‘I found it in here, when I was a kid. Nobody else knows,’ said Jiang complacently.
‘Wonder what an axe is doing in a tree?’
‘Ha,’ said Jiang, smirking again, ‘’cause Daiyu hid it in there. But don’t go telling anyone that.’
‘Seriously?’ said Robin. ‘The Drowned Prophet hid it?’
‘Yeah,’ said Jiang.
‘How d’you know?’
‘I just do,’ said Jiang, with precisely the kind of smugness Shawna always displayed when given the chance. ‘I know stuff. I told you. I keep my eyes open.’
They emerged from the woods and began to cross the field, Robin careful to pause every now and then and poke at bits of grass, pretending she was still searching for Mazu’s mother-of-pearl fish, but also trying to think of a way of leading the conversation back to Daiyu without raising Jiang’s suspicions. The rain had gone off; the grass sparkled, buttercups and clover shining enamel bright in the watery sunshine.
‘Wanna know something else?’ Jiang said, halfway back to the five-bar gate.
‘Yes,’ said Robin, with complete sincerity.
‘There’s somebody here, right now, who was here a long time ago. They’ve come back again – and I’m the only one who realises.’
He cast a sly sidelong look at Robin out of his dark, narrow eyes.
‘Really?’ said Robin. ‘Who is it?’
‘Ha. I’m not telling,’ said Jiang. ‘I’m just keeping an eye on them.’
‘Can’t you even tell me, male or female?’ said Robin.
‘Nosy, aren’t you?’ said Jiang, his grin widening. ‘Nah, that’s for me to know. Funny how Taio and Becca are so clever and they haven’t realised. I’m gonna go to Papa J, when I’ve finished my investigations,’ he added importantly.
They climbed over the five-bar gate, Robin now burning with curiosity.
The curtains of the nearest Retreat Room were closed, meaning it was in use. Robin anticipated a ribald comment from Jiang, but his good humour seemed to fade somewhat as they passed the cabin.
‘Know why I’m not allowed in them?’ he asked her, pointing a dirty thumb behind him.
‘No,’ said Robin. It was welcome news that Jiang wasn’t permitted to spirit bond; she’d been worried her flattery of him might be taken as a sexual overture.
‘Nobody’s told you?’ said Jiang, suspicious again. ‘Not Taio?’
‘No,’ said Robin. ‘Nobody’s said anything.’
‘It’s ’cause of Jacob,’ said Jiang sourly. ‘But that wasn’t my fault, it was Louise’s, Dr Zhou says so. It won’t happen again.’
‘How is Jacob?’ Robin asked, hoping once and for all to resolve this mystery.
‘I dunno, I never see him,’ said Jiang. ‘It wasn’t my bloody fault.’
The courtyard was still full of people, all of them combing the ground for some sign of Mazu’s fallen fish, and to Robin’s relief, her reappearance with Jiang occasioned neither look nor comment.
‘Need the loo,’ Robin told Jiang, smiling at him to prove she wasn’t trying to get away from him, which she had no intention of doing, because he was proving an unexpected source of interesting possible leads. ‘Then we can look more.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Jiang, pleased.
Once inside the dormitory, which was deserted, Robin hurried to her bed to deposit the latest pebble beneath the mattress, marking yet another day at Chapman Farm. On kneeling down, however, she saw that several of the tiny pebbles she’d already deposited there this week had been dislodged and lay scattered on the floor.
Disconcerted, she ran her hand beneath the mattress, finding only one pebble still in place. Then her fingers touched something small, flat, loose and smooth. She pulled it out and saw a pearly bright, intricately carved fish.
Robin hastily scooped all the dislodged pebbles up, thrust them all inside her bra, leapt to her feet and ran to the bathroom. Here she clambered up onto the sink, opened the high window, checked that the coast was clear, and threw the fish outside. It landed in a clump of tall grass.
Robin jumped back down onto the floor, wiped her footprints off the sink and turned on a tap, just in time: she heard a group of women enter the dormitory.
‘Hi,’ said Robin, emerging from the bathroom and hoping that she didn’t look too red in the face. Vivienne, who was among the women, ignored her, instead saying to the group,
‘Check everywhere, OK? Even under the mattresses.’
‘How could the pendant have got under a mattress?’ Robin asked Vivienne, her heart still thumping rapidly from the shock of her discovery.
‘I don’t know, it’s just what Becca wants,’ said Vivienne irritably.
‘Oh, right,’ said Robin.
‘Aren’t you going to help?’ said Vivienne, as Robin made to leave.
‘Sorry,’ said Robin, ‘Jiang wants me to help him.’
As she walked outside to rejoin Jiang, she noticed Becca talking to Dr Zhou on the other side of Drowned Prophet’s fountain.
‘Where should we look?’ Robin asked Jiang. She had no intention whatsoever of pursuing the fish into its clump of grass: let somebody else find it.
‘Craft rooms,’ suggested Jiang, who was clearly enjoying Robin looking to him for orders.
‘Great,’ said Robin.
As they walked away, Robin glanced back at Becca, and was unsurprised to find her eyes following them.
70
Thus the superior man pardons mistakes
And forgives misdeeds.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Strike was having an extremely trying day.
At shortly after ten, as he was following Toy Boy and the client’s mother into Selfridges, Shanker called. Hoping for confirmation that Littlejohn was working undercover for Patterson Inc, Strike answered quickly, placing a finger in his free ear to block out the sound of canned music and talkative shoppers.
‘Hi,’ said Strike, ‘what’ve you got?’
‘Reaney’s tried to top ’imself. Fort you’d wanna know.’
‘He’s what?’
‘Yeah,’ said Shanker. ‘Overdose. Me mate in Bedford jus’ called an’ told me.’
‘When was this?’
‘Few days back. Silly cunt. Bought up and nicked all the pills ’e could get ’is ’ands on and took the lot.’
‘Shit. He’s still alive, though?’
‘Just abaht. In ’ospital. Me mate said ’e was yellow an’ covered in puke when the screws found ’im.’
‘Anyone know why he did it?’
‘Yeah, ’e got a phone call from ’is wife, a week ago. After that ’e started buying up everyfing anyone could give ’im and dahned the lot.’
‘OK,’ said Strike. ‘Cheers for letting me know.’
‘No bovver. Lot of it goin’ abaht, in’t there?’
‘What? Oh,’ said Strike, realising Shanker was talking about Charlotte. ‘Yeah, I s’pose. Listen, can you give those boys of yours a kick up the arse? I need something on Littlejohn, fast.’
Strike hung up and set off in pursuit of Toy Boy and his companion, thinking of Reaney as he’d last seem him, shoving away those Polaroids of naked youths in pig masks, then standing up, pale and sweaty, after mention of the Drowned Prophet.
He spent the next four and a half hours trailing around Selfridges after his targets.
‘He’s got a couple of suits and a watch out of her so far,’ Strike informed Barclay at three o’clock, when the latter arrived to take over.
‘Starting tae think I’m in the wrong line o’ work,’ said Barclay. ‘I could use a Rolex.’