The Hallmarked Man полностью

‘She’s just had a fookin’ go at me for sloppy note taking! I’m ex-fookin’ police myself, I don’t need her telling me how to keep fookin’ files! I’m telling you now, in case she comes running to you: I just told her to do one.’

‘Great,’ said Strike, far less sincerely than he’d said it five minutes previously, before remembering he was supposed to be ‘cutting Midge some slack’.

‘Look, I’m sorry, but it’s her fookin’ manner,’ said Midge furiously. ‘She’s not the fookin’ boss of—’

‘I’ll have a word with her,’ said Strike. ‘I can’t talk now, I’ve got to make a call.’

He rang off and returned to Robin’s text.

My impression is she’s worried and wants to know what I know. I’m waiting to hear whether she’s prepared to meet.

Strike put down his sandwich, about to respond, when his mobile rang for a third time: Kim. He picked up.

‘Hi,’ said Kim. ‘I’m sorry about this, but Midge and I have just had a bit of a run-in.’

‘I’ve heard,’ said Strike.

‘Look, I’m just a stickler for keeping files up to date. The thing is, we’re not getting anywhere with Plug, and digging into his mates looks like our best lead. Midge is a bit slapdash—’

‘I’ve never found her slapdash,’ said Strike, which was true, though he’d sometimes had reason to think her insubordinate, ‘and there are ways of communicating with colleagues that don’t give the impression you think you’re their superior.’

He glanced at the time on his computer screen. He had three minutes until his call with Zacharias Lorimer.

‘If she didn’t like my tone, I’m sorry,’ said Kim. ‘I suppose I just get hyper-focused on the job and want everyone firing on all cylinders.’

‘It’s down to Robin and me to decide whether all the subcontractors’ cylinders are firing.’

‘OK, point taken,’ said Kim, ‘I’ll apologise. To be completely honest with you, I was getting pissed off with her, because she’d been going on and on about that shitty story in the paper, you know, that thing with you and Candy—’

‘An apology should sort things,’ said Strike firmly, though he didn’t like what he’d just heard.

‘I’ll ring Midge now. Actually, if you’ve got a mo, I wanted to explain about that text I sent, Christmas Eve. I’ve been so embarrassed. You’re right above this guy Stu in my contacts, he’s been pestering me for a date since he found out I’ve split up with Ray—’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to go.’

He hung up, thoroughly disgruntled, wondering whether Midge had indeed been harping on that bloody news story. She had form on loudly expressed comments about his personal life; he well remembered her raging about ‘her with the fake tits’, after his extremely ill-advised liaison with Bijou Watkins had featured in Private Eye. Then, realising it was half past one exactly, he hastily brought up FaceTime and tapped in the number on the Post-it note Pat had placed beside his computer.

Zacharias Lorimer answered within a few rings, and Strike found himself facing a young man with thick, wavy blond hair, whose skin had the pink-brown, ham-like hue typical of Anglo-Saxons exposed to bright sunlight. He was sitting in what appeared to be an upmarket lodge of some kind, with wooden walls. Dazzling sunlight was falling through a window to his right. The corner of a large painting of a lioness and a well-stocked drinks tray were visible in the background, suggesting that Zacharias wasn’t slumming it in Kenya, though his khaki shirt gestured vaguely at some park ranger role.

‘Hi,’ he said, before Strike could speak. ‘You’re Cormoran, yah?’

‘That’s me,’ said Strike. ‘Thanks for getting back—’

‘OK,’ said Zacharias forcefully, ‘look, I don’t know where Rupert is, OK? I’ve told Decima I don’t know where he is, so that’s all I’ve got to say, OK?’

‘Yeah, that’s very clear,’ said Strike, who recognised a blow-hard when he met one, and changed his tactics accordingly. ‘Have you told the police that?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘You left for Kenya before they got in touch, did you?’ said Strike.

‘What?’ said Zacharias, staring out of the screen with his slightly bloodshot eyes.

‘I assumed – but OK, if they haven’t tracked you down yet—’

‘What are you talking about? Why would the bloody police want to talk to me?’

‘Aside from the drug debt, you mean?’

Strike could tell Lorimer had been hoping Strike didn’t know anything about his dealings with Dredge, because his sunburned skin now turned blotchily red. He also deduced that Lorimer wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, because after a long pause he said in a tone of poorly feigned confusion and defiance,

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Dredge. The dealer you stiffed for a kilo of Colombia’s finest.’

‘I don’t—’

‘I’m not arsed one way or another about the coke,’ said Strike, ‘but if you’d rather talk to the police than me, I’ll let you go.’

He reached out a hand, as though to close FaceTime, and Zacharias said,

‘Hang on!’

Strike withdrew his hand.