The Hallmarked Man полностью

She wasn’t going to betray Ilsa; two could play the duplicitous game of not admitting what they knew, but she couldn’t stand speaking to Strike, not until she’d got herself under better control.

The office phone rang. Robin didn’t want to answer: she didn’t want Strike to know she’d been here. Nevertheless, she automatically switched the phone to speaker so she could hear the message, if there was one. She listened as Pat’s gravelly voice informed the caller that they’d reached the Strike and Ellacott Detective Agency, that office hours were nine to five, and that they could leave a message. There was a beep, and then a rasping male voice spoke.

‘You were told to leave it. Fucking leave it, or you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya, ya fuckin’ bitch!’

A click: the caller had hung up.

Eyes still smarting, Robin stared at the phone. Even in her current state, she thought she recognised that voice as the same one that had hissed in her ear ‘it’ll ’appen again unless you fuckin’ give this up,’ while grasping her neck in Harrods. She thought about Todd (the upskirting incident seemed hours ago) and the way he’d looked directly into her eyes, almost as though he’d sensed her watching him, but it hadn’t been Todd who’d thrust the gorilla into her hand; she’d have felt his massive belly pressing into her back.

You were told to leave it. The unknown man knew she wasn’t ‘leaving it’. How? Had Todd called someone and told them he’d been followed by Robin? Was the caller watching the office right now? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had turned up in Denmark Street to menace the agency. She could well imagine both Strike and Murphy barking at her to be careful, to call a cab, to take this threat seriously, as men did, when they were worried, when they’d rather turn their aggression on you than assess the situation dispassionately, but if the man on the other end of the phone genuinely wanted to hurt her, why leave messages first? Would they be sensible to track her to the office, after what had just happened?

Dismissing the call from her mind, Robin switched on her computer. She needed to find something she could use to get out of the trip to Scotland on Monday night…

Forty minutes later, she had two sound reasons, which had come so easily she felt as though some kindly fate had reached out through the screen to pat her on the head. Here. You deserve a break.

Robin picked up her phone, then set it down again. She didn’t want to text Strike, because he might call back. Instead she opened email. After considering what salutation she should use, she decided to dispense with one entirely, because he wasn’t her ‘dear’ anything, tonight.

I’ve found out why Todd’s so keen on riding the Circle Line all afternoon. He’s upskirting young girls. He was spotted while I was watching him and was literally chased off the train. In the commotion I lost him.

Robin stopped to think, then typed on.

I’ve been thinking about next week’s trip and it seems pointless for both of us to do Jade Semple when you’re the one who’s persuaded her to talk. I’ve just identified the school Sapphire Neagle was attending before she disappeared and I want to try and talk to a friend of hers on her way in/out of school, and find out what she knows about Oz, if anything.

I’ve also been looking at Valentine Longcaster’s Instagram. He’s been recceing a place called God’s Own Junkyard for a fashion shoot on Tuesday and I know the place. It’s in Walthamstow, not far from me. I think I should go along in person and try and interview him. He might be more likely to talk to me than you.

I’ll drive up to Ironbridge on Wednesday to do Dilys Powell, because I’m the one who’s talked to her previously.