‘We’ve got to do something, Peter.’
Knight couldn’t believe he was saying it, but he replied, ‘We can wait them out for a few hours at least, Elaine. See if they get nervous. See if they call. If they don’t by, say, eight, then by all means, put their faces everywhere.’
Before Pottersfield could reply, Knight pulled out his mobile and punched in Hooligan’s number.
Knight heard cheering in the background and Hooligan crowed: ‘Did you catch that, Peter? It’s 1-1.We’re tied!’
‘Come to my house,’ Knight said. ‘Now.’
‘Now?’ Hooligan cried, sounding a little drunk. ‘Have you gone crazy? This is for the bloody gold medal and I’ve got midfield seats.’
‘Cronus has my kids,’ Knight said.
Silence, then: ‘No! Fuck. I’ll be right there, Peter. Right there.’
Knight hung up. Elaine held out her hand for his mobile. ‘I’ll need it for a few minutes while we put on a trace.’
He handed her the phone and went upstairs. He got Kate’s picture and brought it with him into the nursery as thunder shook the house. He sat on the couch, looked at the empty cots and the wallpaper that Kate had picked out and wondered if he had been destined for tragedy and loss.
Then he noticed the bottle of children’s liquid anti-histamine on the changing table. He set Kate’s picture down and went over, noticing that the bottle was almost empty. At that he felt duped and enraged. Marta had been drugging his kids right under his nose.
Pottersfield came in. She glanced at the photograph of Kate on the couch, and then handed Knight his phone. ‘You’re now linked to our system. Any call coming in to your number we should be able to trace. And I just got an alert. We found two bodies in a condemned factory contaminated with hazardous waste not far from the gasworks. Both women in their thirties. One was beaten to death within the last few hours – no ID. The other died earlier this week and was handless. We’re assuming it’s Andjela Brazlic and her older sister, Nada.’
‘Two Furies gone. It’s just Marta and Cronus now,’ Knight said dully, putting down the children’s cold-medicine bottle. ‘Do you think Daring could be Cronus? After what Farrell told us. The stalking in the Balkans? The flute?’
‘I don’t know.’
Knight suddenly felt gripped by doubt, intense and claustrophobic. ‘Does it matter where I am when a call comes in?’
‘It shouldn’t,’ Pottersfield replied.
He set Kate’s photograph down on the changing table and said, ‘I can’t just sit here, Elaine. I feel like I have to move. I’m going to take a walk. Is that okay?’
‘Just keep your mobile on.’
‘Tell Hooligan to call me when he gets here. And Jack Morgan should be notified. They’re at the stadium for the relays.’
She nodded and said, ‘We’ll find them.’
‘I know,’ he said with wavering conviction.
Knight put on his raincoat and left by the rear door in case the media were already camped outside. He walked down the alley, trying to decide whether to wander aimlessly or to get the car and drive back to High Beach Church to pray. But then he understood that he really had just one place to go, and only one person he wanted to see.
Knight altered direction and trudged through the rainy city, passing pubs and hearing cheering coming from inside. It sounded as though England was winning football gold while he was losing everything that ever mattered to him.
His hair and his trouser legs were soaking wet when he reached the door on Milner Street and rang the bell and pounded the knocker while looking up at the security camera.
The door opened, revealing Boss. ‘She can’t be seen,’ he said sharply.
‘Get out of my way, little man,’ Knight said in a tone so threatening that his mother’s assistant stood aside without further protest.
Knight opened the door of his mother’s studio without knocking. Amanda was hunched over her design table, cutting fabric. A dozen or more original new creations hung on mannequins around the room.
His mother looked up icily. ‘Haven’t I made it abundantly clear that I wish to be left alone, Peter?’
Walking towards her, Knight said, ‘Mother—’
But she cut him off: ‘Leave me alone, Peter. What in God’s name are you doing here? It’s your children’s birthday. You should be with them.’
It was the final straw. Knight felt dizzy and then blacked out.
Chapter 92
KAREN POPE HURRIED THROUGH the drizzling rain and the dimming light towards Knight’s house in Chelsea. She’d been tipped off by the Sun’s police reporter that something big was going on at the Private investigator’s home, and she’d gone there immediately, dialling Knight’s number constantly on the way.
But Pope kept getting an odd beeping noise and then a voice saying that his number was ‘experiencing network difficulties’. She could see the police barrier ahead and …
‘Oi, Peter call you in too, then?’ Hooligan asked, trotting up beside her. His eyes were red and his breath smelled of cigarettes, garlic and beer. ‘I came from the bloody gold-medal game. I missed the winning goal!’
‘Missed it for what?’ she demanded. ‘Why are the police here?’
He told her and Pope felt like crying. ‘Why? Why his kids?’
It was the same thing she asked Pottersfield when they got inside.
‘Peter believes that it’s a diversionary tactic,’ the inspector said.
Hooligan could not hide the slight slur in his voice, saying, ‘Maybe. I mean this Marta was here for the past fortnight, right?’
‘Give or take, I think,’ Pope said.
‘Right, so I’m asking myself why?’ Hooligan replied. ‘And I’m thinking Cronus sends her in as a spy. He can’t get someone inside Scotland Yard, but he can get this Marta inside Private, right?’
‘So?’ Pottersfield said, squinting.
‘Where are Peter’s computers? His phones?’
‘He’s got his mobile with him,’ Pottersfield said. ‘House phone is in the kitchen. I saw the computer upstairs in his room.’
Twenty minutes later, Hooligan found Pottersfield and Pope talking with Billy Casper. ‘Thought you’d want to see this, inspector,’ he said, holding up two small evidence bags. ‘Picked up the bug on the phone and the keystroke recorders on the DSL cable. I’m betting his mobile’s bugged as well. Maybe more.’
‘Call him,’ Pottersfield said.
‘I tried,’ Hooligan said. ‘And texted him. I’m getting no answer, other than something about network difficulties.’
Chapter 93
DARKNESS WAS FALLING outside Amanda’s studio. Knight’s mobile lay on the coffee table. He sat on the couch, looking at the phone, his brain feeling scalded and his stomach emptier than it had ever been.
Why hadn’t they called?
His mother sat beside him, saying, ‘It’s more than anyone as good as you should have to bear, but you can’t give up hope, Peter.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Boss said emphatically. ‘Those two barbarians of yours are fighters. You have to be as well.’
But Knight felt as beaten as he had while holding his newborns and watching his wife’s body rushed to the ambulance. ‘It’s their birthday,’ he said softly. ‘They were expecting what any three-year-old expects. Cake and ice cream and …’