The Hallmarked Man полностью

Robin felt as though she’d been away from London for a fortnight, instead of the forty-eight hours that had actually passed. Worst of all was the jitteriness that had returned almost as soon as the storm-tossed plane had landed. She now realised how safe she’d felt in Sark. She was back in noisy, crowded London, where any of the men you passed might have a gorilla mask hidden at home; she resumed looking over her shoulder every few yards and taking counter-surveillance dashes into traffic and last-second exits from Tube trains.

Nor was this suppressed, ever-present fear the worst of her worries. She and Murphy met for dinner in an Italian restaurant on Saturday evening, and talked. She repeated that she loved him, said she felt no distance and that she definitely wanted them to move in together. She tried not to remember Strike holding her hand across the kitchen table at the Old Forge, or about how understanding he’d been when she’d cried. She had to forget all that. She was moving in with Murphy.

She stayed at Murphy’s flat overnight and remained there on Sunday. They had sex twice; he seemed far happier than he’d been lately, and Robin told herself she was, too.

To Robin’s surprise, late on Sunday afternoon, Tyler Powell’s friend Wynn Jones sent her his agreement to speaking to her that evening by FaceTime.

‘Everything OK?’ asked Murphy, observing her expression as she read Jones’ text.

‘Fine,’ said Robin. ‘Just someone I’m trying to talk to about Rupert Fleetwood.’

She wondered why she was still lying to him about exactly what she was doing on the silver vault case and supposed it was force of habit.

‘Listen, d’you mind if I do an hour at the gym?’ asked Murphy.

‘No, of course not,’ said Robin.

She felt relieved at the prospect of being alone, and even gladder Murphy wasn’t present when, ten minutes after he’d left the flat, Strike called her.

‘Can you talk?’ he asked in a croaky voice.

‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘Are you all right?’

Strike, who was lying on his bed in his attic room with his prosthesis off, said,

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

In fact, his stomach had been upset all day, which he suspected was the fault of the kebab he’d bought on the way home from the Blind Spot the previous evening, because his hunger had been unassuaged by a few exorbitantly priced chips and three calamari rings. He’d slept late, then lain on his bed trying to ignore his gastro-intestinal discomfort while vaping and continuing to search for Jim Todd’s mother online, an ice pack strapped to his painful knee. He’d soon need to put his prosthesis back on, because that evening he was due to tail Plug.

‘I’ve got big news,’ he went on, ‘I got a call last night from a man claiming to be Rupert Fleetwood.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah. Quite the coincidence, after you saying you were surprised he hadn’t been in touch. He gave me the nickname he claims Decima used for him, admitted to stealing the nef, but when I pressed him for something only he and Decima would know, he hung up.’

‘Oh,’ said Robin.

‘He had a bass voice. I’ve emailed Decima to ask whether that fits Rupert, though knowing her, she’ll say someone must’ve been putting it on. I think I’ve found Todd’s mother, too. She’s in Harlesden, so I’m going to check her out as soon as I’ve got time, see whether Todd’s been in touch. And one other thing,’ said Strike, hoping there wasn’t about to be a row. ‘Kim’s resigned. I’ve just got the email.’

‘Oh,’ said Robin again. For the first time in days, her spirits lifted. ‘Why—? Did something happen, or—?’

‘Yeah, something happened,’ said Strike, who’d decided he needed to be honest about this, even if it led to trouble. ‘She turned up for surveillance and she was in a state. Her ex has gassed himself in his car.’

‘Oh my God!’

‘And then his ex turned up at Kim’s, to give Kim a hiding. She arrived in the bar and she was crying, she’d been roughed up and… well, she was leaning on me and putting her hand on my leg and—’ He remembered the naked photograph, but decided against mentioning it. ‘I’d had a few. I told her to sod off and she took offence. Well,’ Strike admitted, ‘I was fairly offensive. Anyway, it’s a two-line resignation: “I wish to terminate my contract with immediate effect. Kindly forward the balance of payment.”’

‘Right,’ said Robin, feeling slightly dazed. This was a lot to process in a single phone call. ‘Well… to be completely honest… I’m glad to see the back of her.’

‘Thank Christ,’ said Strike, relaxing slightly. He’d been worried about Robin’s reaction; specifically, that she might be uptight about him having more of what might be generally termed ‘woman trouble’. ‘In better news, Wardle’s handed in his resignation at work, so we won’t be short staffed for long.’

‘Great,’ said Robin. ‘Well, I’ve just had a breakthrough with Wynn Jones. I’ll be FaceTiming him in half an hour.’

‘He still flirting?’

‘If you can call it “flirting”, sending me aubergine emojis,’ said Robin.