Birdman

'What?'

'He's gone.'

Caffery turned. The garden had fallen silent.

She giggled nervously. 'Must've been eaten.'

'Mmm. There'll be a terrible mess.'

'I don't know, Jack.' Maddox came to stand next to him, flushed and grinning, holding out his glass for a refill. 'I think even a monster would pass on Essex.'

'Not to worry,' Caffery sighed. 'I'll clear up what's left in the morning.'

'Nah, you don't want to do that.' Maddox shook his head. 'Leave it. Raw pig is good for the roses.'

'That's disgusting,' Kryotos said.

They all stared into the silent garden, hearing only the soft hiss of the weeping willow in the pre-storm breeze. Essex, indeed, seemed to have vanished into thin air. Caffery scanned the dark corners, trying to see the trick, straining to see how he had hidden himself so quickly.

'Where is he?'

'The monsty got him.' Jenna started to cry softly.

'Don't be silly.'

Maddox shot Caffery a look, eyebrows raised. Caffery shrugged. 'Don't look at me.'

'Monsty's ate-n him.'

'Ridiculous,' Veronica said softly, coming out onto the patio to look wonderingly into the garden. 'There are no monsters in your garden. Are there, Jack?'

Caffery put the bottles down on the patio and walked slowly down the steps onto the lawn. 'Paul?' The flower beds were silent, the small ghostly spots of clematis stellata blooms floated in the darkness. He lifted the weeping willow and looked underneath. Over the railway cutting the darkness was thicker. Penderecki's lights were off.

'I'll kill him for this.' Maddox came up behind Jack. 'I'll kill you for this, Essex. Joke's over. You're upset ting the kids—' He stopped.

'What is it?'

'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

'That?'

Something dark hurtled at them out of the shadows. Maddox ducked instinctively and on the patio Dean cried out. Caffery jumped back, breathing hard — 'Jesus!' — and then, in the shock, he saw it was Essex loping towards them across the lawn, an ape hip-hopping out of the jungle, arms swinging.

'Ki-ai, ki-ai.'

'Idiot.' Caffery shook his head, laughing. 'You. You're dead meat.'

On the patio the guests dissolved into giggles.

'Bloody deranged lunatic.' Maddox held his finger up. 'You'll pay for this.'

Essex was wounded. 'Ki-ai, ki-ai? Munen mushin?'

'Where'd you hide?'

He ran his hands over his hair and shook his head. 'Oh, they just, y'know, took me away in a space craft.'

'Did sexual experiments on you, I suppose?'

'Wow, it happened to you too? Spooky.' He put his arms around Maddox and Caffery, propelling them towards the house. 'What year is this? Is that lovely Mrs Thatcher still on the throne?'

In the living room Jenna stared at Essex, not knowing whether to cry or laugh. Kryotos, flushed, thumped him on the bicep. 'Don't do that again, you big — you big walrus.' She smiled, put protective hands over Jenna's ears and dipped her head to Veronica. 'God didn't give them enough blood to service their brains and their winkies. And if they try and use both at the same time — oh!' She shook her head sorrowfully. 'Calamity is not the word for it.'

'You don't have to tell me,' Veronica said tonelessly.

* * *

The rooms grew hotter and closer with the threat of rain. More people arrived, and in the living room the pile of ficelle baguettes was reduced to a scattering of crumbs, the ice in the stainless-steel buckets melted, the platters of cheeses and chorizos lay plundered and abandoned. Someone had found a CD of Strauss waltzes and Marilyn was dancing with Essex, bumping into people and giggling. The room blazed intermittently with the metallic blue of heat lightning.

Caffery nursed his wine in the corner, watching Dean. He was about the same age Ewan had been. To Dean the room had the same dimensions, the same fears, the garden the same dark excitements. Standing upright he was eye level with the dado rail, just as Ewan had been.

'Nice house.' Maddox came up behind him. 'You didn't get this on a DI's salary.'

Caffery turned, reverie broken. 'No, no.' He looked into his wine glass. 'Parents. Left me with it.'

'They left it to you?'

'No. Left me with it.' He smiled and swirled the wine. 'They sold it to me knock down, very knock down. They were glad to see the back of it. Of me too.'

'Still alive?'

'Sure. Somewhere.'

'Interesting.' Maddox nodded thoughtfully. 'It's interesting you've never mentioned it before.'

'Yeah, well—' He shifted his feet, cleared his throat. 'Wine?'

'Go on, then. One more won't hurt.' Maddox held the glass up. 'Romaine's given Veronica's cooking the official thumbs up. She's done well tonight.' He half emptied his glass. 'But I'll have to be making tracks, mate. I want to stop in at Greenwich, see how Betts is doing.'

'How was it going?'

'At time of going to press? Pretty shit.'

'It's not going to work, is it?'

Maddox considered Caffery's face for a moment then took his arm and led him to one side. 'Between you and me?'

'Yes.'

'We'll never make it stick. Not in forty-eight hours.'

'I won't say I told you so.'

'Thanks.' Maddox sighed. 'Tomorrow morning nine a.m. our first extension starts, and when that's up we'll have to charge him, sufficient evidence or not: serology are dragging and the search on the flat turned up zilch, the clerks in the warrant office reckon we're pretty fucking funny, laughing into their spritzers all over Greenwich. And—'

'And?'

Maddox drained the glass and swilled the wine around his mouth as if he didn't like what he was about to say. He straightened up. 'He's given us a lead. Says the girls had a punter in Croom's Hill. Dropped the last one of them off there ten days before we brought him in. Thinks it was Shellene Craw. Says he had sex with her. Accounts for the hair.'

'Croom's Hill?'

'Yeah. Know it?'

'Steve.' Caffery leaned in and spoke excitedly. 'It's come up; this afternoon Essex and I were working on it.'

'Ah.' He nodded. 'Go on.'

'He's affluent. I mean really up there in the top one hundred. But he's got a little problem: hot and cold running category As. Does a nice Columbian, and the opium is Golden Triangle. A regular little Khun Sa; he's also the majority shareholder of HCC Plc.'

'Who are?'

'Pharmaceutical company. Heard of Snap-Haler?'

'Somewhere.'

'For asthmatics. HCC've just won the worldwide licence, stocks are soaring, life is sweet. He's also—'

Thunder cracked over the garden, vibrating a tray of fine-stemmed glasses so polished that their trembling scattered the light. Some of the women jumped and Marilyn giggled at her own nervousness. Essex unwrapped himself from her and moved to shut the French windows, but Veronica put a cool hand on his arm.

'No, leave it. I like the rain.' She gazed off into the garden as if she was waiting for something to happen. The drops began splattering on the patio, the smell of wet earth drifted into the room. Jack turned back to Maddox and murmured in a low voice:

'He's also on a steering committee at St Dunstan's.'

Maddox was silent, staring out at the rain. He closed his eyes briefly then straightened his tie and nodded. 'Go on.'

'He trained to be a doctor. Shoots up for his party guests. I was ready to put someone else in the frame — a technician from St D's — though it was shaky, then bingo this one comes up and the pennies drop — everything just slots in — and now you come along and chuck Croom's Hill into the pot.' He lifted his glass, drained it in one. 'Give me surveillance. A week. I'm so confident I'd go out there now and do it myself.'