Louisa said, ‘You’ve got the sat nav system?’
‘Sure. They use RoadWise. It’s just a matter of hacking the system.’
‘And how does waiting help?’
‘Because I’ve reached out for someone who’s done it already. Quicker than doing it myself.’ He bent to his laptop again, until his colleagues’ silence broke through his self-absorption. ‘What?’
‘Care to elaborate?’
He sighed, but overdid it. ‘Hacking, there’s a community, you know?’
‘Like stamp collectors.’
‘Or trainspotters.’
‘Or poets.’
‘A bit,’ Ho agreed, to general surprise. ‘Only way more cool. Hackers hack systems for one reason only. They’re there. Some people do crosswords or sudoku.’ His expression made it clear what he thought of that. ‘We hack. And we share.’
‘So someone will have hacked, what did you call it? RoadWise?’
‘RoadWise. Yeah, sure, if it’s there, it’s been hacked. And anyone cool enough to hack it’ll be in the community.’ He nodded at his laptop, as if it held global masses. ‘And they’ll be getting back to me any moment.’ Perhaps he saw doubt in their expressions. ‘We never sleep,’ he said.
Catherine said, ‘There’s something I don’t get.’
Ho waited.
‘You’re telling us you’ve got friends?’
‘The best kind,’ Ho said. ‘The ones you never meet.’
His laptop bleeped.
‘My ride’s here.’
Catherine watched as he bent to work.
It would be good, though, if they could hurry up a little.
Time was not on Hassan’s side.
The car stopped, and the engine cut out.
For a moment, the silence and stillness were worse than the noise and the motion. Hassan’s heart pounded, struggling for release. He wasn’t ready, he thought—wasn’t ready to put an escape plan into operation, because he didn’t have one. And wasn’t ready because, well, he wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to be poured out of the boot and told he was going to die. He wasn’t ready.
Eyes clamped shut, he tried to summon up Joanna Lumley, but she wouldn’t appear. He was on his own.
And then he wasn’t, because the boot was opening, and rough hands were hauling him out, dropping him like a sack of vegetables on to cold ground.
Instinctively, the first thing he did he was pull the hood from his head; a clumsy operation with his hands bound, but he managed it. With his head free, Hassan saw the world for what felt like the first time. He was in a forest. The car had come to a halt on a dirt track, and all around stretched trees, with mossed-over stumps lurking like goblins in the hollows. The ground was hard-packed mud, with a covering of dead leaves and twigs. The air tasted like early morning. Light was starting to make its presence felt; etching a fine tracery of bare branches overhead.
His two remaining kidnappers stood over him, so his first view was of their boots. That seemed appropriate. He guessed their boots saw more action than their brains ever did. And this thought liberated Hassan a little. He was cold and bruised and filthy and stank, but he was not in a cellar. And he was not these bastards’ dog, ready to roll over on their word. In every way that mattered, he was better than the pair of them.
Then one of the boots was on his shoulder, pressing him down on to the earth. It belonged to the one Hassan called Curly. Way up above his boot, Curly was showing him a thin, cruel smile.
‘End of the line,’ he said.
Taverner said, ‘I’m glad you’ve seen sense.’
Lamb ignored her, surveying her team instead, who were at their own or each other’s workstations, and engrossed in their current tasks, and studying every move he made. Soft light rained on them, and there was a slight buzzing in the air, white noise, which seemed to act as an aural curtain. Even without the glass wall, he doubted whether anyone could have heard their conversation.
Nick Duffy was a different matter, of course. Nick Duffy was with them in Taverner’s office. Nick Duffy could hear every word.
If there’d ever been any doubt that Diana Taverner could read minds, she put it to rest then and there. She said, ‘It’s okay, Nick. You can leave us.’
He didn’t like it, but he went.
‘Three sugars, there’s a love,’ Lamb said to his departing back.
Taverner said: ‘You want the bottom line?’
‘Oh, I’m gagging for it, darling.’
‘Black’s body’s been found. He used to be one of yours. It’s clear he was involved in the kidnapping of Hassan Ahmed. You were seen meeting with him in the early summer, long after he’d quit Slough House. Two of your crew have signed statements to that effect. You want me to continue?’
‘It’s the only thing keeping me going,’ Lamb assured her. ‘These statements. Loy and White, right?’
‘They make credible witnesses, and they put Black and you together. That, plus Moody’s homicidal outing last night, puts Slough House in a very messy frame. If you want it to go away, we can manage that. But you’re going to have to cooperate.’
Lamb said, ‘Homicidal?’
