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But he was well aware he’d already been dragged into Bijou’s mess, and Shah looked as though he was thinking exactly the same thing.
They parted outside the Flying Horse, Shah returning to the office to finish some paperwork, leaving Strike consumed with rage and self-recrimination outside the pub. He’d had enough experience of both kinds of misfortune to know that there was a vast difference between feeling yourself a victim of random strokes of fate and having to accept that your troubles had been brought about by your own folly. He’d been warned by Ilsa that Bijou was mouthy and indiscreet, and what had he done? Fucked her a second time. After avoiding the spotlight for years, giving testimony in court cases only in a full beard, refusing every offer of a press interview and ending a previous relationship with a woman who’d wanted him to pose with her at high-profile events, he’d knowingly bedded a loudmouth with, it turned out, a well-known married lover in the background.
He called Bijou’s number, but reached voicemail. After leaving a message telling her to ring him as soon as possible, he called Ilsa.
‘Hi,’ she said, sounding cold.
‘Calling to apologise,’ said Strike, which was only partially true. ‘I shouldn’t have bitten your head off. I know you were only trying to look out for me.’
‘Yes, I was,’ said Ilsa. ‘All right, apology accepted.’
‘Well, you’ve been proven right in spades,’ said Strike. ‘I’m in today’s Private Eye, linked to her and to her married boyfriend.’
‘Oh shit, not Andrew Honbold?’ said Ilsa.
‘You know him?’
‘Only slightly.’
‘The Eye’s implying that in addition to shagging her, I’ve been helping her bug Honbold’s bedroom.’
‘Corm, I’m sorry – she’s been trying to get him to leave his wife for ages. She’s completely open about it.’
‘I can’t see Honbold marrying her if he thinks she’s put a private detective on him. Where is she right now, d’you know?’
‘She’ll be at Lavington Court Chambers,’ said Ilsa.
‘OK, I’ll go and wait for her there,’ said Strike.
‘Is that wise?’
‘It’ll be easier to put the fear of God into her in person than over the phone,’ said Strike grimly, already heading towards the Tube station.
44
A man must part company with the inferior and superficial. The important thing is to remain firm.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
This, Strike thought, was the first time he’d been glad that Robin was currently at Chapman Farm. He’d done something bloody stupid, and while the consequences were likely to be more severe for himself than the agency as a whole, he preferred Robin to remain in ignorance of the mess he’d got himself into.
Having looked up the address, Strike made the short journey on the Central line, exiting the Tube at Holborn and heading for Lincoln’s Inn. He then took up a position behind a tree in the gardens from which he could watch the neo-classical façade of Lavington Court Chambers, and waited.
He’d been there for an hour, watching a few people enter, and more leave the building, when his mobile rang. Expecting to see Bijou’s number, he instead saw Shanker’s.
‘Wotcha, Bunsen, just callin’ to say you’re in, wiv Reaney. Twenny-eighth of May. Couldn’t do nuffin’ earlier.’
‘Cheers, Shanker, that’s great news,’ said Strike, still keeping his eyes trained on the entrance of Bijou’s building. ‘He knows I’m coming, right?’
‘Oh, yeah, ’e knows,’ said Shanker. ‘An’ you’ll ’ave a bit of security there, to make sure ’e’s cooperating.’
‘Even better,’ said Strike. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Awright, ’appy ’untin’,’ said Shanker, and rang off.
Strike had just put his mobile back in his pocket when the door of Lavington Court Chambers opened and Bijou descended the steps wearing a bright red coat, setting off in the direction of the Tube station. Strike let her get a head start, then followed. As he walked, he took out his mobile and called her number again. She took her phone out of her bag, still walking, looked at it, then put it back in the bag without answering.
As he wanted to put some distance between himself and Lavington Court Chambers to reduce the possibility of being seen by Bijou’s work colleagues, Strike continued to walk fifty yards behind his quarry until she entered narrow Gate Street. Here, she slowed down, took out her mobile again, apparently to read a recently received text, and finally came to a halt to send a reply. Strike sped up, and when she’d again put her mobile back into her bag, called her name.
