‘Then let’s take another look,’ Whelan said. ‘Just in case he’s trodden somewhere he shouldn’t since last time we checked.’
She regarded him with a face so innocent of calculation, it was clear her brain was in overdrive. ‘Any particular reason? I mean, it’s a busy time for us to be re-marking our own homework.’
But Westminster, Whelan reflected, wasn’t the only zero-sum game in town. He had no intention of letting Diana Taverner know all the angles. At any given moment she had enough of her own in play to make a polyhedron.
‘Call it housekeeping,’ he said. ‘Use the Dogs, if you want. They’re not tied up with Abbotsfield, or this latest thing. I’m sure they’ll welcome the distraction.’
Lady Di nodded. ‘As you wish, Claude.’
‘Oh, another thing. There’s a service at the Abbey, day after tomorrow. For civilian casualties of war? In the light of recent events, it’ll act as a memorial. There’ll be high-profile attendance, so we’ll need to run the usual checks.’
‘And meanwhile we’ll keep seeing if we can track down the Abbotsfield killers, yes?’
Sometimes it was worth letting Lady Di have the last word, if only to guarantee that the conversation was over. He nodded curtly and watched her leave the room; then, alone, reached out and let his fingers dally a moment on Claire’s photograph, accessing her calm fortitude, her moral certainty.
In the kitchen Louisa stopped to make a cup of tea, because any time spent not looking at lists of library users was a small victory in life’s long battle. Shirley was on her heels, a little close for comfort. Shirley, thought Louisa, was not quite as manic these past few weeks as formerly. Which some people might take as a good sign, but which Louisa thought more a distant early warning.
Without preamble, Shirley said: ‘Whose side are you on?’
‘I’m going to have to say Daenerys Targaryen,’ Louisa said, without looking round. ‘It’s not so much the dragons, more the whole freeing the slaves bit. Though the dragons do get your attention, don’t they?’
‘Because I know what I saw,’ Shirley went on. ‘And that was definitely an attempted hit.’
It didn’t look like there’d be an early exit from this encounter. Suppressing a sigh, Louisa filled the kettle. ‘Want a cup?’ This was, she thought, the first time she’d asked Shirley if she wanted tea in however long it was they’d worked together, and was oddly relieved when Shirley ignored the offer.
‘I just wish I’d got the plate.’
‘Might have helped clarify the situation,’ Louisa agreed.
‘Hey, you weren’t there. It happened pretty fast.’
‘It wasn’t a criticism,’ Louisa said, though it had been. Shirley was pretty swift when it came to a lot of things: taking offence, changing her mood, eating a doughnut. Gathering data, it turned out, not so much.
‘Anyway, it was a hit. Whoever it was would have stolen the car. All we’d find would be a burnt-out wreck in the middle of nowhere. Plate wouldn’t help.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Lot of fucking use, talking to you.’
And that was the old Shirley right there, but what was different was she didn’t storm out of the kitchen after saying it, and start a lot of door-banging and equipment abuse. Louisa knew she’d been attending anger management classes, but this was her first clue that they were actually working. Which she’d have thought required whatever the female equivalent of chemical castration was, but there you go. The miracles of counselling.
‘Thing is,’ she said, since Shirley was still hovering, ‘I can’t get too excited either way.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, on the one hand Lamb’s probably right. What are the chances Ho’s on a kill list? I mean, a professional one. Obviously anyone who knows him wants him dead.’ She fished a teabag from a battered tin. ‘And on the other hand, if he’s wrong and Ho gets whacked, well, I’m not sure there’s a downside.’
‘Unless Ho’s been targeted because of what he is,’ said Shirley. ‘One of us.’
‘Ho’s a lot of things,’ Louisa said. ‘But “one of us” is not the first that springs to mind.’
‘You know what I mean. It’s funny, sure, because it’s happening to Ho, and he’s such a tit he doesn’t even know it. But what if whoever’s after him thinks it’d be simpler to plant a bomb in the building? Or storm in with a shotgun? Have you forgotten what happened last time?’
Louisa said nothing. Last time Slough House ended up in the crosshairs, it was Marcus who’d paid the price. And if she and Shirley had anything in common apart from pariah status, it was that they’d both cared for Marcus.
