Lamb’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought we were wiped from Service records. This kind of spoils the magic.’
‘Contact details are on the deep-level data sets,’ Ho said.
‘Yeah, I heard some jabbering there, but I won’t pretend I followed it.’
‘We’ve been over this,’ Lech said. ‘It’s our personal records that have been wiped. Names, photos, active history, operational involvement, all that. The deep-level stuff, which is anonymised – like our employee numbers and bank details – that data’s still on file. Else we wouldn’t get our salaries, for a start.’
Lamb looked pained. ‘You get salaries? I thought the whole point was to demoralise you.’
‘We don’t get much.’
‘Just as well. If they paid you what you were worth, you’d owe them money.’ He returned to Ho. ‘That new, is it? The palsy-pattern shirt?
‘Paisley,’ said Roddy.
‘If you say so. Makes you look a spastic either way.’ He leaned back and put his feet on his desk. Somehow he’d managed to shed his shoes. ‘So. Everyone got the same text message, right?’
‘Including you,’ said Catherine.
‘Seriously?’ He scrambled about in his pockets, theatrically going through most of them before finding his mobile back in the first one he’d checked. Then they waited while he turned it on. ‘Well, heartbreak make me a dancer. Seems I’m no better than the rest of you.’ He dropped the phone, and went on, ‘Okay then. One little slow horse went to market, and it turned out she had a trainee spook on her heels.’
‘What makes him a trainee?’
‘You spotted him, didn’t you? What about the rest of you?’ He pointed at Shirley, who’d slunk back in and was visibly trying to disassociate herself from her own hands. ‘What were you up to last night? No, let me guess. You were jiving the small hours away. Anyone watching you?’
‘I’m always watched in night clubs.’
‘Yeah, they’re worried you’ll steal people’s drinks.’ He paused. ‘No, hang on, you’re the lush,’ he said to Catherine. ‘I get you confused. Have you thought about wearing badges?’
‘To make your life easier? That’s not going to happen,’ said Catherine. ‘And no, I wasn’t followed last night.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘I just said so.’
‘Ah, the wonders of sobriety. What it must be to have total recall of every passing second.’ He looked at Louisa. ‘And she could have given you lessons back in the day. Had a thing about sailors, if I remember rightly. A big thing. She’d have gone down on the
He produced a cigarette out of nowhere, a lighter from the same place, and lit the one from the other. Then he stared at the lighter for a moment before tossing it over his shoulder and pointing at Lech Wicinski. ‘You planning on letting those facial pubes cover the art on your cheeks? Or is your electric razor on the fritz? No offence.’
‘I’m Polish,’ Lech said. ‘Not German.’
‘Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Did you make the bread, by the way?’
‘… Yes.’
‘Needs more garlic.’ Lamb belched. ‘So, any nasty eyes tracking your private pleasures last night? Or were you too busy playing the old ham banjo to notice?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Lech. ‘There might have been someone.’
‘Well, that opens a world of possibilities. Care to elaborate?’
‘Heading home, on the bus.’ He shrugged. ‘It might have been nothing. But I got off a stop early just in case.’
‘That’d put the fear of God into them. Anyone surrender?’
‘Nobody followed me home from there.’
‘Probably too scared. You’re very quiet.’
This to River Cartwright.
River said, ‘Nothing to report.’
‘No pitter-patter of spooky footsteps trailing your moves last night?’
‘They’d have had to be fast. I was driving.’
‘Oh, of course, you have a car now. Spending the inheritance. What did you go with? Let me guess. An Aston Martini.’
‘Something like that,’ said River.
‘And where were we tooling about?’
‘Nowhere special. Just putting it through its paces.’
Lamb stared, but said no more.
The smoke from his cigarette was thicker than usual, unless there was a local mattress fire. Eyes were starting to water; throats beginning to itch.
‘You haven’t asked me yet,’ Roddy said.
Lamb sighed. ‘Okay, Donkey Kong. Anyone pinned a tail on you lately?’
‘No.’
‘Well, that was a fruitful exchange.’ His cigarette between his lips, Lamb slid both hands down his trousers to rearrange his underwear. That accomplished, he removed the cigarette and tapped the ash into the nearest mug. The entire tube fell off the filter. He looked bitterly at what was left for a moment, then dropped that into the mug too. ‘So. Either the rest of you are too dozy to notice that the Park’s keeping tabs, or it’s only happening to the scarlet woman. Or she was making it up on account of being terrified she’ll end up a spinster bag lady, with no man paying attention. That about sum it up?’
‘Or, strange as it may seem, it was a coincidence,’ said Catherine.
‘Ah, thank you. We can always rely on you to play devil’s asparagus.’
‘Avocado,’ she said automatically. Then: ‘Advocate. Damn it, you’ve got me doing it.’
