“You’ve infiltrated the community, then?”
“I’ve, er, made some progress, yes.”
“Oh Christ,” said Lamb. “You’re shagging a local.”
“Most of the population’s either retired, or commutes, or teleworks, but a lot of the houses are empty. There’s talk of the local school closing, always a sign of a dying community—”
“If I want a bleeding heart editorial I’ll read the
“Well, they don’t like you to wander about, but they don’t test secret weapons there, do they? It’s a target range.”
“Which used to belong to the Yanks. Who knows what toys they kept in their cupboards?”
“Whatever they were, I doubt they’re there now.”
“But if there’s evidence of them ever being there, it could still cause embarrassment,” said Lamb.
Like you’re an expert on that, thought River. “Yeah.” He retrieved his sock. “Which is what I was calling about. I’m going in tonight, take a look around.”
“About time.” Lamb paused. “Are you dressed? You don’t sound dressed.”
“I’m dressed,” River said. “How’s Louisa?”
“Doing her job.”
“Good. Yes. Obviously. But how is she?”
Lamb said, “Her boyfriend got smeared by a car. I don’t suppose she wakes up whistling happy tunes.”
“You checked out the accident?”
“Did we change places when I wasn’t looking?”
“Simple question.”
“A pissed cyclist. Which part doesn’t spell organ donor?”
“Fuck off, Jackson,” River said bravely. “Harper was one of yours. If he was struck by lightning, you’d be questioning the weather. I’m just asking what came up.”
There was a pause, during which River heard the click of a lighter. Then Lamb said, “He was drunk. He’d been over the road, had several beers there. Stopped elsewhere and loaded up on vodka. They’d had a row.”
River squeezed his eyes shut. Course they had. You have a row; you get pissed. How it works. “Where’d he drink the vodka?”
“We don’t know. You want to guess how many bars there are west of City Road?”
“Does he show up on—”
“Why didn’t we think of that?” Down the line, Lamb sucked up smoke. “He flashes past cameras on Oxford Street, or we think he does. Black and white footage, and all cyclists look the same. And there was nothing at the scene. Camera was buggered up when a car sideswiped its pole.”
“Now there’s a coincidence.”
“Yeah. One which says it’s a junction where accidents happen. The Dogs okayed it.”
“Huh.” Even River didn’t know what he meant by that. The Dogs were the Dogs. “Okay then. I’ll call later.”
“Do that. And Cartwright? Next time you tell me to fuck off, make sure you’re a long way away.”
“I am a long way away,” River explained.
“Apology accepted.”
He dropped the phone and went to shower.
“So,” Pashkin said, addressing them both, but speaking to Louisa. “Everything is ready for tomorrow, yes?”
“It’s all under control.”
“And not wanting to throw any spanners around, but you’re not from the Department of Energy.”
Longridge opened his mouth, but Louisa beat him. “No.”
“MI5, yes?”
“A branch of it.”
Marcus said, “The details aren’t important.”
Pashkin nodded. “Of course. I’m not trying to compromise you. I’m just establishing … parameters. I have my men here to protect me—”
He had Kyril by the door, and Piotr hovering nearby; an entirely different pair today to the brusque, almost jolly couple they’d seemed three weeks ago, the day Min—
“—and you, I presume, have been assigned to make sure all other arrangements run smoothly.”
“They will,” Marcus said.
“I’m pleased to hear it. Department of Energy or not, you’ll be aware your Government is keen to, ah, reach a mutually beneficial understanding regarding certain fuel demands my company can meet.” His features adopted a self-deprecating expression. “Not enough to drive your entire country, of course. But a reserve. In the event of difficulties arising elsewhere.”
He spoke fluently, with a medium-thick accent Louisa suspected was cultivated. A deep and sexy growl never hurt when you were opening negotiations, whatever they happened to be.
“And given the obvious delicacy of the situation, it’s in all our interests that the meeting goes smoothly. And with that in mind, I have a request.”
Watching his mouth form words, Louisa had the impression they were little clockwork toys he was winding up and setting free, to waddle across this wide expanse of carpet. “All right,” she said.
“I would like to go there. This afternoon.”
“There …?”
“The Needle,” he said. “That’s what the building’s called, yes?”
“Yes, the Needle.”
“On account of its mast,” Marcus said.
Pashkin looked at him politely, but Marcus had nothing to add. He returned his gaze to Louisa. “I want to see the room. To walk the floor.” He touched the top button of his shirt with his right index finger. “Before we get down to business. I want to feel comfortable there.”
Louisa said. “Give me five minutes. I need to make a phone call.”
