‘I wouldn’t have believed it possible,’ he said. ‘Someone’s cleared a way right up into the unit.’
‘Could they get in and out?’ Kathy asked.
‘A small person, yes. Through the grilles. You can lift them out if you know how to do it.’
Another twenty yards and the plenum changed direction again, reflecting a crank in the plan of the mall above. Nearby was a short branch tunnel off to the right, and Kathy turned that way to check it.
She would have missed Wiff ’s den, tucked away to one side at the end, if the dog, which had followed her, hadn’t started barking excitedly. Wiff had transformed a corner of the duct into a teenager’s bedroom. Everything was there: a sleeping bag, clothes, posters, small pieces of furniture, a battery-powered light, junk food and drink containers all over the place. Most of the stuff looked new, many items still with security tags and price labels. From the variety of labels, he had looted many different stores in the centre to build his nest. Next to the sleeping bag was one of the Manchester United books she had seen him studying in the bookshop in the mall the previous Sunday morning.
‘Brock, here!’ she called.
As he joined her, followed by the others, she was suddenly aware of a rhythmic sound. She swung her flashlight towards its source and saw a clock with a happy Mickey Mouse face and a comforting tick.
‘All right, hands in pockets if you please, Mr Cook,’ Brock said.
The engineer stared at him blankly.
‘Don’t touch anything. It would be best if you would retrace your steps, and leave us to carry on the search down here.’
The man nodded and withdrew, his light beam and silhouette disappearing down the tunnel, while the handler and his dog moved on to continue their search in the other direction. Brock and Kathy stood against the duct wall as Leon and the SOCO team moved in.
‘This belongs to the boy I told you about,’ Kathy said. ‘In the games arcade. Wiff Smith. I’m sure of it.’
‘How long’s he been living down here, I wonder?’
‘Winston Starkey should know how long he’s been coming here. And Speedy and the other camera operators, you’d think they would have spotted him.’
‘Like a mouse, down here in the dark.’ Brock shook his head sadly. ‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’
‘Brock, look at this.’ Leon was kneeling, his torch beam on something lying in a fold of the sleeping bag. He carefully pushed the cloth back to reveal the small glass bottle.
‘Can you read it?’
The printing on the label was tiny, and Leon had to crouch low to make it out. Finally he read, ‘Ketapet, ketamine hydrochloride, one hundred milligrams per millilitre, twenty-millilitre multidose vial. There’s a syringe here, too. Empty, but used, I’d say.’
‘Like Kerri,’ Brock said. ‘Just like Kerri. A mouse that’s taken a poison bait.’
He and Kathy watched silently as the others worked methodically across the area, taking photographs, recording items. One of the SOCOs looked up from examining an old blanket against the far wall. ‘What colour is the kid’s hair, Kathy?’
‘Black. Bit greasy-looking. Probably doesn’t bathe much.’
‘I’ve got blonde over here. Several strands, about six inches long.’
Kathy stared at the graffitied holly wreath with its YULETIDE GREETINGS silver message, listening to the door chimes dying inside the house. When Mrs Tait opened the front door a waft of fried liver and onions billowed out into the cold night. She told Kathy that Naomi was at her friend Lisa’s flat, and Kathy thanked her and continued along the deck.
As she was crossing the bridge connecting the deck to Jonquil Court, she became aware of some kind of argument ahead, a woman’s voice, angry and high-pitched, interspersed with laughter. When she reached the corner of the court she saw the woman, elderly, her shoulders stooped over a walking frame, head thrust forward belligerently towards a group of children dancing in front of her. In the stark glare of the deck lights, heavy bulkhead fittings protected by wire cages, her face and neck reminded Kathy of the leathery head of an old tortoise, a pet she’d had as a child. The woman was screaming, ‘Bugger off! I’m a copper in disguise! Bugger off or I’ll arrest you!’ This was causing a good deal of merriment among the kids, who were finding new ways to goad her to more and more ludicrous claims. ‘I thought you was a paratrooper, granny!’ one of them yelled, poking her in the ribs with a stick.
‘Hey, stop that!’ Kathy called, striding up to them.
For a moment they were undecided, then they saw the look on her face and began to scatter, calling back abuse at the old woman as they ran.
‘You all right?’ Kathy said to her. ‘Where’s your home, dear?’
But the old woman knew that danger lurked everywhere. ‘Keep away from me!’ she screamed at Kathy. ‘Keep away or I’ll arrest you! I’m a bleedin’ copper I am!’
‘Okay, okay,’ Kathy said calmly. As she carried on towards Lisa’s front door, she added, ‘Just get yourself home. It’s the safest place to be,’ and immediately doubted the wisdom of her advice.
Lisa answered her knock with a timid and somewhat reluctant invitation to come in. She was alone in the flat with Naomi, and when Kathy asked when her mother would be home, Lisa seemed uncertain. On the dining-room table was a stack of half-opened sweets of various kinds: Yorkie and Bounty bars, tubes of Rollos and Smarties. Child comforters, Kathy thought, and they did look very young the pair of them, dark eyes in pale faces examining her cautiously as they all sat down.
‘I wondered what you girls could tell me about a boy who hangs out in the mall. His name’s Wiff, Wiff Smith.
You know who I mean?’
They both nodded mutely.
‘Well? What’s his story?’
They shrugged vaguely. Naomi said, ‘Dunno really.’
‘Where does he come from, any idea?’
They looked at the floor, heads shaking.
‘Does he go to your school? No? Does he have any relatives? Brothers or sisters? Any special friends? What about Winston Starkey, in the games arcade? No?’ Kathy sat back, watching them. ‘You’re not being much help, girls. Please think, will you? Anything at all.’
Silence.
‘We’re worried that something may have happened to him, like Kerri,’ she said, and that brought their heads up, eyes widening. ‘We’ve found where he lived.’
‘Where?’ Naomi whispered. ‘Where was that?’
‘Under the mall at Silvermeadow, in the basement. It seems he had a sort of den hidden down there. Did you know about that?’
They did; she saw it in their eyes shifting away.
‘He told us… he said he lived there, under the centre. We didn’t believe him. Not at first.’
‘But later?’
Naomi nodded. ‘He said he knew things, saw things.’
Kathy leant forward. ‘What things?’
But her interest seemed to frighten them. They looked away, at the Yorkie bars and the blank TV screen in the corner of the room.
Then Naomi asked another question: ‘Why do you think something’s happened to him?’
‘We’re not certain, but we think he’s been given a drug.’
‘Which one?’
The question, asked very rapidly, brought Kathy up short.
‘It’s called ketamine. People also call it K, or Special K. Have you heard of it?’
But even as she asked, Kathy saw that they had, for Lisa had burst into tears, and Naomi looked stunned.
‘Come on now,’ Kathy said, a firmer note in her voice. ‘Tell me. Tell me what you know. It’s important.’
‘Kerri…’ Naomi began hesitantly. ‘She was trying K.’
‘Yes?’
Naomi nodded reluctantly.
‘Where did she get it from?’
‘We didn’t know. Someone was selling her stuff.’
‘You have no idea who?’
Naomi hesitated and looked sideways at Lisa, who was absorbed in her hankie. ‘No, but… I think…’
‘Yes?’ Kathy had to work to control her frustration and sound calm.