‘I c-can’t help you, how can I? If it’s not Inigo…’
‘Firstly, you can give me Anomie’s email address,’ said Strike. ‘Secondly, you can help me find the moderator who calls herself Paperwhite.’
‘What d’you want to know about her for?’
‘Because I think she’s in danger.’
‘How?’
‘Morehouse might’ve told her who Anomie is.’
‘Oh…’
Yasmin wiped her face on her sleeve, smearing her make-up still further, then said,
‘I don’t know anything about her.’
‘You’ve been in Drek’s Game together for months, you must know something. We know you were showed her picture by Vilepechora.’
‘How d’you know—?’
‘Never mind how I know. Did you keep the picture?’
‘No – she was—’
‘Naked?’
‘Not – not entirely.’
‘Describe her.’
‘She’s… pretty. Slim. Red-headed.’
‘What sort of age?’
‘I don’t know… early twenties? Maybe younger?’
‘Did she ever drop any hints about where she lives?’
‘She… she once said she was miles from London, when—’
‘When…?’ Strike prompted her.
Yasmin played nervously with the wet sleeve of her cardigan, then said,
‘When I told the other moderators that Josh and Edie were going to meet… to discuss the dossier.’
‘Did you tell them where they were meeting?’ asked Strike sharply.
‘No. Paperwhite asked and I said wouldn’t tell her, because Josh would never have forgiven me if some autograph-hunter turned up? And she got in a huff and said she couldn’t turn up even if she wanted to, because she was miles away from London? And then she said it was obvious where they were going to meet and stormed off.’
‘D’you think most Ink Black Heart fans would guess that Josh and Edie were going to meet in the cemetery?’
‘Maybe?’ said Yasmin. ‘I mean… it was their place, wasn’t it? That’s where… it all happened.’
‘Can you think of anything else Paperwhite said about her life, or where she lived?’
‘No. I just know all the men seemed to fancy her? But she likes – she liked Morehouse best.’
‘How many people d’you think saw this partially nude photograph?’
‘All the blokes, probably? Vilepechora told me she meant to send it to Morehouse, but sent it to Anomie by mistake? Vilepechora probably showed all the other men…’
‘All right,’ said Strike, making a note. ‘Now give me Anomie’s email address.’
After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the mobile she’d put on the arm of the chair, opened her email account and said,
‘It’s cagedheart14@aol.com. All lower case. The number’s digits.’
‘Thank you,’ said Strike. ‘Fourteen… like Rule 14?’
Yasmin, who was busy mopping her face with her sleeve again, nodded.
‘Out of interest, what are the other thirteen rules?’ Strike asked.
‘There aren’t any,’ she said in a thick voice. ‘There’s only that rule.’
‘So why’s it called “fourteen”?’
‘It’s Anomie’s favourite number.’
‘Why?’
She shrugged.
‘OK,’ said Strike, now closing his notebook and taking out his wallet. ‘You’ve been very helpful, Yasmin. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll contact this man – ’ he opened his wallet, pulled out Ryan Murphy’s card and handed it to her – ‘and tell him everything you’ve just told me. All of it. And then I’d advise removing yourself from that game, permanently.’
‘I can’t,’ said Yasmin, white-lipped.
‘Why not?’
‘Because Anomie said – if I did –’
She suddenly emitted a humourless, slightly hysterical laugh.
‘– he said he’d tell the police I helped terrorists? But I s’pose… if I’ve told the police myself… and at least I won’t have to keep…’
Her voice trailed away.
‘At least you won’t have to keep…’
Yasmin wiped her eyes again, then said plaintively,
‘Anomie’s been… kind of blackmailing me?’
‘To do what?’
‘To… he’s been making me be him, in the game?’
‘What d’you mean?’ said Strike as a horrible suspicion assailed him.
‘He’s been making me pretend to be him? In the game, at certain times? He gave me his log-in details and told me when I had to do it, or he’d tell the police about the dossier?’
‘How long have you been doing this?’ said Strike, as his mind passed rapidly over all the suspects they’d eliminated on the basis that they’d been device-free while Anomie had been in the game.
‘I don’t know,’ said Yasmin with another sob. ‘Since… It was after I told Anomie I met your partner? At Comic Con?’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Strike. Trying not to show the rage now consuming him, he said, ‘That didn’t seem an odd request to you?’
‘Well, kind of… I asked him why he wanted me to do it, and he just told me I had to.’
‘Can you remember when, exactly, you’ve “been” Anomie? Did you keep a record?’
‘No,’ said Yasmin miserably. ‘It’s happened loads of times, I can’t remember them all… Why?’
‘Because,’ said Strike, who no longer had any scruples about scaring a woman so dangerously obtuse, ‘you’ve been helping Anomie set up alibis. If I were you, I’d try hard to remember whether you were impersonating Anomie on the night Vikas Bhardwaj got his throat cut. I think the Met is going to be pretty interested in that bit of information.’
He heaved himself to his feet again, so angry at her that he left without another word.
Yasmin’s parents came bustling down the hall towards the sitting room as Strike opened the front door, and the last thing he heard before slamming it behind him was their anxious voices questioning their daughter, and Yasmin’s answering wail of distress.
92
To-night again the moon’s white mat
Stretches across the dormitory floor
While outside, like an evil cat
The pion prowls down the dark corridor,
Planning, I know, to pounce on me, in spite
For getting leave to sleep in town last night.
At first, Robin felt glad to be home in Blackhorse Road. It was a little strange to be suddenly alone – no Strike to talk things over with, or to sit with in companionable silence in the car – but the slight sense of dislocation could be ignored while loading dirty clothes into the washing machine, putting away her toiletries, watering her philodendron and making a trip to the supermarket to restock her fridge.
However, as the day wore on, she found it harder to pretend her nerves weren’t jangled, that she felt completely secure. Haunted by images she couldn’t forget – Vikas Bhardwaj’s severed neck, the grotesque latex masks used by the pipe bomber, the young man with the 88 tattoo taking pictures of her flat – made her draw her curtains early and double-check that she’d set the burglar alarm.
She’d just sat down to eat scrambled eggs on toast when the unfamiliar ringtone of the burner phone in her bag made her jump. When she retrieved the mobile, she saw a text from Pez Pierce.
You won’t believe the day I’ve had