Twice he’d had to show his Service card to be allowed through a barrier: he didn’t remember London ever being tied this tight. But it made sense. An attack at the Abbotsfield memorial service would be more than a propaganda coup; it would be a dagger in the heart of the Establishment, even if the shooters got nowhere near the Abbey itself. Which they wouldn’t. Any armed hostile in central London right now would last seconds, no longer. Which didn’t mean he couldn’t take dozens of bystanders with him, writing headlines that would scorch their way around the world.
He was exhausted, but couldn’t imagine what sleep might feel like. Every nerve inside him jangled like a landline.
He called Louisa. ‘Where are you?’
‘Storey’s Gate. You?’
‘Not far. Stay there?’
‘You asking or telling?’
‘Asking.’
‘Yeah, okay then.’
He disconnected, and headed up the street; a two-minute walk under normal circumstances, which now would take nearer ten.
Some hours before, they’d all been at Slough House. Flyte and Welles had departed, taking Kim; the slow horses were in Ho’s office, because that had become their common room, now that its regular occupant was absent. They should get rid of the furniture, River had thought; get a pinball machine. A jukebox. Not that he would have long to enjoy the amenities. That rumbling noise he could hear in the distance; that wasn’t traffic surging up London Wall. It was fate bearing down.
Catherine, who’d been reading her iPad, had said, ‘They’re expecting thousands of people. Tens of thousands. That’s what happens when there’s a tragedy. People want to show solidarity.’
‘Yeah, well, they’d be better off parking their arses at home,’ said Lamb. ‘Not like the dead are paying attention.’
‘It matters,’ she said sharply. ‘When bad things happen to the innocent, the rest of us should stand together. Otherwise we might as well live behind barricades.’
‘You know why bad things happen to good people?’ Lamb asked. ‘It’s because of all the dickheads.’
‘Well, that’s theology’s big issue wrapped up. Thanks for that.’ She looked around the assembled crew. ‘Everybody’s exhausted. There’s nothing we can do. Why don’t you all go home?’
‘We should get out there,’ Shirley said. ‘To the Abbey.’
‘And do what?’ asked Lamb. ‘Chuck staplers at the bad guys?’
‘A stapler can do a lot of damage,’ she muttered.
River said, ‘Flyte’s reported to the Park, the Park’ll have brought the Met up to speed. There’ll be police, there’ll be army, and Five’ll have eyes on the ground. I think they’ll struggle by without us.’
‘I imagine it had already occurred to them today’s service was at risk,’ Catherine said. ‘It’s not like they’d let the princes attend without serious security in place.’
‘A suspicion corroborated becomes a working theory,’ Coe said.
‘Thank you, Confucius,’ said Lamb. He turned to River. ‘Once bitten, twice chewed, huh?’
‘I don’t even know what that means,’ River said.
‘That last night’s little adventure’s left you gun-shy. What’s the matter, don’t want to be nearby in case more …
‘I just want some sleep,’ he said.
‘We all do,’ said Catherine. ‘We should all go home,’ she repeated. ‘Whatever happens today, it’s not our watch.’
As if she hadn’t spoken, Lamb said, ‘I don’t know what happened in Slough, but the pair of you clearly pissed upstream. What are the odds we’re all going to be drinking from that soon?’
Louisa stretched theatrically. ‘Well, Catherine’s got a point. If we’re gonna be drinking piss tomorrow, we might as well bag some sleep.’
‘I’m not sure that was precisely what I said.’
Coe was looking out of the window.
Lamb said, ‘So, I mention Slough, and everybody wants to go home. A suspicious mind might find that curious.’
‘They went to Slough,’ Louisa pointed out. ‘I drove to Birmingham. And back. And haven’t slept.’
‘So you don’t plan to make a nuisance of yourself round the Abbey, then.’
‘State I’m in? I’d be about as effective as Donald Trump junior.’
‘There’s a Donald Trump junior? Christ. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse.’
A phone buzzed, but nobody reached for a pocket.
‘Will someone shut that bloody thing up?’ Lamb said.
‘It’s yours,’ Catherine pointed out.
‘In that case, will everyone fuck off elsewhere?’
They trooped from the office and reconvened in Shirley’s room.
‘Now would be a good time,’ Catherine said. ‘Just go. All of you.’
‘He knows, doesn’t he?’ River said.
‘You’re probably better off if he does,’ she told him. ‘If what happened gets out, then Slough House is in trouble. Which means he’ll be on your side, for as long as it takes to sort things out.’
Unless Lamb had the power to restore life, River didn’t think things would get sorted out too quickly.
Shirley had disappeared. Coe was inserting his earbuds again, though whether he was listening to a news channel or his interminable jazz soundtrack was anyone’s guess.
River said, ‘Okay, I’m done,’ and left the building.
