Though there were several TV crews in place by this time – and dozens of phones had captured Flint’s address – only Channel Go had been there for the moment that started the disturbance, the breaking of the window. But although that small piece of action featured prominently in the channel’s coverage, at no point did the camera get a clear view of the troublemaker’s face.
And while the red sweater was recovered from a bin once the crowd had dispersed, its wearer was never found.
The two cars arrived at the O.B.’s at much the same moment, River having just put his complaining vehicle out of its misery as Lech’s headlights peeped round the curve in the opposite direction, sculpting a long green shape from the darkness. Sid gripped his elbow. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, recognising Louisa’s car, and only mildly perturbed when he saw that it contained Lech and Shirley. ‘They’re with me.’
The four converged on the lane, and River, conscious that he and Sid were both wet and damaged, made brief introductions.
Shirley said, ‘So you’re the dead chick.’
‘Thanks.’
‘No, I meant it in a good way.’
Sid looked at River. ‘Slough House hasn’t changed, then.’
‘Not so you’d notice.’
Lech said, ‘Maybe we should take this inside? I’m presuming that’s your house?’
Mine, yes, thought River. It had taken a while, but felt true now: this was his house. He led them round the back, shuffling broken glass aside with his foot as he held the door. Lech, he saw, was carrying a mobile. ‘I thought we’d gone dark.’
‘Situation’s fluid. You know there’s a GRU team out there?’
‘We noticed.’
They went into the study, Sid automatically heading for the O.B.’s chair. She snapped the standard lamp on, and the room adopted a soft yellow sheen, a cosiness that felt unreal after the evening’s events. As if they’d reassembled on a stage, having murdered the supporting cast in the wings. River, standing by Sid, noticed she smelled of lake water. He must do too.
Lech said, ‘You’ve been swimming? Or mud wrestling?’
Sid said, ‘They found us. Found me.’
‘Okay …’
‘And they’re no longer a problem,’ said River.
‘Hey, cool,’ said Shirley.
Lech raised an eyebrow.
‘You think we’re kidding?’
‘I’m just getting to grips,’ Lech said. ‘I’m an analyst, not a field agent.’
Shirley had found the melted gun. ‘Did this just happen? Or is it one you prepared earlier?’
River took it from her and put it on its shelf. ‘They came after us. And they’re both dead. In a car. Back the way we came from.’
‘They died in a car?’
‘They’re dead in a car,’ River clarified.
Something in his tone dissuaded even Shirley from seeking details.
‘So what happens now?’ Lech asked.
River could feel his body complaining: new-born bruises waking up. Stretched muscles, thudding aches. He’d held the woman’s head under water until she’d ceased to be. That was something he’d have to live with, and he guessed he was up to the task: she’d come to kill him, Sid too. It was the very definition of self-defence. So yes, give it time, he’d climb over that memory, but here and now he could feel the aches and pains of their struggle, and all he wanted was sleep. On one level, he was grateful to Shirley and Lech for coming; grateful even to Lamb for sending them. On another, he wanted everyone except Sid to fuck off and leave him alone.
But what he said was, ‘We’d better collect that car. Before anyone finds it.’
In the dimly lit room, Lech’s facial scarring looked like ten o’clock shadow. ‘Collect it and then what?’
For a moment River thought about pushing it into the lake, letting it settle among the weeds. A movie-solution, which in real life would end in a half-submerged fiasco, a crowd of onlookers, and everybody wet. ‘Bring it back here,’ he said. ‘Once we’ve gone light again, the cleaners can take it away.’
The best kind of problem was one that highly trained specialists would turn up and deal with.
‘I’ll drive,’ Shirley said.
‘You’re still drunk,’ said Lech.
She made a so-what? face, but he wasn’t looking, so she turned to River. ‘How messy are they?’
Instead of answering, River took Sid’s hand. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
‘I’ll wait here.’
A glimpse of the old Sid showing through, he thought.
Shirley said, ‘And what am I supposed to do?’
‘There’s a kettle, there are tea bags,’ River assured her. ‘You’ll think of something.’ He let go of Sid’s hand, and he and Lech went outside. He was cold; could usefully have changed into dry clothing, if he’d had any. Brief, vivid snapshots of the struggle by the lake kept bursting into mind. He flinched involuntarily, and to cover up asked, ‘What happened back in town?’
There was a pause long enough that River figured he wasn’t the only one who’d had an interesting evening. Then Lech said, ‘Lamb had a showdown with Taverner. Now we’re safe-housed.’
‘Everyone all right?’
‘We left them eating an Indian takeaway.’
‘Did you keep the receipt?’
‘Gave it to Lamb,’ said Lech. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ said River, deciding this wasn’t the time to explain that expenses claims filed through Lamb were a lost cause.
