‘Yes,’ said Louisa.
‘No,’ said Lech.
‘No,’ said Shirley.
‘No,’ said Ho.
Catherine gave him a look. ‘Well, you should. He was at Slough House same time as you.’
Ho shrugged.
‘What’s happened to him?’ Louisa asked.
She had the feeling it was nothing good. Former slow horse wins the Lottery wasn’t a headline waiting to be printed.
Catherine said, ‘He died. In a fire.’
Another squall of wind shook the trees, and they rustled in annoyance. Shush. Shush.
Lech said, ‘Okay, that’s sad, but he was before my time. So no offence, but if you’re planning a whipround for a wreath, count me out. And why the cloak and dagger, anyway?’
‘Because the fire was set deliberately. And he’s the second Slough House, ah, graduate, to die in the last few weeks.’
Lech paused. ‘That’s not a good statistic.’
‘Hence, as you say, the cloak and dagger.’
‘Who was the other one?’ said Shirley.
‘Kay White. Also before your time.’
‘But not before mine,’ said Louisa. ‘I thought she had an accident.’
‘Yes,’ said Catherine. ‘But the kind that might have happened on purpose.’
‘We’re being hunted.’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘That’s what Lamb thinks?’
‘He thinks someone’s taking revenge for the Kazan hit last month.’
‘I thought that was just a rumour.’
‘It is a rumour, yes. But it’s also true.’
‘Welcome to Spook Street,’ murmured Shirley.
‘By “someone”, we’re presumably talking GRU?’ Lech said. ‘They’ve sent a hit team?’
‘Again,’ said Catherine, ‘it’s a possibility.’
‘But why us?’ said Louisa. ‘We’re hardly in the frame for Kazan.’
Ho said, ‘But you can see why they might suspect us,’ and frowned meaningfully.
‘The Park,’ said Shirley. ‘This is them, right? Dropping us in the shit as usual.’
Lech said, ‘That’s a stretch. Putting targets on our backs for the new intake, that’s one thing. But I can’t see Taverner selling us to the Russians.’
‘Yeah, we’ve probably seen sides of her you haven’t,’ said Louisa. ‘And anyway. This isn’t the current crew, is it? Whoever’s doing this has got hold of an old team list.’
‘Which would nevertheless include some of us,’ said Catherine. ‘So you can see why I’d be happier if River had shown up. You’re sure he’s just out of town?’
Louisa said, ‘Yeah, about that. There’s something you should know.’
A rusty metal complaint interrupted her: the Bunhill Row gate was opening. It shut a moment later, and footsteps made their way along the flagstoned avenue towards where they were gathered.
Whoever it was, there were two of them.
‘Scatter,’ Louisa said.
She, Lech and Shirley made for the shadows round the side of the fenced-off graves. There was tree-cover, and bushes against a high brick walclass="underline" hideouts for children, but no place of safety. If whoever had come for Struan Loy and Kay White was coming for them, they’d be easy pickings. Louisa ducked into shadow and dropped to one knee, but when she peered back, Catherine and Ho remained standing in the light, staring after them.
Oh, crap.
It was Lamb making his way towards the graveside, and he wasn’t alone. Leaning into him was a young Indian woman whose right arm hung at an awkward angle, her left hand gripping the opposite shoulder as if holding everything in place. Lamb was propelling her forwards with a grace unusual to him, or not often on display. Her face was scrunched up in pain, and she was coughing softly, or whimpering.
Lamb said, ‘All right. Daddy’s home.’
Somewhat sheepishly, Louisa led the others out of the shadows.
Ho sneered. ‘I knew who it was,’ he told her.
‘Catherine did,’ Louisa said. ‘You’re just slow to react.’
Catherine, meanwhile, was studying the young woman. ‘Who’s this? And what have you done to her? She looks hurt.’
‘She’s fine,’ said Lamb.
‘But she looks hurt,’ repeated Catherine.
‘Okay, I broke her arm. But other than that she’s fine.’
Catherine stared at him. ‘What?’
Louisa said, ‘You broke her arm? For God’s sake! We need to call her an ambulance.’
‘First one with a phone gets fired,’ said Lamb. ‘You should have gone dark when you got the text. Or do I need to remind you you’re supposed to be fucking spies? Here. Hold this.’
‘This’ was the woman, and it was Lech he was speaking to. Who looked alarmed to find himself having to wrap a restraining arm around a captive, especially an injured, unhappy one. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, as Lamb shoved her into his orbit.
‘Bastard,’ she said.
‘Who is she?’ said Shirley. ‘And how come you got to break her arm?’
‘Bitch.’
‘Can I break her other one?’
‘Nobody’s breaking anything,’ said Catherine.
‘She’s Park,’ said Louisa.
‘Oh, somebody’s awake,’ said Lamb. ‘Thank you, Lara Crufts. Hope you didn’t trip over any tombs back there. Yes, she’s Park, and she’s here courtesy of the Boy Blunder. You can always rely on Odd-Rod to make the right mistake.’
Ho tried on his meaningful-frown face again.
‘He means she tailed you,’ said Lech. ‘Idiot.’
‘And you were waiting to intercept her,’ said Catherine. ‘But why did you have to break her arm?’
‘Because if I’d broken her leg I’d have had to carry her,’ Lamb said. ‘I mean, it’s not rocket science.’
‘We need to get her seen to,’ said Catherine. ‘You can’t just—’
‘It’s a clean break,’ said Lamb. ‘What am I, an amateur? And Taverner’ll make sure she gets what she needs, just as soon as she’s delivered a message.’
‘What message?’
‘That whatever game Diana’s playing’s gone sideways, and we’re the ones hanging off the edge. You got that, Southpaw? These words are for your boss’s ears only. Tell her I want to talk about Kay White and Struan Loy. In one hour. She knows where I’ll be.’ He lobbed a key at Lech, who took it one-handed. ‘Best let her walk out. Watching her climb the fence’d be funny, but we’re on the clock here.’
‘You’re sure this is—’
‘What I’m sure is, I don’t want to hear the next words out of your mouth.’
For a moment the little group was still, as if enacting a tableau: the end-point of a pilgrimage, gathered by this grave. Then all except Lamb watched as Lech walked the injured woman down the path towards Bunhill Row.
‘All that just to get Taverner’s attention?’ said Catherine, once they were gone.
‘Well, I considered leaving a horse’s head in her bed,’ said Lamb. ‘But the logistics are insane.’
‘Sid’s alive,’ said Louisa.
A revelation that didn’t seem to surprise Lamb. ‘And Cartwright’s with her?’
‘I think so.’
‘Then you mean she was alive,’ said Lamb. ‘Him too.’ He brushed his mouth, and a cigarette appeared. ‘Whoever these fuckers are, they’re not amateurs either. And like I said, we’re on the clock.’
When he lit his cigarette, he was briefly burnished by a halo of flame.
Louisa, thinking of River, shivered, and the first few spots of rain began to fall.
9
THE CAR MOVED SLOWLY along the lane, or that was how it felt to Sid. Slowly in the way that you moved slowly towards an undesirable appointment: your legs heavy, the pavement hostile, but time pouring away at its usual speed. Darkness was falling fast, in response to strange rural gravity. There were no overhead lights, but the car’s beams picked out hedgerow and gatepost, painting them in brief, minute detail, some of which fluttered away when lit. Moths, Sid thought. Moths and midges. There’d be more disturbances all around, sudden startlings and departures, if she could only see them. The creatures of the night reacting to the large bomb travelling past.