‘Jack, are you okay?’ asked Wainwright.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Just a feeling. What are you doing?’
‘I’m in the basement of Gosling Manor.’
‘That’s why I’m calling. Amy told me what happened. What’s going on?’
‘I was robbed.’
‘Amy said they took everything.’
‘Just the books. They left the artefacts and stuff, but cleaned me out of every single book. Must have taken them ages. Sorry I wasted your time.’
‘Don’t worry about that. But do you have any idea who might have done it?’
‘Hardly anyone knew that the basement was there,’ said Nightingale. ‘You, me, my assistant. Her friend. That’s about it, so far as I know.’
‘What about Marcus Fairchild?’
‘What? What about him?’
‘Did you ever take him down there, did you show him the books?’
‘No.’
‘You’re certain of that?’
‘Of course. Why? What’s going on?’
‘Word on the grapevine is that Fairchild has come into some books. Some very old, very expensive volumes. And bearing in mind what happened at Gosling Manor, that’s one hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Jack, I wouldn’t be calling you if I wasn’t sure.’
Nightingale said nothing. He ran a hand through his hair. Marcus Fairchild? How had he discovered the hidden library? He knew about the mansion, but how could he have known about the books?
‘Jack, are you there?’
‘Yeah, I’m here, Joshua.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Do? I guess I need to have a talk with him.’
‘Be careful,’ said Wainwright. ‘He’s a dangerous man.’
‘I’ll be okay. I’ve met some real hard bastards in my time.’
‘Not like Marcus Fairchild. He’s off the Richter scale.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m serious, Jack. Fairchild is pure evil. Don’t even think about taking him on. He’s got the whole Order of Nine Angles with him. You go up against one and you’ll be facing them all.’
52
Jenny’s three-bedroom mews house was just off the King’s Road in Chelsea. There were two cars parked outside the house, Jenny’s Audi and a white VW Golf that Nightingale knew belonged to her friend Barbara. He parked his MGB behind the VW and pressed Jenny’s buzzer. He stood back so that she could see him on the video monitor.
‘Jack?’ Her voice was tinny through the speakerphone.
He held up the bottle of champagne he was carrying. ‘I come bearing gifts,’ he said.
‘Jack, it’s almost eleven o’clock.’
‘The night is young,’ he said.
‘But you’re not,’ she said. ‘Have you been drinking?’
He waggled the bottle. ‘That’s what I’ve brought this for.’
‘Barbara’s here,’ she said.
‘You’ve got three glasses, haven’t you?’
The speakerphone went dead and a few seconds later he heard footsteps clicking across a wooden floor and the door opened. Jenny was wearing baggy tracksuit bottoms and an Adidas top and had her hair tied back with a silver scrunchy. ‘We’ve just got back from the gym,’ she said.
‘At night?’
‘Best time: it’s much quieter, no ogling men.’ She stepped to the side to let him in, then closed the door. ‘We’re in the kitchen,’ she said.
Barbara was sitting at the breakfast bar with a glass of orange juice in front of her. Like Jenny she was wearing tracksuit bottoms and a sports top. He winked at her and held up the bottle of champagne. ‘I can turn that into a buck’s fizz, Barbara,’ he said.
‘Music to my ears,’ said Barbara.
Jenny took a glass from the cupboard and put it on the breakfast bar. She poured in orange juice while Nightingale popped the cork from the champagne bottle.
‘How decadent is this?’ said Barbara as Nightingale poured champagne into the three glasses.
Nightingale sat down on a stool and raised his glass. ‘To exercise,’ he said.
They clinked glasses and drank. ‘Do you work out, Jack?’ asked Barbara.
‘He was being ironic,’ said Jenny.
‘I’m not a big fan of gyms,’ admitted Nightingale. ‘They always remind me of hamsters on wheels.’
‘It’s good for you,’ said Barbara. ‘Good for your heart, your joints, your general well-being.’
‘So to what do we owe the pleasure, Jack?’ asked Jenny. She looked over at Barbara. ‘I’ll bet you a quid he wants something.’
Nightingale raised his eyebrows. ‘What makes you think that I want anything?’ he said. ‘How do you know I didn’t just pop round for a social call?’
‘Because Bayswater is on the other side of town, because champagne isn’t your tipple, and because it’s eleven o’clock at night. What’s wrong?’
Nightingale put down his glass and raised his hands. ‘First, I want you to promise that you won’t bite my head off.’
Jenny’s face tightened. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Do you want me to go?’ asked Barbara.
‘Might be better if you stayed,’ said Nightingale. ‘You can referee.’
‘Jack, what’s going on?’ said Jenny.
‘I spoke to Joshua Wainwright this evening.’ He looked at Barbara. ‘He’s an American who was going to buy the books from Gosling Manor. The ones in the basement.’
‘Which Jenny says were stolen,’ said Barbara.
‘That’s right,’ said Nightingale. ‘Someone got in and took away the lot. Every last book. Here’s the thing, though. Hardly anyone knew that the books were down there.’ He frowned. ‘You didn’t mention it to anyone, did you?’
‘I didn’t realise it was a secret,’ said Barbara. ‘But no, I didn’t.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Jack!’ protested Jenny. ‘She answered your question. There’s no need for the third degree.’
‘I’m sorry, kid,’ said Nightingale. ‘I just meant that sometimes you can say things without realising it. Just in general conversation. And Barbara’s right: it wasn’t a secret. My point is that hardly anyone knew that the books were down there. Even the firemen didn’t know that the basement was there, and neither did the guy who came to quote for the repair work. In fact, the only people who know about the books are the three of us.’
‘Come on now, that’s not true,’ said Jenny. ‘That American has been down there and you’ve been giving Mrs Steadman books.’
‘Mrs Steadman doesn’t know about Gosling Manor. She knew I had the books but she didn’t know where they came from. And I’m sure that Joshua didn’t take them.’
‘Really?’ said Jenny. ‘And just as he’s about to start discussing the price, they get stolen. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit of a coincidence?’
‘If he was going to steal them, why would he send in his valuation team?’ said Nightingale.
‘I told you before, Jack. To throw you off the trail,’ said Jenny. ‘Sometimes you are so naive.’
Nightingale laughed and raised his glass. ‘It’s not often that I get called that,’ he said, and clinked his glass against Jenny’s.
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why are you here, Jack? What did Joshua say to you?’
‘I just need you to promise that you won’t fly off the handle.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you won’t like what he said.’ He sipped his drink.
‘Just tell me,’ said Jenny.
Nightingale took a deep breath. ‘He said that Marcus Fairchild has them.’
Jenny’s eyes hardened. ‘You bastard,’ she said quietly.
He put down his glass and held up his hands again. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ he said.
‘Your uncle?’ said Barbara, looking at Jenny.
‘Jack’s got a thing about him. Blames him for all the evil in the world, pretty much.’
‘Joshua said that Marcus has come into a collection of books, and he’s pretty sure they’re the ones from the basement of Gosling Manor.’
‘How would Uncle Marcus know the books were there?’ asked Jenny.
‘You tell me.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’
‘When he got you out of the cop shop. You were there when I saw him, remember? In the wine bar?’
‘And you’ve not spoken to him since?’