‘You asked to see me, sir,’ says Megan, trying to hide her nerves.
‘I did, Detective Inspector.’ The Chief flashes a politician’s smile and nods to a chair. ‘Please sit down.’ He looks to Tompkins. ‘This is nothing to worry about, Jude.’
‘Relieved to hear it, sir. With your office saying it was urgent, I thought you’d appreciate me being here.’ She helps herself to a seat alongside Megan.
Hunt ignores the comment and turns to his deputy. Greg Dockery fixes his eyes on Megan. ‘We have just been informed that the Home Office are about to publish their annual review.’ His tone is almost funereal. ‘And it will be highly critical of the Wiltshire Constabulary. Particularly, about our attention — or what they see as our lack of attention — to long-term unsolved cases. With that in mind, we need to be proactive and head off any rebukes.’ He musters a smile. ‘This is good news for you, Baker. As of this minute, you are the acting head of our new taskforce, Operation Cold Case. If you make sufficient progress, if this appointment heads off the criticism, then you can expect accelerated promotion to the rank of DCI. Congratulations.’ He stands up and leans across the desk to shake her hand.
Megan is surprised and confused. ‘Thank you, sir.’ She rises to grip the extended palm.
‘Starting when?’ asks Tompkins coldly. ‘With respect, we’re badly stretched, sir. As well as the Lock case, DI Baker has a very full workload, including a new murder. The timing really isn’t good.’
‘Starting right now,’ says Hunt acidly. ‘Timing is never good, Jude. There’s always a reason to put off change. We’ll assign someone else to clear the DI’s workload.’
His deputy picks up the impetus: ‘This is a major opportunity for you, Megan. It’ll be good for you. The posting is in Swindon. You will need to clear your desk today. You start in the morning.’
She swallows. ‘Sir, I have a young daughter who goes to nursery in Hartmoor. I need a little more time.’
Hunt cuts her off. ‘You don’t have time, Detective Inspector.’ He glances at his watch. ‘Nor do we. You are very lucky. You’ve landed a hell of a job. Now go and make the most of it.’
‘Yes sir.’ Megan leaves in a dignified silence, followed by Jude Tompkins. Once outside the door, the DCI takes her by the arm. ‘Come back to my office. We need to talk. You’re bright, Baker, but not that bright. Jobs like this don’t just fall like rain out of the sky. I would have known if a job as strategic as this was in the offing.’
The DCI doesn’t say any more until they’re back in the privacy of her own room. She shuts the door and shoots Megan an accusatory stare. ‘You are being bumped out of here. Shifted doubly quick. What have you been doing? Is it Jimmy? Have you been bedding that ginger toe-rag?’
Megan is horrified. ‘I certainly have not.’
‘Good. I credited you with more sense than that. So what is it?’
‘This has nothing to do with my private life. And, not that it is any of your business, I’m actually back with my husband.’
‘So illuminate me. What the hell is all this to do with, then?’
Megan tries to figure it out. Her boss is right. The new job isn’t a bump up, it’s a bump out. She’s not being promoted. She’s being shut down.
Tompkins can’t sit. She paces and glares with anger. ‘Things have never been busier. We’ve got a suicide, two murders — Naylor and Timberland — and a VIP kidnapping. And the top brass want to ship out my DI in the middle of it all.’ She moves closer to Megan. ‘Think, Baker. Think hard about anything unusual you have found or that has happened to you. Tell me about it. Is there anything at all in any of the cases that you have been holding back? Doing a bit more work on. I need to know it all. Now.’
126
A night spent on a bed of straw in a stone cell has left Gideon aching from head to toe. The Master can call him a scholar all he likes but he knows exactly what he is. He’s a prisoner. No less captive than the pale young woman he saw as they led him from the Great Room. The one in his delusional post-initiation state he thought was his mother. It was the girl off the news. He realises now. Caitlyn Lock. The daughter of the US Vice President. That was the woman he’d seen. From what he can remember she had a lover, an Englishman. He supposes he is also being held somewhere, probably in a cell like his own.
Then he remembers. Remembers his father’s book. Immurement. Ancient Britons adopted the practice of the Greco-Romans. They walled-up errant citizens, confined them in tiny spaces until they starved to death. The Followers employed the same practice to purify the body of the sacrifice and rid the mind of any form of visual or audible stimulus.
Gideon pities her. She must be going insane. Pressed up against dark dusty stone with no way to move and nothing to do. A living hell. He stands and walks his small cell. Seven strides long by three wide. Luxurious compared with how they’ll be keeping Caitlyn.
He sits on the straw bed and falls deep in thought. The Sanctuary is a circular structure. He can picture the Descending Passage. The corridor of the Outer Circle. The Great Room. The cleansing area. The Master’s chamber. Some outer chambers. The cell that he is in right now. From this first-hand knowledge and the descriptions in his father’s diaries, he believes he has a good mental map of the entire place. Including where they must be holding Caitlyn.
There is only one gap in his knowledge.
The exit.
127
Megan has spent another night at her parents’ house with Sammy. After news of her so-called ‘promotion’ and the doubts that Tompkins raised, the last thing she could face was an evening with Adam and his bullet-train desires to resume normal family life as though nothing had ever happened.
She steps in the shower and tries to clear her head. All of yesterday’s worries are still there. Gideon is missing. Jimmy is missing. She is going to have to uproot Sammy and move to Swindon.
She towels dry and dresses. Tompkins promised she’d put the skids under the whole change of jobs thing. Slow it down. Make it manageable. But Megan doubts even the DCI will be able to get the Chief and the Deputy to change their minds.
Her parents have fed and dressed Sammy and Megan thanks them and drives to nursery, her mind on autopilot. Yesterday’s twist in events has brought her and Tompkins closer together. Closer than they’d ever been. She’d even felt confident enough to confide in her. The DCI had typically demanded every last detail and Megan had given it to her. Everything. Gideon Chase’s theories about cults. The disappearing evidence that linked butcher Matt Utley with the break-in at the Chase estate. Everything. She was surprised — and somewhat relieved — she hadn’t been laughed out of the station.
Having dropped Sammy and kissed her goodbye, she uses her mobile to phone HR and tell them she’s going to the doctors’ and can’t come in today. Maybe not tomorrow either. She looks at the keypad and then tries the numbers she has for Gideon and Jimmy. Another blank. Gideon’s absence can only be bad news. She turns the car around and heads out to Tollard Royal.
It’s a sunny, clear day and the hour-long trip is almost therapeutic. It’s a tiny village on the southernmost boundary with Dorset. Not much there of tourist interest. A thirteenth-century church and a Quaker burial ground. Only Ashcombe House, home to Cecil Beaton, Guy Ritchie and Madonna, is worthy of note.
At the Chase estate the gates are locked. She presses the buzzer repeatedly and calls his phone lines again. Nothing.
Megan gets out of the car and walks the tall brick walls of the perimeter until she’s out of sight of any passing traffic. If Utley found a weak spot in the home’s defences, she can.