Devon, who’d watched the slow horses peeling away in pairs, thought: Okay, hard to know whether to sound an alarm or raise a white flag. Louisa was good, and Cartwright knew which way was up—even if he generally approached it from the wrong angle—but the others were an unknown quantity, and Slough House’s rep suggested they might not be clear which planet they were on. Still, they were here because of an imagined threat to Judd, not to do him harm. And also, he’d just bought another zero beer. There was an old guy wandering down the alley, probably lost or looking for a place to piss, and Devon was watching him when someone said, “Devon Welles?”
Not a face Devon recognised, but he placed the profession no problem. Cop.
Except not cop but Dog, as his next words indicated:
“There’s a picture of you on the glory wall back in the Park.”
He was young for a Dog, who generally had miles on the clock, but young came cheap and Devon didn’t need reminding about budget restrictions. He said, “I’d have thought they’d replaced that by now.”
Young Dog said, “Are you kidding? They still count it when doing diversity stats. You private now?”
He nodded. “And having a beer. Are you working?”
“Nah. Off duty.” But his eyes glanced at the phone in his hand, then shifted towards the club over the road. One of those eyes was sporting a technicolour badge.
Devon thought: Oh-kayyy. Slow horses in the picture, and the Dogs are off the leash. He should collect Judd before things got tasty.
“You worked with Emma Flyte, yeah? Her picture’s on the wall too.”
He nodded.
“Mate, I’d have given that a go.”
Devon was about to reply—there were a hundred options—when the sound of breaking glass tripped over the road: a heartfelt smash, not a dropped beer mug. “To be continued,” he said, but young Dog was already history, or geography anyway: over the road, down that alleyway, seeking the source of the commotion.
Of course her phone rang then. Of course it did.
“I’m busy,” said Ash.
“Too busy to speak to your mother?”
Well, yes.
“Because it sounds like you’re on the toilet. And—”
“Mu-um!”
“Well you can’t pretend to be working, can you? Even if it wasn’t already mid-evening.”
Which it only was if you went to bed at like nine.
“And the reason I’m calling, the weather is so nice, your father and I have decided—”
(You mean
“—to throw a garden party on Saturday, and I’m giving you plenty of notice so—”
(You are
“—you can invite your colleagues. Especially your boss. Something you’ll notice when you’re older, the more responsibility they have, the more polite and considerate people are. They make nice guests.”
“I don’t
“Ashley, why must you always make difficulties? All I want is to meet your friends.”
There was scuffling outside, where Shirley and Roddy had been skulking. Someone had joined them, a voice Ash didn’t recognise.
“I don’t think you want my colleagues at your party, Mum.” Standing, Ash fastened her jeans with her free hand and opened the cubicle door. “They can be a bit—raucous.”
“Raucous?” Her mother laughed. “Oh, Ashley. Your father and I don’t mind high spirits. When we were your age—well. Tomfoolery doesn’t begin to cover it. Once, I remember—”
A body crashed through the window, the heavy slap of its landing accompanied by the tinselly laughter of breaking glass, as a thousand splinters showered down like audible confetti.
Through the jagged frame of the broken window, Shirley and Roddy stared in at the wreckage.
“Wasn’t me,” said Roddy.
“—Ashley?”
“I’ll call you back,” said Ash.
When River saw CC coming through the door, his first thought was:
The second was,
This dangled loosely in CC’s hand, as if he hoped not to be associated with it.
Sid said, “CC? We know what’s going on.”
No we don’t, thought River. We just know what the result’s supposed to be.
“We know Taverner sent you, and what she wants you to do. Which means there’s no point doing it now. You can’t get away with it.”
CC said, “Ms. Baker. You’ve had a busy day.”
“We all have.”
“And River. I’m sorry I misled you about your grandfather. About what was in his box-safe. It was a necessary lie. I mean it felt necessary at the time.”
“I understand.” He was keeping both eyes on the gun, while trying to make it look like he wasn’t. “Funny thing is, I still don’t know what he was really hiding.”
“Something too important to be buried forever. He was hiding it because he knew it would be found.”
“He was a great one for thinking round corners.”
Someone made a noise like a walrus demanding attention. He’d almost forgotten Judd was there. Guns do that: They suck up all the scrutiny in the room.
Judd said, “This? This ridiculous . . . figure is an assassin?”
“Not helping.”
“One of you take that from him. And then all of you get out of my way.”
