Back at Blake’s grave they gathered around Catherine, Shirley still unfocused, the rest of them growing impatient. Rain was in the air, and an occasional shiver shook the trees. Somewhere on City Road, brakes squealed.
Catherine said, ‘Does anyone know where River is?’
‘I think he went to Kent,’ Louisa said.
‘His grandfather’s?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘… Why?’
‘He had a good reason,’ Louisa said. ‘But if that’s where he is, even if he’s heading straight back, he’ll be a while.’
Catherine pursed her lips. ‘He didn’t respond to the text.’
If he’d been obeying protocol, Louisa thought, he’d have dumped his phone soon as the text came through. And if any of them were likely to follow the protocol, that would be River. But before she could remind Catherine of this, Catherine was speaking again. ‘Okay, Lamb said that once Roddy got here, I should start.’
Ho visibly swelled.
Lech said, ‘Could you run his exact words past us?’
‘I’d sooner not.’
‘Because I doubt they were a compliment.’
‘Shut up, scarface,’ said Ho.
‘That’s enough. All of you.’ Nobody, thought Louisa, did schoolteacher quite like Catherine. ‘Now. Some of you will remember Struan Loy.’
‘Yes,’ said Louisa.
‘No,’ said Lech.
‘No,’ said Shirley.
‘No,’ said Ho.
Catherine gave him a look. ‘Well, you should. He was at Slough House same time as you.’
Ho shrugged.
‘What’s happened to him?’ Louisa asked.
She had the feeling it was nothing good. Former slow horse wins the Lottery wasn’t a headline waiting to be printed.
Catherine said, ‘He died. In a fire.’
Another squall of wind shook the trees, and they rustled in annoyance.
Lech said, ‘Okay, that’s sad, but he was before my time. So no offence, but if you’re planning a whipround for a wreath, count me out. And why the cloak and dagger, anyway?’
‘Because the fire was set deliberately. And he’s the second Slough House, ah, graduate, to die in the last few weeks.’
Lech paused. ‘That’s not a good statistic.’
‘Hence, as you say, the cloak and dagger.’
‘Who was the other one?’ said Shirley.
‘Kay White. Also before your time.’
‘But not before mine,’ said Louisa. ‘I thought she had an accident.’
‘Yes,’ said Catherine. ‘But the kind that might have happened on purpose.’
‘We’re being hunted.’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘That’s what Lamb thinks?’
‘He thinks someone’s taking revenge for the Kazan hit last month.’
‘I thought that was just a rumour.’
‘It is a rumour, yes. But it’s also true.’
‘Welcome to Spook Street,’ murmured Shirley.
‘By “someone”, we’re presumably talking GRU?’ Lech said. ‘They’ve sent a hit team?’
‘Again,’ said Catherine, ‘it’s a possibility.’
‘But why us?’ said Louisa. ‘We’re hardly in the frame for Kazan.’
Ho said, ‘But you can see why they might suspect us,’ and frowned meaningfully.
‘The Park,’ said Shirley. ‘This is them, right? Dropping us in the shit as usual.’
Lech said, ‘That’s a stretch. Putting targets on our backs for the new intake, that’s one thing. But I can’t see Taverner selling us to the Russians.’
‘Yeah, we’ve probably seen sides of her you haven’t,’ said Louisa. ‘And anyway. This isn’t the current crew, is it? Whoever’s doing this has got hold of an old team list.’
‘Which would nevertheless include some of us,’ said Catherine. ‘So you can see why I’d be happier if River had shown up. You’re sure he’s just out of town?’
Louisa said, ‘Yeah, about that. There’s something you should know.’
A rusty metal complaint interrupted her: the Bunhill Row gate was opening. It shut a moment later, and footsteps made their way along the flagstoned avenue towards where they were gathered.
Whoever it was, there were two of them.
‘Scatter,’ Louisa said.
She, Lech and Shirley made for the shadows round the side of the fenced-off graves. There was tree-cover, and bushes against a high brick wall: hideouts for children, but no place of safety. If whoever had come for Struan Loy and Kay White was coming for them, they’d be easy pickings. Louisa ducked into shadow and dropped to one knee, but when she peered back, Catherine and Ho remained standing in the light, staring after them.
Oh, crap.
It was Lamb making his way towards the graveside, and he wasn’t alone. Leaning into him was a young Indian woman whose right arm hung at an awkward angle, her left hand gripping the opposite shoulder as if holding everything in place. Lamb was propelling her forwards with a grace unusual to him, or not often on display. Her face was scrunched up in pain, and she was coughing softly, or whimpering.
Lamb said, ‘All right. Daddy’s home.’
Somewhat sheepishly, Louisa led the others out of the shadows.
Ho sneered. ‘I knew who it was,’ he told her.
‘Catherine did,’ Louisa said. ‘You’re just slow to react.’
Catherine, meanwhile, was studying the young woman. ‘Who’s this? And what have you done to her? She looks hurt.’
‘She’s fine,’ said Lamb.
‘But she looks hurt,’ repeated Catherine.
‘Okay, I broke her arm. But other than that she’s fine.’
Catherine stared at him. ‘What?’
Louisa said, ‘You broke her arm? For God’s sake! We need to call her an ambulance.’
