‘And look at the dog. What’s been done to it. It looks like it attacked someone.’ She gestured with the tip of her pen towards its mouth. ‘See there? Bits of flesh on its fangs.’
‘Should be able to get some good DNA off that.’
‘Hopefully. All that blood can’t be the dog’s own.’
He felt himself staring at it, appalled but fascinated. ‘But … what happened? It looks like its head’s been ripped apart.’
‘It has. Something very strong’s been put in its jaw. And the jaw’s been pulled apart.’
‘And that’s what killed it?’
‘It’s got a broken neck too. That seems the most likely. At this stage. But it would have died from the injuries anyway.’
Mickey shook his head. ‘I don’t get it. Why rip a dog apart, leave it for dead, then put it out of its misery?’
Jane stood up. ‘Beats me. But if it’s just one person who’s done all this, we’ve got a maniac on the loose.’
‘A very strong maniac.’
‘Right.’
Mickey straightened up. ‘Thanks, Jane. Carry on.’
He made to leave the tent. Jane placed a hand on his arm, stopped him. ‘Any news?’
He knew what she was talking about. ‘Phoned the hospital before I came here. Said he’d had a good night. He’s stable. Wouldn’t tell me anything more.’
Jane sighed. ‘What they told me. We’ve been playing this game a long time. Don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad one.’
‘No,’ said Mickey. ‘Not so much fun being on the other side for once, is it?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Body’s in the next tent. Good luck.’
Mickey stepped back into the fog. Not thinking about Phil or Anni. Just concentrating on the job in hand.
Going to inspect the body.
52
The two laptops lay side by side. Perfectly squared off. Different makes, models, but both holding secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Michael Sloane stared down at them. Smiled. He loved the precision of their placing, the symmetry they created. Two rectangular puzzle pieces just waiting to be unlocked. They held full specifics of the operation against him: intercepted and recorded conversations, dealings he didn’t want made public, methods of permanently dealing with opponents. Not to mention all their plans of revenge in full detail.
‘Beautiful,’ he said. ‘Worth dying for. Obviously.’
He turned. The Golem was standing behind him. To attention, face as impassive as ever, an automaton waiting for a command. But Sloane sensed there was something more to him. It seemed like his mind wasn’t there. He moved towards him. ‘Why are you standing there?’
The Golem’s gaze seemed to be far away. At Sloane’s words, his eyes returned to the world. Like a reconnaissance craft that had been charting the outer reaches of infinite space.
‘You’re back with us,’ said Sloane. ‘Good.’
‘Sorry?’ The Golem’s voice was quiet, quizzical. Not, as Sloane had noted before, the expected voice of a killer.
‘Why are you standing there? Here, in this room? You should be in bed. Hospitalised.’
‘I … ’ the eyes were phasing out once more, ‘am strong. Mind over matter. We feel pain … only if we allow ourselves to be hurt by it.’
‘Right.’ Drugs, thought Sloane. Has to be. ‘You got the laptop. Good. And Watts is out of the way. But you let the rest of them escape.’
‘I … yes. It is embarrassment to me.’
‘It’s more than that. It’s dangerous. And not just for you. For me as well. You’ve left far too many loose ends.’
‘I … apologise.’
‘You’ll have to do more than that. You’ll have to make it right.’ He looked the Golem up and down. His side, his arms were bandaged. He wore a loose shirt to cover them. He looked pale. Or rather, thought Sloane, a lighter shade of grey. ‘Can you do that?’
‘I can.’
‘Good. But what happened yesterday could be very damaging to me. Permanently damaging, even. And I’m not prepared to allow that to happen. Not after everything I’ve done. So I need that damage limited. Stopped. And I have to know, are you capable of doing it? Today, now, in the state you’re in?’
The Golem looked Sloane directly in the eyes. He was back, focused. No doubt about it. To look in the Golem’s eyes was to stare death in the face. Sloane blinked. Swallowed hard.
‘I can do it. Today. I am in perfect state.’ He moved forward. Sloane took a step back. ‘I feel no pain. I am … super man.’
‘Good. Then let’s … let’s crack on.’
‘Also … ’ The Golem moved, wouldn’t let him get away.
Sloane waited.
‘Also I need to redeem myself.’
‘Redeem?’
‘I am professional. I allowed … error of judgement. I considered all alarm systems except one. I did not consider dogs. It was sloppy. I need to redeem.’
‘Good.’
‘I will redeem.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘What must I do?’
Sloane returned his attention to the two laptops. ‘We need to know where she’s gone. And him, whatever he’s calling himself now. And the kid. I can’t see her getting rid of either of them. They’re her insurance. She still thinks she can win with them. How wrong she is.’
He sat down at the desk. ‘We need to find her. Hopefully one of these should give us a clue as to where they are. We also need to know if she’s still in contact with the psychologist and what we can do about that.’ He sighed. ‘I should have got rid of her when I had the chance,’ he said, more to himself than anyone else. ‘Too soft, that’s my trouble.’
Dee chose that moment to enter the room. Sloane looked round at her. She was dressed in a clinging black velour leisure suit, trainers. Hair tied back. No make-up. There was no trace of the provocatively sexual being of the previous day. She was all business now.
‘Nice of you to drop by.’
‘I’ve been working out.’ She crossed the floor towards him. Didn’t even give the Golem a second look.
Sloane smiled to himself. He never knew where he was with her. He couldn’t predict how she would behave from one second to the next, what sort of mood she would be in, what would come out of her mouth or even what she would be wearing. Those capricious mood-swings had been very entertaining in the past. Exciting. And dangerous too. But he liked that about her. No. He loved that about her. His special switch bitch …
‘I’m just briefing our friend, darling,’ he said.
She stared at him.
‘Damage limitation. Before it’s too late.’
Her reply was cut off by the phone ringing. Neither of them made a move to answer it.
‘Probably the police again,’ said Sloane. ‘They called round last night. We’ll just pretend we’re not in again.’
No response from Dee.
‘I’ve briefed the house slave. They won’t get through.’
Nothing.
Sloane looked between the Golem and Dee. Tried to work out which one was the more impassive. Couldn’t decide.
The house slave entered clutching a handset, her hand over the mouthpiece. Sloane looked at her. ‘You know we’re not to be disturbed,’ he said, voice low. ‘I left you strict instructions. Do you enjoy your punishments?’
She trembled. Passed the phone over. ‘I think … think you need to answer, sir.’ Bowed her head. Stood there as if awaiting a blow.
He took the phone, quelled the anger rising within him. Spoke. ‘Sloane.’
‘Hello, Michael.’
It took him a few seconds before he recognised the voice. Then he understood why the house slave had been insistent. She had avoided her punishment. Unless she still wanted it, of course.