crimes. A sentence snagged Lydia’s brain and she went back up a paragraph to find it. After reading it and digging a little deeper, she posed a question to Fleet. ‘You know how John Owen evaded prosecution for so many years?’