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‘Cormoran Strike.’
‘Yeah,’ said an aggressive male voice. ‘What d’you want?’
‘Who’s this?’ Strike asked. He could hear background clanging and male voices.
‘Jordan Reaney. My sister says you’ve been pestering my fucking family.’
‘There’s been no pestering,’ said Strike. ‘I called your ex-wife to see wheth—’
‘She’s not my fucking ex, she’s me wife, so why’re you pestering her?’
‘There was no pestering,’ repeated Strike. ‘I was trying to get a message to you, because I wanted to talk to you about the UHC.’
‘The fuck for?’
‘Because I’m conducting an investi—’
‘You keep the fuck away from my wife and my sister, all right?’
‘I’ve got no intention of going near either of them. Would you be prepar—?’
‘I’ve got nuffing to fucking say about nuffing, all right?’ said Reaney, now almost shouting.
‘Not even pigs?’ asked Strike.
‘What the fuck – why pigs? Who’s talked about fucking pigs?’
‘Your wife told me you have nightmares about pigs.’
A presentiment made Strike move the mobile slightly away from his ear. Sure enough, Reaney began to bellow.
‘THE FUCK DID SHE TELL YOU THAT FOR? I’LL FUCKING BREAK YOUR LEGS IF YOU GO TALKING TO MY FUCKING WIFE AGAIN, YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKING—’
There ensued a series of loud bangs. Strike surmised that Reaney was bashing the handset of the prison phone against the wall. A second man yelled, ‘OI, REANEY!’ Scuffling noises followed. The line went dead.
Strike put his mobile back into his pocket. For a full ten minutes he stood vaping and thinking, watching the door of the McDonald’s. Finally, he pulled out his phone again and called his old friend Shanker.
‘Awright Bunsen?’ said the familiar voice, answering after a couple of rings.
‘How’s Angel?’ asked Strike.
‘Started treatment last week,’ said Shanker.
‘Did she get to see her dad?’
‘Yeah. He didn’t wanna – cunt – but I persuaded ’im.’
‘Good,’ said Strike. ‘Listen, I need a favour.’
‘Name it,’ said Shanker.
‘It’s about a guy called Kurt Jordan Reaney.’
‘And?’
‘I was hoping we could talk about that face to face,’ said Strike. ‘Would you be free later today? I can come to you.’
Shanker being amenable, they agreed to meet later that afternoon in an East End café well known to both of them, and Strike hung up.
