That was just for starters. They’d need an itinerary; where the Russian was staying, and the route from there to here. Who was catering. Drivers. They’d need to study Webb’s notes and do extra digging, because Webb was trustworthy as a snake. And they’d need sweepers to check for bugs, and maybe a techie to provide interference, though she doubted parabolic eavesdropping was possible. The nearest high building was a dwarf by comparison.
Min touched her shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Jumped-up Russkie oligarch is all. Coming over here. Buying our football teams. It’s babysitting, like Webb said.”
She knew. But Russkie oligarchs weren’t the most popular breed on the planet, and there was always the possibility something would go wrong. And underneath that, a very faint glimmer of possibility that everything would go right.
It swam into her mind again that this could be a test. And alongside it swam a creepier notion: What if a successful outcome resulted in a single ticket home; a desk at Regent’s Park for one of them but not the other? If it were hers, would she take it? If it were Min’s, would he? He might. She couldn’t blame him. She might too.
All the same, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. We’re at work, that’s all.”
Min said, “Sure. Sorry,” but there was nothing snarky in his tone.
He wandered towards the doors, through which lay the lifts, the other suite, the stairwell. Louisa, in his wake, veered off into the kitchen. It was spotless, unused, gleaming, and fully equipped with a fridge that was restaurant-sized, but empty. Fixed to the wall was a friendly red fire extinguisher; next to it, behind a glass cover, a fire blanket and a small axe. She opened bare cupboards, closed them again. Returned to the big room and its windows, through which she could now see an air-ambulance, seemingly stationary over Central London, though possibly swinging like a randy divorcee from the point of view of those it carried. And she thought again of the black swans, and the huge and improbable events they’d lent their name to. It was only afterwards you knew you’d encountered one. The helicopter was still hovering there when she went to find Min.
Ho didn’t like having his space invaded. Especially not by River Cartwright, who was one of those who ignored the likes of Roderick Ho except when he needed something only the likes of Roderick Ho could provide. Technological competence, for instance. Competence was generally beyond Cartwright. For a while, Ho had used a CCTV still of the King’s Cross chaos as a screensaver, until Louisa Guy suggested River might break his elbows if he found out.
But Catherine Standish was with him, and while Ho didn’t precisely like Standish, he couldn’t put his finger on a reason for disliking her. Since this put her in a select category, he decided to see what they wanted before telling them he was busy.
River made a space on the spare desk, and perched on its corner. Catherine pulled out a chair and sat. “How are you today, Roddy?”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. She’d called him that before. He said to River, “Don’t move my stuff.”
“I haven’t moved anything.”
“My stuff on the desk there, you just rearranged it. I’ve got everything sorted. You put it out of order, I won’t be able to find it.”
River opened his mouth to make a number of points, but Catherine caught his eye. He changed direction. “Sorry.”
Catherine said, “Roddy, we were wondering if you could do us a favour.”
“What sort of favour?”
“It involves your area of expertise.”
“If you want broadband,” Ho said, “maybe you should just think about paying for it.”
“That would be like asking a plastic surgeon to do ingrown toenails,” Catherine said.
“Yeah,” said River. “Or getting an architect to wash your windows.”
Ho regarded him suspiciously.
“Or a lion tamer to feed your cat,” River added.
The look Catherine flashed him indicated that he wasn’t helping.
“The other day, in Lamb’s office,” she began, but Ho wasn’t having it.
“No way.”
“I hadn’t finished.”
“You don’t need to. You want to know what Lamb wanted, right?”
“Just a clue.”
“He’d kill me. And he could do it, too. He’s killed people before.”
“That’s what he wants you to think,” River said.
“You’re saying he hasn’t?”
“I’m saying he’s not allowed to kill staff. Health and safety.”
“Yeah, right. But I’m not talking
“He doesn’t need to find out,” she said.
“He always finds out.”
River said, “Roddy?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever. A few months ago, we did a good thing. Yes?”
“Maybe,” Ho said, suspiciously. “So what?”
“That was teamwork.”
“It was kind of teamwork,” Ho admitted.
“So—”
“The kind where I had all the ideas. You did a lot of running around, I remember.”
River bit back his first response. “We all play to our strengths,” he said. “My point is, for a while there, Slough House worked. Know what I mean? We played as a team, and it worked.”
“So now we do it again,” Ho said.
