The girl must have gone into the flat, because she suddenly screamed, and shouted down the stairs at me. ‘Oh my god, that’s my cat, you sick fuck! And look at the front door!’ She came back out onto the landing. ‘It’s knackered. You’re paying for that. I’ve got your number plate.’
I stopped briefly and shook my head in disbelief. The bitch had seen me coming in. She’d probably been waiting for a client again. Of course she had. The outfit said it all. And now she had my registration number. She’d warn Charlotte and she’d be another step ahead. I had nothing to lose. I might as well put some pressure on.
I turned and looked back up the stairs at her. She sounded defiant, but her eyes told a different story. They were huge and staring. She looked scared to death. ‘You said you wouldn’t get involved,’ I said, making sure to use my most threatening tone. ‘You’d be wise to stick to that and, if you do see Charlotte, be sure to give her this.’
Following the Fliss episode, I’d had some new business cards made. I hoped Charlotte would see the humour and relent a little. Maybe even get in touch.
They were plain, black on white, and had nothing on them but my title and my mobile number. I took one out and scribbled two words on it, before letting it fall onto the bottom stair.
It landed face up, and I threw it a backwards smile as I left the flats.
Call me, it said.
The Filth Monger
Sixteen
I rang Giles again en route to the Castle. I knew now why the Herald hadn’t run the story yet. It would take time to get it written, and she might even be touting it around different papers. From the minute I’d seen that business card, I’d been jumping to conclusions. I was willing to bet, now, that if I’d managed to get the rest of the cards out of that case, they’d all have been different. Business cards for different journalists at different papers. Worst case scenario, this could all end in a bidding war between the tabloids, and then the shit would really hit the fan. It could be huge.
I didn’t care too much what they’d say about me. Everyone who knew me, knew what my life entailed, and why. Anyone else, I didn’t give a shit what they thought. But if they dug deep enough, all sorts of stuff could come out. Sordid stuff, the stuff of tabloid dreams, enough to derail the lives of people I’d sworn to protect. I couldn’t have that happen. It was essential I found her, and the only way I’d have time to do that would be if Giles could keep a lid on things for as long as possible.
There was no answer. His mobile went to answerphone every time. It was infuriating. At one point, I went to leave a message, before stalling and hanging up. I couldn’t leave one, couldn’t leave anything that could incriminate me. The Home Office were into everything, I knew that from the Fliss episode. Giles would do his best to fulfil his promise, but not at the expense of his career and, if he were questioned about his dealings with me, it could all come out.
I threw my mobile down on the passenger seat in disgust, and put my foot down. My brief stop at Charlotte’s fake address meant I’d be late to the Castle now, and I didn’t want to run the risk of missing Rick. I needed to speak to him urgently. There was something about all this that smacked of his handiwork. I had a mole – that much was clear - and, if I wasn’t mistaken, Rick was the small mammal with the shovel hands and the velvety black coat. If so, he was my best – and worst – chance of putting this whole thing to bed.
The rush hour traffic thinned out as I headed into Berkshire, and I was actually early as I swung into the long gravel driveway of the Castle. I always drove fast, and my growing sense of urgency had driven the milometer through the roof. The security guards had opened the gate for me ahead of time, and I drove down through the avenue of trees unhindered, which was more than anyone else would be able to do.
The old family pile looked magnificent in the sunset, and I wished I was happier to come here. No matter how often I did – and depending on what was going on and who I was trying to help, it was sometimes frequently - it always stirred up old memories, and never happy ones. I considered stopping in at the east wing and paying my respects to the aged relatives, but I couldn’t face it. Anyway, respect for that quarter was hard to come by.
I parked by the front doors, and looked up at the place. I didn’t usually bother. I’d seen it a million times before, but tonight the sun was setting behind it, and the turrets were silhouetted against a blaze of orange and gold. It could almost be a real castle, rather than a Victorian mansion with delusions of grandeur. It amused people to call it the Castle, though, particularly due to the kinds of things that went on here.
I was about to walk up the steps to the front doors, when a frail voice called my name. I stopped, with an affectionate sigh, and turned round. It was my mother. She’d been hidden in the shadows and my eyes, dazzled by the sunset, hadn’t picked her out.
‘Good evening, Mother,’ I said, immediately falling back into the formal speech patterns I’d had drummed into me from such an early age.
‘Oh, my darling,’ she said, rushing forward with her arms open. ‘Let me look at you.’
‘I’m just the same, Mother.’ I surrendered myself to her bony embrace, pecking her dry-powdered, paper-thin cheek in salutation. ‘How are you?’
‘Sooo happy,’ she said, clasping her hands to her breast. ‘I’ve heard from her again!’
‘Heard from…?’ My heart sank. She wasn’t getting any better. Worse, if anything.
‘From Aimee, you…silly boy.’ She gave me a stern look. ‘You know very well. Have…have you heard from her?’
‘No, Mother, of course not.’ I hated this, but I had to try to keep her grounded. ‘You know she’s dead.’
‘Oh, you!’ She smiled a wild, dreamy smile. ‘You always say that!’
‘Yes, Mother.’ Well, at least she remembered that. ‘I do, because it’s true.’
She gave a secretive smile. ‘She’s alive to me.’
‘How’s Father?’ I didn’t really want to know, but it changed the subject.
Her smile faded instantly, and she turned back into her usual, distant self. ‘He’s…he’s the same.’
‘Oh.’ I looked at my watch. ‘I’ll try to pop in at the weekend, if I can. I have to go, Mother. Pressing business…’
‘Of course.’ She gave an absent nod.
I pecked her on the cheek again, feeling her fragile bones beneath my hug. She’d aged so suddenly, so instantaneously after…
A car pulled up on the drive, interrupting my thoughts and skidding to a halt right next to us. Gravel smattered everywhere. It was Rick.
My mother quailed behind me, and I put my arm across her in protection.
‘Sorry,’ said Rick, swinging out of his car. He was shielding his eyes against the sunset. ‘Didn’t see you.’
‘You cast-iron dick,’ I said, the anger swelling in me like a tidal wave. I turned to my mother and patted her hand. It was cold and claw-like, and I wondered, for the thousandth time, what had happened to her. Well, I knew, but it didn’t stop me wondering how it had aged her like this. ‘Go back to Father, Mother. You’re best off away from here.’
She nodded, still looking frightened, and scuttled off away in the direction of the east wing. I turned back to Rick. ‘You fucking write-off,’ I said, through gritted teeth. ‘Get inside. We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
Seventeen
‘We’re on the VIP list for the F Bar,’ I said, in tones of mock awe, as we came out of the tube at Islington.
‘Ooh, the F Bar.’ Liv put her hands to her heart, as if she might faint at the very mention of it. ‘What the fuck is the F Bar?’