London Rules полностью

So she removed her coat and shook it. Droplets scattered, little rain dances picked up briefly by lamplight. There was a hook on the door, and she hung the coat there, then ran both hands through her shoulder-length curls. She turned to face Lamb. ‘I’m wet,’ she said.

‘Nice to see you too,’ said Lamb. ‘But let’s not get carried away.’ He eyed her critically. ‘You look like all your birthdays came at once.’

‘I look happy to you?’

‘No, old. Am I the only one round here speaks English?’

She didn’t smile. ‘Old, how kind. And busy too, what with the country being on high alert. Yet here I am, slogging across London to discover precisely what manner of shit you’re pulling now. Roderick Ho? I thought you kept him in a cage, like a gerbil.’

Lamb gave it some thought. ‘That’s pitching it a little high. He’s more like a verruca. You’re never entirely sure how you ended up with one, but they’re a bugger to get rid of.’

‘But we both know he can make a line of computer code sit up and beg. So what the fuck’s he been up to, Jackson? There was a knife at the scene, bullet holes in his walls, and broken glass all over his neighbourhood. And the Met were less than impressed with your witness statement. A domestic?’

‘I thought it best not to air the dirty laundry in front of the help. Especially Ho’s dirty laundry. Trust me, you don’t want to know.’ He waved a hand at the visitor’s chair. ‘It’s fine, it was wiped down yesterday.’

‘What with?’

‘Suit yourself.’

Taverner remained standing, hands resting on the back of the chair. ‘Playing the national security card for the cops is one thing, Jackson, even though we both know your clearance is just marginally higher than Thomas the Tank Engine’s. But acting dumb for the Park’s another story.’

‘I’m not sure you’re allowed to say dumb any more. It offends the vocally impaired. Or idiots. I can’t remember which.’

‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘Yeah, I caught that vibe.’

‘You were there, at Ho’s house, at whatever time in the morning it was. Which means you knew there was something going on. But didn’t report it. Service Standing Order whatever the hell it is—’

‘Twenty-seven three,’ Lamb said.

‘If you say so.’

‘The three’s in brackets.’

‘I don’t care if it’s in fucking Sanskrit, it’s there for a reason. If you knew there was a hit on one of your team, the protocol’s clear. You report it upwards. In this case, to me.’

‘Ordinarily, I would have. But there were special circumstances.’

‘Which were?’

‘I couldn’t be arsed.’

She drummed her fingers against the chair briefly, then stopped. Not letting Lamb see your annoyance was a primary objective of any encounter with him. A bit like not letting a shark notice your blood in the water. ‘That’s not a special circumstance, Jackson,’ she assured him. ‘That’s your prevailing condition. And this time, it might just prove terminal.’

‘If you want to go to the mats, Diana, you let me know. Because I have so much dirt on you, I’ve started an allotment.’

‘I’m sure that’ll be a distraction in your forced retirement, but it certainly won’t save you. Not this time.’

He leaned back heavily in his chair and swung both feet onto his desk. ‘If I’m gonna be threatened I’m getting comfortable. You mind if I loosen my trousers?’

‘I’d prefer it if you changed them occasionally. Look. I’m aware there are … incidents in the past—’

Lamb ticked some of them off. ‘Attempted murder. Kidnapping. And I’m pretty sure treason’s in there somewhere.’

‘—which might allow you a certain amount of leverage when it comes to negotiating your position. But we’re way past that here. So before you start stroking yourself, there’s a couple of details you might want to consider.’

‘Always like to get the details straight before I start.’

‘The Met reported a burnt-out car two miles from the scene. No body in it, so maybe whoever took a high-dive through your boy’s window survived the fall. Or maybe his pals just took his corpse somewhere else, in which case I’m sure he’ll turn up in due course.’

Lamb yawned, and put his hand back down his trousers. ‘So somebody’s either dead or they’re not. This is high-class investigative work.’

‘And the bullets found at the scene have been subjected to forensic examination.’

‘Don’t stop. Nearly there.’

‘The weapon they came from’s a match for one used at Abbotsfield.’

Lamb froze.

‘Fuck,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Taverner. ‘For once, I think we agree.’

Zafar Jaffrey had to stop three times on his way to the Dewdrop café: twice to accept good wishes from members of the community; once to buy a Big Issue and to discuss with its seller the problems faced by the nearby homeless shelter, where younger clients were being targeted by drug dealers. Jaffrey took notes and did a lot of nodding. He was handsome, clean-shaven, his hair just straggly enough to show independence of spirit, and when off-camera favoured jeans and open-necked shirts; a light bomber jacket today, despite Ed Timms’s warning.

‘Really, Zaf, you can’t be too careful.’

‘So I can’t wear a bomber jacket. Are you serious?’