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When he came back, he was still in the same fateful frame of mind. “We can check the motor inside and out and every inch of the field, but let’s face it, we knew fuck all about this guy before this, and we’re still up shit creek.”

That kind of talk didn’t go down well with Diamond. “Haven’t you heard of DNA?”

“What use is that without a suspect? We don’t know a thing about him.”

“We know several things,” Diamond said. “He’s extremely well informed on our security. Somehow he found out Porter was transferred here. He knew how to get in without activating the alarms or panicking the dog. He must have had some kind of training or inside information. He has access to gas, not CS, but something that knocks you out completely. He’s well organised, very focused. He could have killed the guards, but he chose not to.”

“Christ, that’s not bad,” Barneston said, the interest reviving in his eyes.

“Common sense,” Diamond said dismissively.

But Hen wasn’t letting it pass so lightly. “Uncommon good sense, more like, and a lot better sense than any of those berks at Bramshill ever talk. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”

Barneston appeared to agree, because he asked Diamond what he recommended next, and there wasn’t a hint of irony in his voice.

“The Mariner’s car is the thing to concentrate on,” the big man answered. “Obviously it was parked in this lane for some time. There’s a chance someone drove by and noticed it. A farmhand, maybe. These are quiet lanes, but people are moving farm machinery around a lot of the time. I’d order a house-to-house on all the inhabited places in the vicinity, asking (a), if they saw anyone along the lanes, or crossing the field-which I think is more likely-and (b), if they noticed a vehicle parked here, or being driven away.”

“I was thinking along those lines myself,” Barneston said.

“Great minds,” Hen said with a wink that only Diamond saw. “And, of course, you’ll have your SOCOs going over the house and the Range Rover and all of this area. We ought to get some of his DNA out of this.”

“We can hope.” He moved off to speak to one of his team.

Diamond turned to Hen and said, “Any more of that and I’ll buy you a damned great spoon.”

“Why?”

“Stirring it up between Barneston and me. ‘Uncommon good sense’.”

“Quite the opposite, Pete. I was throwing him a lifeline. Can’t you see he’s poleaxed, poor love? His whole world has blown up in his face. He’s lost the man he was supposed to be protecting. He’s got a neurotic woman in another so-called safe house who is going to go bananas when she hears about this, and who wouldn’t? He knows Bramshill will come down on him like a ton of bricks, and what’s more they’re going to decrypt those deeply embarrassing files any time. No wonder he’s in such a state.”

He couldn’t feel the same degree of sympathy. He said (and immediately regretted it), “Why don’t you give him a cuddle, then?”

“Sod off, mate. He badly needs advice from someone with sand in his boots and a few ideas in his head. If you want to stay involved in the hunt for the Mariner, ducky, this is your opportunity.”

Our opportunity,” he said, recouping a little.

“That goes without saying,” Hen said. “You’d better talk to him man to man.”

They remained there while the paramedics arrived and took the two SO12 guards away for treatment. They would be questioned again, but there was little prospect that they’d remember any more. Not long after, a team of three SOCOs drove up and pulled on their white protective overalls. Jimmy Barneston pointed out some potential treadmarks to the right of the Range Rover. The SOCOs looked at all the other marks they had to contend with and didn’t seem overly impressed.

Barneston eventually came back to where Diamond and Hen were watching the action from behind the tapes. He was looking marginally more in control. “All the farms and houses in the area are being visited.” He cleared his throat. “There was something you said just now. You suggested this could be an inside job, seeing that the Mariner found out about Porter being moved here.”

Diamond lifted his shoulders a fraction. “He must have got it from somewhere.”

“Or someone,” Hen added.

“You’re right, and it’s a bloody nightmare,” Barneston said, the anxiety returning to his features. “I don’t know who I can trust any more. I think I know my own squad, but you can never be totally sure. Bramshill are involved, and Special Branch. That’s a lot of people. It only needs one.”

“If we had a suspicion, we’d let you know,” Diamond told him.

“The worst of it is that I’ve got someone else under protection. Well, you read the files, so you know who she is. The Mariner found his way to Porter, so what’s to stop him finding Anna Walpurgis? She’s more of a risk than Porter was.”

“Why is that?” Hen said, as if, like some High Court judge insulated from the real world, she’d never heard of the volatile pop star.

“Temperament,” he said. “She’s hyper. You’d think she was on something, but she hardly ever stops.”

“That would be a problem.”

Barneston looked about him to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear. “You see, this story is going to break in the press any time. I can’t keep the lid on much longer. I was able to hold things down with Axel Summers because he was known to be taking a complete break from his work. And Matt Porter could miss one tournament. But questions are being asked about them both.”

Diamond said, “In that case, you’d better go public right away.”

“Jesus Christ!” Barneston flapped his hand as if swatting away a wasp.

“Face it, Jimmy. You just said the story is about to break. You don’t want it leaking out by degrees. Take control. Call a press conference and tell all.”

He stood as if stunned, his eyes making tiny nervous movements.

Diamond hammered home the message, “What’s the value of secrecy? You can’t rely on safe houses being safe for anyone any more. If Anna Walpurgis is locked away in the country somewhere like this, she’s a sitting duck for the Mariner. He’ll get to her, whatever hi-tech security you have protecting her. And he’ll relish the challenge.”

“Yes, but what’s the alternative? Let her swan around the country-or abroad-inviting a bullet? That’s as good as handing her over to the bastard.”

“Not this guy. He’s a planner. He works everything out, down to the last detail. We’ve seen two examples. The killing of Summers was a blueprint job. He must have done his research, learned his technique with the crossbow, picked his spot in the garden, prepared his sheet of paper with the quote from the poem and the names. Today was the next stage on, even more precision-planned than that. Agreed?”

“Tell me about it!”

“Right. And you may be sure he anticipated that you’d give these people the best protection possible. The classic safe house set-up. By some means or other-let’s set that aside for the moment-he knew in advance that he could get inside the safe house and snatch Matthew Porter. Which he did. So isn’t it a surefire bet that he has a plan drawn up for Miss Walpurgis?”

The worry-lines on Jimmy Barneston’s forehead said it all.

Diamond warmed to his theme. “Do you see what I’m driving at? Up to now, he’s remained ahead of us because he knows we’re an institution that works along predictable lines, as easy to see as a mail train coming up the line. Now, I haven’t met Anna Walpurgis. I haven’t had that pleasure.”

“Plenty have,” murmured Hen.

“OK, she’s a lively lady, not the sort to sit at home every night with her knitting. That could work in her favour. She’ll be safer from the Mariner in the arms of some admirer than she will being guarded by Special Branch in a safe house.”

“Happier, too,” Hen said.

Barneston was still under the cosh. “It’s too big a risk. Huge.”