9.15 pm 28 January 2013
Strike then reread the section titled Duplicated Phrases. All four accounts were fond of saying ‘I can smell your stale pussy from here’ to women; Julius I am Evola and Max R had both told girls that if they were raped every time they said something stupid they’d be ‘permanently full of cock’, and they and Lepine’s Disciple had also expressed in almost identical terms the opinion that all women should be ‘starved down to optimal breeding weight’.
Strike turned back to the first page, where Robin had pasted the first-ever tweets by Lepine’s Disciple.
Lepine’s Disciple @LepinesD1sciple
Marc Lepine was a God
Lepine’s Disciple @LepinesD1sciple
14 femoids dead hahahahahaha
Lepine’s Disciple @LepinesD1sciple
lined them up and shot them
Lastly, Strike turned back to Robin’s final summary page.
The accounts all attack random girls, but three women have come under sustained fire for years: Edie Ledwell, Kea Niven and Rachel Ledwell.
The foursome didn’t turn on Kea until Anomie did, i.e. after he tweeted ‘sue or shut the fuck up, you’re starting to bore all of us’. At that point, it was open season on her, and they treated her nearly as badly as they were treating Edie.
The strange thing is that Anomie’s never attacked Rachel Ledwell, yet she’s had nearly as much abuse from the foursome as Kea. That made me think there’s a separate, non-Ink Black Heart-related grudge against Rachel.
One possible culprit is Zoltan, Rachel’s old friend from Club Penguin. Rachel cut contact with Zoltan when he started using Kosh lines on her, and thinks he might then have become Scaramouche, because Scaramouche did the same to Zoe Haigh. Both Zoltan and Scaramouche’s accounts have disappeared from Twitter, but the tone of the abuse the foursome send Rachel could suggest ongoing resentment at an ex-friend who turned them down.
Beneath this, Robin had pasted examples of tweets the foursome had sent to sixteen-year-old Rachel.
Johnny B @jbaldw1n1>>
replying to @rachledbadly
Still riding the cock carousel, hoping to get yourself an alpha? Dream on, u saggy-titted mess
Julius @i_am_evola
replying to @rachledbadly
skanky bitch who thinks she’s too good for betas says what, now?
Max R @mreger#5
replying to @rachledbadly
Ugly dykes like you should be put in camps and correctively raped
Lepine’s Disciple @LepinesD1sciple
replying to @rachledbadly
at least when your mummy dies you’ll have something in common with #GreedieFedwell
Looking up from the pages, frowning, Strike now caught sight of somebody in the wing mirror: a tall, balding man walking determinedly towards Zoe’s shabby black door.
At once, Strike threw the papers he was reading onto the driver’s seat and lowered the window.
‘Oi!’
Tim Ashcroft turned with a start and, correctly locating the source of the shout, stared at the man with thick dark stubble and a pugilist’s bent nose.
‘I want a word with you,’ said Strike.
Looking wary, Ashcroft approached Strike, stopping a few feet away.
‘Something I can help you with?’ he asked in his polite Home Counties voice.
‘Yeah, there is. My name’s Cormoran Strike. I’m a private detective.’
He watched with satisfaction as Tim’s polite smile evaporated.
‘You’re off to visit Zoe Haigh, I take it?’
Tim waited a few seconds too long before feigning puzzlement.
‘Who?’
‘The underage girl you’ve been fucking for the last four years,’ said Strike.
‘I… what?’ said Tim. ‘Is that what Zoe’s told you?’
‘I thought you didn’t know who she was?’
‘I didn’t hear you properly,’ said Tim. Strike could see the faint glimmer of sweat on Ashcroft’s hairless upper lip. ‘I know Zoe, yes. She’s quite a troubled young—’
‘But that’s how you like them, right? Easier to manipulate if they’ve got fuck-all self-esteem and no family to drag you into court.’
‘I really don’t—’
‘Oh, I think you do,’ said Strike.
He opened the car door. Tim backed away, looking very scared, but as Strike heaved himself up onto his one leg, using the roof of the car to balance, then pulled out his crutches, Ashcroft appeared to regain some courage.
‘I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong end of the—’
‘Not making an ableist joke about my amputation, are you?’ said Strike, advancing on Ashcroft, who took a step backwards. ‘I might have to start my own blog. “My take on why the Pen of Justice is a paedophile, and why that should fucking trouble you.”’
Tim took another step back.
‘I don’t know what Zoe’s been telling people,’ he stammered, ‘but she’s not right in the—’
‘Mental, is she? A nutter?’
‘Girls sometimes get crushes on older men – read more into things than—’
‘Oh, she should’ve realised your dick was inside her platonically, should she?’ said Strike, swinging himself closer to Tim, who kept retreating. ‘D’you know what’s going to happen now?’
‘What?’ said Tim.
‘I’m going to try and persuade her to go to the police. If she doesn’t want to cooperate, I’ll go back through all the other little girls you’ve been following on Twitter. My partner’s put together quite a tidy file on you and your online behaviour. There’s at least one irate father out there who I’m sure would be delighted to hear from me.’
Tim now looked as though he might fall to his knees or burst into tears.
‘If you ever come near Zoe Haigh again,’ said Strike, ‘I’ll personally perform an amputation, and it won’t be your fucking leg. Understand?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Tim.
‘Now, get the fuck—’
The black door behind Tim opened, revealing Robin and Zoe.
‘Tim!’ cried Zoe.
Ashcroft ignored her and began to walk quickly away. As Zoe stared after him, he broke into a run and disappeared around the corner. Strike and Robin’s eyes met, and the latter knew at once, if not the specifics then the gist of what must just have happened.
‘We’re going to give Zoe a lift to the Tube,’ said Robin. ‘She’s going to take my room at the Z Hotel tonight.’
‘No,’ said Zoe, who Strike now saw had grubby tear tracks on her cheeks. ‘I want to see Tim—’
‘But he doesn’t want to see you,’ said Strike.
‘Why not?’ wailed Zoe, fresh tears spilling down her face.
‘We can talk about that in the car,’ said Strike, opening a rear door. ‘Get in.’
103
Much is finished known or unknown:
Lives are finished; time diminished;
Was the fallow field left unsown?
Will these buds be always unblown?
‘You could have been more sympathetic,’ said Robin reproachfully, half an hour later.
She and Strike were parked in a side road near Tufnell Park station, having just seen Zoe onto the Tube. Zoe was now in possession of the key card for Robin’s hotel room and a hundred pounds in cash, given to her by Strike.