Grant gave him the address in Battledean Road, Strike thanked him and hung up.
The Accident and Emergency department at St Mary’s was, as he’d expected, extremely busy. Children sat wailing in their mothers’ laps; old people awaited their turn in miserable silence; representatives of every ethnicity in London were reading magazines or looking at their phones; a young woman was doubled over with her arms folded over her stomach; and a dishevelled-looking young white man, whose hair was matted into dreadlocks, sat emitting random yelps and oaths at the far end of the waiting room. Unsurprisingly, the only vacant seats lay in his vicinity.
Strike swung himself on his crutches to reception, gave his details to an exhausted-looking woman, then headed for a seat close by the yelping man, who Strike assumed was either seriously mentally ill, under the influence of drugs, or both.
‘Yeah, you fucking do that!’ the man shouted, staring into space, as Strike lowered himself into a chair two along and breathed in his pungent smell of stale urine and BO. After propping his crutches against the seat beside him, he pulled out his phone, purely to have something to look at and avoid his neighbour’s gaze, and opened Twitter.
Anomie had tweeted a quotation just a few minutes previously.
Anomie @AnomieGamemaster
I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery – Aeschylus
1.18 pm 11 June 2015
The responses to this tweet were coming in rapidly, proliferating as Strike repeatedly refreshed the page.
Andi Reddy @ydderidna
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
Grunt Ledwell’s sold out to Maverick, right? #InkBlackHeartCashIn #HartyIsAHeartNotAHuman
Lucy Ashley @juiceeluce
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
omg, has Josh agreed to change Harty?
#HartyIsAHeartNotAHuman
Moonyspoons @m<>nyspoons
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
seriously, if Josh has agreed to this… #HartyIsAHeartNotAHuman
Well aware he might be displaying bias quite as much as the angry fans jumping to conclusions, Strike wondered whether Anomie’s talk of treachery was in any way connected to Yasmin, who, if she’d taken Strike’s advice, would now have left the game for good. But if it was Yasmin’s defection that had caused Anomie’s tirade about treachery, she must have gone back into the game to tell Anomie she was leaving: an idiotic thing to do, but then Strike considered Yasmin an extremely foolish woman. He wasn’t even sure he’d put it past her to mention his own visit to her house.
‘Get the fuck out of it!’ shouted Strike’s neighbour, who appeared to be having an argument with an imaginary antagonist.
And if Yasmin had gone back into the game to announce her departure, Strike thought, and had told Anomie about the detective that had scared her out of the game, then the call to the office phone, which had diverted to Robin’s mobile, might not have had anything to do with The Halvening at all. That call might just have been made by the person Strike believed had stabbed Edie Ledwell through the heart and slit Vikas Bhardwaj’s throat, who’d left Josh Blay partially paralysed and Oliver Peach with a significant brain injury.
Even as these thoughts chased each other rapidly through Strike’s mind, Anomie tweeted again.
Anomie @AnomieGamemaster
One must, it is true, forgive one’s enemies-- but not before they have been hanged.
Heinrich Heine
And now a different part of Anomie’s fanbase swam into view, circling the young female fans who’d responded last time like sharks.
SJW Destroyer @Br0ken729
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
Julius @i_am_evola
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
hang bitches over the bed like mobiles 
watch ’em rot while you’re dropping off to sleep
Arlene @queenarleene
replying to @i_am_evola @AnomieGamemaster
people like you and Wally Cardew give this fandom a bad name, Anomie’s not being literal
Lepine’s Disciple @LepinesD1sciple
replying to @queenarleene @i_am_evola
@AnomieGamemaster
ugly cunt who’d make a great mobile says what now?
‘Mr Thomson,’ called a distant voice. Strike looked up: two male orderlies had arrived to escort his dishevelled neighbour away for examination and, no doubt, to ensure that he got there without causing trouble. The young man got up without complaint, and though he was unsteady on his feet, he did nothing more than shout ‘Yer all fucking lunatics!’ A ripple of weak laughter spread through the waiting room, now that the young man was in the care of the men in blue overalls. Relieved to be free of the man’s smell, Strike turned his attention to Twitter again and saw that Anomie had now tweeted for a third and a fourth time.
Anomie @AnomieGamemaster
The type of hero dear to crowds will always have the semblance of a Caesar.
Anomie @AnomieGamemaster
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
His insignia attracts them, his authority overawes them and his sword instills them with fear.
Intrigued by this sudden burst of quotation and declamation from Anomie, Strike wasn’t surprised that these last tweets had caused some confusion among Anomie’s followers.
MrsHarty @carlywhistler_*
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
are you still talking about Harty? What does this mean?
Baz Tyler @BzTyl95
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
You feeling all right, mate?
SJW Destroyer @Br0ken729
replying to @AnomieGamemaster
have you been hacked?
Lepine’s Disciple @Lep1nesDisciple
replying to @Br0ken729 @AnomieGamemaster
No he hasn’t been hacked, it’s obvious what he means, dickhead
Lepine’s Disciple @Lep1nesDisciple
replying to @Br0ken729 @AnomieGamemaster
why are you all so fucking stupid?
The mobile in Strike’s pocket rang. Seeing Pat’s home number, he answered.
‘Hi, what’s up?’
She’d called to talk about the delivery of new office furniture and a couple of rota issues. Strike did his best to answer all her queries, while keeping an ear out for a doctor calling his name.
‘… and I promised Midge a long weekend,’ he concluded, ‘so you’d better mark that down too.’
‘Right ho,’ said Pat in her deep, gravelly voice. ‘And I’ve had a couple of dropped calls this morning, from the same number. Diverted from the office.’
‘Really?’ said Strike, fumbling in his pocket for a pen. ‘Give me the number.’
She did so. Strike jotted down the digits on the back of his hand and saw it was a mobile number he didn’t recognise.
‘And they hung up when you answered, both times?’