Strike texted back:
I’m fine. Might have to take a rain check on our drink, though. Police are advising me to lie low. Hope all OK with Sylvie
He then opened Shanker’s offering.
Who the fuck have you pissed off this time you silly cunt
Before he could answer this, his phone rang. Seeing that it was his sister Lucy he hesitated, but then decided it was best to get it over with.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ were her first, heated words.
‘I was just about to,’ said Strike, wondering how many more women he was going to have lied to before the day was through. ‘I’ve been with the police.’
‘Well, you could have sent a text! I nearly had heart failure when Greg rang and told me!’
‘I’m fine, Luce. Literally got away with a scratch.’
‘Where are you? The BBC say the building’s been seriously damaged! Come to us!’
Strike repeated the story he’d told Madeline, emphasising the dangers to anybody he was currently associating with, and, by impressing upon her the risk to her sons, managed to convince her that it was best he retired to some anonymous, cheap hotel. Nevertheless, she talked for twenty minutes, begging for reassurances that he’d be careful, until Strike told her mendaciously that the police expected to arrest those responsible within days. Only slightly reassured, she finally rang off, leaving Strike irritable and still more tired.
He now opened Twitter. There had been no recent tweets from Anomie, but his eye was caught by one of the hashtags currently trending on the site: #FuckWallyCardew.
Prior to this morning’s discovery that Wally had been in touch with Kea on the night before the stabbings, Strike mightn’t have been much interested in whatever Wally had done to earn Twitter’s disapprobation. Now, however, he clicked on the hashtag to find out what was going on.
Aoife @aoifeoconz
lol about fkn time #FuckWallyCardew
www.tubenewz.com/youtube-drops-Wally-Cardew- over-racism-allegations/html
Sammi @Sammitch97
replying to @aoifeoconz
omg he beat up MJ??? #FuckWallyCardew #IStandWithMJ
Drew C @_drewc^rtis
replying to @Sammitch97 @aoifeoconz
why’d he beat up MJ?
SQ @#B_O_U_TQuince
replying to @ydderidna @_drewc^rtis @Sammitch97
@aoifeoconz
because the sandn***** was fucking his sister
SQ @#B_O_U_T_Quince
replying to @ydderidna @_drewc^rtis @Sammitch97
@aoifeoconz
then a bunch of P***s put Wal in hospital
SQ @#B_O_U_T_Quince
replying to @ydderidna @_drewc^rtis @Sammitch97
@aoifeoconz
and some brothers gonna have something to say about that
@Heimd&ll88
Strike slid his phone back into his pocket, wondering when he’d next be able to get into his attic. He didn’t feel he could stay at Robin’s for more than a couple of nights, but equally he didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone in that neat little flat, not until the threat presented by The Halvening was eliminated. Evidently the white supremacists felt no gratitude whatsoever towards her for attempting to save one of their number’s lives: all that mattered was that both she and Strike appeared to be tailing their members. That bomb had been no empty threat: but for Pat’s quick reactions, he might now be lying in hospital with another body part sliced off him, consumed by guilt about their office manager’s death.
Mentally running over immediate practical concerns, Strike’s thoughts turned to his BMW, sitting in its expensive garage. As far as he remembered, there was plenty of parking on Robin’s street. In spite of his aching hamstring, he thought he might return to the garage, pick up the BMW and then drive out to Walthamstow, so that he had the car available should he need it. After drinking the rest of his coffee, he heaved himself up off his plastic chair, shouldered the rucksack now holding what, for the time being, were almost all his worldly possessions, and limped off again.
75
It gave your curses strength, it warmed
Your bones the coldest night,
To feel you were not all alone
Again the world to fight.
While Strike was heading back into central London, the equally tired and worried Robin was walking around her local supermarket. She knew how hearty an appetite Strike had, and the contents of her fridge weren’t going to be equal to the job of feeding him without substantial reinforcement. As she dropped a whole chicken into her trolley, she wondered why Strike had chosen to stay with her instead of with Madeline. She wouldn’t put it past him to have concerns about her safety: he’d sometimes displayed protective instincts that, while occasionally exasperating, had their endearing aspect. If she were entirely honest with herself, she was very shaken by what had happened that morning, and glad he was coming to stay. After all, both their names had been written on the bomb and she felt a need to be with the only person who understood how that felt.
As she queued at the checkout, Robin’s mobile rang. It was her mother. Just as Strike had with Lucy, Robin took the call only because she knew ignoring it would make matters worse.
‘Robin? We’ve just seen the news! Why on earth—?’
‘I wasn’t there when it went off, Mum,’ Robin said, shuffling forwards in the queue.
‘And how were we supposed to know that?’
‘I’m sorry, I should have called you,’ said Robin wearily. ‘We had to give police statements and everything, and I’ve only just—’
‘Why did you have to give a statement, if you weren’t there?’
‘Well, because it was an attack on the agency,’ said Robin, ‘so—’
‘They’re saying on the news it was a far-right terrorist group!’
‘Yes,’ said Robin, ‘they think so.’
‘Robin, why’s a far-right terrorist group targeting your agency?’
‘Because they think we’re interested in them,’ said Robin, ‘which we aren’t… Are you going to ask who was in the office when it went off, or—?’
‘You can hardly blame me for worrying about my daughter first!’
‘I’m not blaming you,’ said Robin, moving forwards again and starting to load her shopping onto the conveyor belt one-handed. ‘Just thought you might be interested.’
‘So who—?’
‘Pat and Strike. They’re OK, though, thanks to Pat’s quick reactions.’
‘Well, I’m glad,’ said Linda stiffly. ‘Obviously I’m glad. So now what? D’you want to come home?’
‘Mum,’ said Robin patiently, ‘I am home.’
‘Robin,’ said Linda, clearly on the verge of tears, ‘nobody wants to stop you doing what you love—’
‘You do,’ said Robin, unable to help herself. ‘You do want me to stop me doing it. I know this is a shock, it was a shock to me too, but—’
‘Why not apply for the police? With the experience you’ve got now, I’m sure they’d be glad to—’