The Hallmarked Man полностью

‘Any new information would help, if you can get it,’ said Strike, now directing his attention to the clump of notes about Wright, and Ramsay Silver, grouped together at the bottom of the board, ‘because I’m damned if I can see how all this fits together and some of it has to be irrelevant. We’ve got to find a way of narrowing down all the Hussein Mohameds, as well, because we haven’t got the manpower to bang on over a hundred doors on the off-chance. Meanwhile, Midge says Jim Todd’s made two more calls from telephone boxes and has been riding round the Circle Line without going anywhere again.’

‘I’m still interested in that text Pamela Bullen got, the day of the robbery, which was followed by her dashing out of the shop without locking up.’

‘Yeah,’ said Strike, scratching his chin, ‘but the police are bound to have checked that out and been satisfied with whatever she told them.’

‘Still—’

‘I agree, I’d like that cleared up, too, but she’s already lied to you and I can’t see her coming clean now. I’ve been having a look into John Auclair, that silver collector who was there when the body was discovered, but we’re not going to be able to speak to him any time soon, because—’

‘—he’s in Monaco,’ said Robin. ‘I know, I saw it online. Nice yacht.’

Strike took a sip of his tea as he turned away from the board to face Robin.

‘Want to run through the latest info on our four current candidates for William Wright?’

‘OK,’ said Robin.

‘Taking the last first,’ said Strike, gesturing to the picture of Dick de Lion, with his sculpted abs and his orange skin, ‘I’ve had no luck on his real name, but I’ve been digging on Lord Oliver Branfoot. According to Fergus Robertson, rumours have been flying around journalistic circles about Branfoot for years.’

‘What kind of rumours?’

‘The word in tabloid circles is, Branfoot swings both ways. Robertson told me Branfoot stepped down as an MP because there was an incident involving a young male intern. Apparently the intern was given a hefty pay-off, because he’s refused to talk to the press and has kept shtum ever since. Branfoot resigned on the pretext that his wife was ill, and since then he’s concentrated on his think tank and charitable work. He’s got a particular interest in troubled young men, projects for juvenile offenders and so on, and Robertson doesn’t think that’s entirely altruistic.

‘I didn’t tell Robertson why we’re interested in Branfoot, but he’s not stupid, he’s noticed Branfoot taking an unusual interest in the private detective business lately. I asked him to keep an ear out, and promised him the inside scoop if we get anything. If – big if, but for the sake of argument – Branfoot had anything to do with the body and if – even bigger if – that cipher note’s to be believed, and the body was Dick de Lion, we might have a motive. De Lion was blackmailing Branfoot, or was refusing to be bought off like the intern, so Branfoot decided to get rid of him. But to say we’ve got no concrete evidence that’s what happened is the understatement of the year.’

‘But that theory would explain what Shanker told you,’ said Robin.

‘It would,’ agreed Strike, ‘which is why I asked Robertson whether Branfoot’s a Freemason. He doesn’t know, but he sounded excited by the question, so I’m hoping he’ll do a bit of nosing around for us. On the other hand,’ said Strike, turning to look up at the board again, ‘we’ve got our road trip coming up. If we hear something that suggests it was Semple or Powell in the vault, Branfoot becomes irrelevant.’

Robin, who’d experienced another of her inconvenient inner tremors at the thought of that Lake District hotel, made an effort to sound matter of fact as she said, ‘Jade Semple first, then?’

There was a knock on the dividing door, which opened immediately.

Oh, not again, thought Robin, as Kim Cochran appeared, holding a fold-up chair.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t think you were in this morning, Robin.’ She turned, beaming, to Strike. ‘I think you’ll like this.’

‘What?’ asked Strike, his tone as unwelcoming as Robin could have wished.

‘I’ve got intel on the three men who went into the shop to murder Wright, and’ – Kim held up a large manila envelope – ‘I’ve got you pictures of the body.’

47

And destiny, her course pursuing straight,

Has struck man’s ship against a reef unseen.

Robert Browning

The Agamemnon of Aeschylus

‘I’ve been working on this guy I know for weeks, and he finally came across last night,’ said Kim triumphantly, unfolding her chair and sitting down while Robin quietly burned with resentment. It wasn’t just that Kim was about to outshine her (though it was, definitely, partly that): Kim’s offhand tone when speaking to Robin, and the broad smile she saved for Strike, rankled.

‘OK,’ said Kim, opening the manila envelope, ‘needless to say, if anyone finds out the guy gave me copies of these—’