‘We have a torch. And it’ll be lighter by the lake. Water reflects.’
‘You know what?’ said Jane. ‘I think a dip would sharpen us all up. What do you say to that?’
She’d directed this at Jim, who said, ‘Nightswimming – why not? It’ll only be cold for a few moments. After that, it’ll feel quite normal.’
‘I don’t have a costume,’ said Sid. She seemed to be having trouble with her volume controclass="underline" the words came ballooning out of her mouth, as if she’d taken helium. This was what happened when you got near the end: everyday things slipped away. The last time she’d died, it had happened suddenly, so she hadn’t been nervous. This time, there was too much warning. These people were going to kill her. She didn’t know why, but didn’t feel she’d find any reason acceptable, even if it were carefully explained.
‘Skinnydipping,’ said Jim. ‘Why not? We’re all adults.’
He reached over and released Sid’s seat belt. The strap brushed her breasts as it spooled back into its cavity. ‘Or,’ he said, and for the first time his voice became his own: no longer the jolly vicar but the ice-toned intruder. ‘We could finish it here in the car. Which will be messier, but we can do that if you prefer.’
His head was right up against Sid’s, their eyes inches apart. Sid stared into them, and nothing stared back.
‘All right,’ she said.
Jim tilted his head slightly: a question.
‘Let’s finish it here in the car,’ Sid said, adjusting her sleeve.
Lamb said, ‘You realise, if this goes on much longer, I won’t have two spooks to rub together.’ He in- then exhaled, a thin cloud that drifted away across the canal. ‘Not that they won’t enjoy that,’ he added. ‘Last time Ho experienced friction, someone was giving him a Chinese burn. Well, just a burn in his case.’
‘You’ve gone dark,’ Diana said, a refrain she’d played earlier. ‘Stay that way. All of you. Another few days, a week at most, and you can safely graze again. We’ll find this hit-team, send them home in a padded envelope.’
‘I love it when you talk stationery.’ Lamb turned to look at her. His face was the moon’s: craters and hummocks and random patches of grey. ‘White and Loy, I can live with. But Sid Baker was in that file too. And that’s a different story.’
Diana said, ‘She’s dead,’ but didn’t put a whole lot of effort into it.
‘She was dead,’ he agreed. ‘That’s the official line. But you needed it on record that she actually wasn’t, in case it came back to bite you. I mean, it was your fuck-up that nearly got her killed. So you buried the truth in Molly’s archive, where no one was likely to look. Because everything goes straight to digital now, right?’
‘Except you.’
‘Pretty much a last resort where I’m concerned, yeah.’
She said, ‘I wouldn’t be the first First Desk, and I won’t be the last, to hide things among the paperwork. So okay, yes, I wanted Baker out of the picture. I’ve kept her safe all this time. New name, new footprint. Nice little cottage near the Lakes.’
‘I’m hearing the world’s biggest but coming in to land.’
‘She’s gone absent. Her milkman reported it a couple of days back.’
‘And you did what?’
‘I didn’t get the report until earlier today.’
‘That’s what I like about the Park,’ said Lamb. ‘Always on the ball. Any chance you included her hideaway details among that paperwork? Don’t even bother answering that. Found out where she went yet? And why?’
‘We’re looking into it.’
‘Let me save you the bother. She’s at David Cartwright’s place. Remember him? Used to be the Service’s pied piper. He played, everybody danced.’
‘And why would she go there?’
‘Because joes on the run look to other joes for help, and Sid was close to River Cartwright. Whose grandfather’s address would be on record as his main contact on account of River living in a six-month rental. She’ll know that from having seen his file back in the day, and our bad actors’ll know it courtesy of your friend Cantor. So now they’re on a two-for-one. They turn up looking for Cartwright, they’ll find Baker too.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’re keeping up. I’m fucked if I’m repeating any of that.’
‘Her address wasn’t in the file,’ said Diana. ‘But the facility she’d been treated at was.’
‘Stone me. How could they ever have found her?’
She studied her cigarette, which was all ash and filter. ‘I’ll send a team out.’
‘Don’t bother. Cartwright knows we’ve gone dark. He may be an idiot, but of all the idiots I’m proud to call my own, he’s the idiot who’s memorised the protocols. He’ll have vanished and taken her with him.’
‘Unless the GRU team got there first.’
‘Yeah, well, in that case we’ll need the cleaners in.’
‘The past never stops coming back to bite us, does it?’
‘It never stops coming back full stop,’ said Lamb.
She ground out what was left of her smoke. ‘I appreciate that you’re pissed off. But it’s under control now, or will be soon. So don’t make waves, Jackson. Barricade yourself somewhere with a case of Talisker. By the time you’ve drunk yourself to death, it’ll be safe to come out.’
‘Nice to hear words of comfort. It’s like being offered a glass of water by the arsehole who’s just burned your house down.’
‘Oh, and one other thing,’ she said. ‘Two of your lot beat up a civilian tonight. Stole his wallet and phone.’
‘We’ve all got ways of making ends meet,’ said Lamb. ‘But how do you know they were mine? It’s not like I’ve got a monopoly.’
‘Because Wicinski was being tailed when it happened. My agent reported him lurking in the gents at Old Street station. Actually spoke to him there. Ten minutes later Wicinski left in a hurry, along with – quote – a squat-looking she/he. I’m assuming that was Dander. And they’d left their victim in a toilet cubicle.’
Lamb considered this. ‘I’ll give you squat-looking. But Dander’s more of a he/she, I reckon. Your agent’s very rude.’
‘And last time I checked, mugging was a criminal offence. So once Slough House’s lights are back on, expect that pair to be clearing their desks. Aside from whatever the Met do with them.’
‘Clear their desks? Dander’ll probably do a crap on hers.’
‘More work for the cleaners then.’
He said, ‘This Judd business. The angels. You’ve stepped into a bear trap, you know that.’
‘I can handle it.’
‘You think?’
‘I know.’
‘Your funeral.’ He offered her an outstretched palm. ‘Meanwhile, I’ll need your keys.’
‘You’ll need my keys. What does that mean?’
‘It means I’m going dark, as requested, which means I’ll need a safe house. And for obvious reasons, I don’t currently have faith in the Park’s ability to boil a kettle, let alone keep me or mine out of harm’s way. So if you’ll let me have the keys to your place, it’ll save you having to sweep up broken glass in the morning.’
‘You’re not using my house!’
‘Like I said. Broken glass.’
‘Jesus’s blood,’ she said, the words coming out of nowhere. Then found her key ring, and detached a pair. She recited an address, not her own.
‘Been dipping a toe in the property market?’
‘Just leave it as you found it, all right?’
‘My philosophy of life,’ said Lamb, taking the keys.
It was clear that damage had been done. There was a noise from the engine suggesting distress, what had started as a polite knock fast becoming an irritated rattle. River had passed several cottages but encountered no further vehicles; couldn’t see anything suggesting tail lights when he reached the occasional straight. He had no idea where he was. Probably he’d cycled this way as a boy, but the curves and twists were lost to memory. These might be ditches he’d already ended up in once. Nice to have had a practice run.