On Robin’s other side, Wan had begun to tell her neighbour the parable of the blind turtle, too. She wondered whether she dared ask Louise why her head was shaved, but decided it might be too personal a question to start with, so instead she said,
‘How long have you—?’
But Louise spoke across her, as though she hadn’t heard.
‘Did you have to take time off your job to come to Chapman Farm?’
‘No,’ said Robin, smiling. ‘I’m not actually working at the moment.’
The late afternoon sun pierced Strike’s retinas through the sides of his sunglasses as he walked along Sloane Avenue, ready to take over surveillance of Bigfoot. His thoughts were entirely with Robin as he wondered what was happening right now at Chapman Farm, how she was finding her new environment and whether she’d be able to find the plastic rock hidden just inside the perimeter fence.
As Strike approached his destination, Shah, who’d been watching the large hotel called the Chelsea Cloisters, walked away, which was usual procedure for a handover when facing a many-windowed building, from which people might be watching the street. However, a minute later, Strike received a call from the now out-of-sight subcontractor.
‘Hi, what’s up?’
‘He’s been in there an hour and a half,’ said Shah. ‘It’s chock-full of sex workers. Eastern European, mainly. I wanted a word about Littlejohn, though.’
‘Go on.’
‘Did he tell you he worked at Pattersons for a couple of months, before coming to us?’
‘No,’ said Strike, frowning. ‘He didn’t.’
‘A guy I used to know there, who’s now head of security at a City bank, told me yesterday Littlejohn was working for them. The guy resigned before Littlejohn left. He heard he was sacked. No details.’
‘Very interesting,’ said Strike.
‘Yeah,’ said Dev. ‘He’s definitely ex-army, is he?’
‘Yeah, ex-SIB, I checked his references,’ said Strike. ‘His story was he hadn’t worked for a couple of months before he came to us. OK, thanks. I’ll talk to him.’
Strike was on the point of slipping his mobile back into his pocket when it vibrated, and he saw another emoji-strewn text from Bijou.
Hey strong and silent international man of mystery
‘Christ,’ muttered Strike, returning his mobile to his pocket and taking out his vape pen instead. This would be the second text from Bijou he’d ignored. Two shags did not, in Strike’s view, necessitate a formal notice of termination, although he suspected most of the women he knew would have disagreed.
Across the street, a couple of teenaged girls emerged from the Chelsea Cloisters, wearing what looked like pyjamas with their trainers. Talking together, they passed out of sight, returning half an hour later with chocolate bars and bottles of water, and disappeared back inside the large brick and stone building.
Afternoon had shaded slowly into early evening before Strike’s target emerged from the building, unknowingly filmed by Strike. As hairy and unkempt as ever, Bigfoot walked off along the street, apparently texting someone. Evidently one of the advantages of owning your own software company was both the time and means to spend hours of a workday at a hotel. As Strike followed Bigfoot back towards Sloane Square, the detective’s mobile rang again.
‘Strike.’
‘Hi,’ said a female voice. ‘It’s Abigail Glover again. We spoke yesterday.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Strike, surprised, ‘thanks for getting back to me.’
‘I just wanna bit more info,’ said Abigail. ‘I’m not agreeing to anyfing.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Strike.
‘Who are you working for?’
‘Can’t disclose that, I’m afraid,’ said Strike. ‘Client confidentiality.’
‘You mentioned that guy Pirbright.’
‘Yes. As I said, I’ve been hired to investigate claims Kevin was making about the church.’
Bigfoot had slowed down and now withdrew into a doorway to read another text. Pretended to be equally absorbed in his own phone conversation, Strike also stopped walking, and feigned interest in passing traffic.
‘Pirbright was writing a book, wasn’ ’e?’ said Abigail.
‘How d’you know that?’
‘He told me, when he phoned me at work.’
Strike had a hunch he knew exactly what was bothering Abigail.
‘I haven’t been hired to help finish Pirbright’s book.’
When she didn’t respond, he said,
‘Our client’s trying to get a relative out of the UHC. Pirbright told the client about certain incidents he witnessed while in the church, and the client wants to find out how much truth, or otherwise, there was in Pirbright’s claims.’
‘Oh,’ said Abigail. ‘I see.’
