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She looked round, and was clearly horrified to see who had called her.
‘I’d like a word, in there,’ he said grimly, pointing to a pub called the Ship, which was tucked away in a pedestrian-only alleyway visible between two buildings.
‘Why?’
‘Have you read today’s Private Eye?’
‘I – yes.’
‘Then you know why.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Want to be seen with me? Then you should’ve answered your phone.’
She looked as though she’d have liked to refuse to go with him, but let him lead her into the alleyway. When he held open the door of the Ship, she walked in past him, her expression cold.
‘I’d rather go upstairs,’ she said.
‘Fine by me,’ said Strike. ‘What d’you want to drink?’
‘I don’t care – red wine.’
Five minutes later he joined her upstairs in the low-ceilinged, dimly lit Oak Room. She’d taken off her coat to reveal a tight red dress, and was sitting in a corner with her back to the room. Strike set her wine on the table before sitting down opposite her, holding a double whisky. He didn’t intend to stay long enough for a pint.
‘You’ve been shooting your mouth off about me.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘“A mole at Lavington Court Chambers—”’
‘I know what it said!’
‘You need to make it very clear to this Honbold individual that I never gave you any advice on surveillance.’
‘I’ve already told him that!’
‘Seen the article, has he?’
‘Yes. And the Mail have been on to him. And the Sun. But he’s going to deny everything,’ she added, her bottom lip trembling.
‘I’ll bet he is.’
Strike watched unsympathetically as Bijou dug in her pockets for a tissue and blotted her eyes carefully so as not to disturb her make-up.
‘What are you going to do when journos turn up at your flat?’ he asked.
‘Tell them I never slept with him. It’s what Andrew wants.’
‘You’re going to deny you ever slept with me, as well.’
She said nothing. Suspecting he knew what lay behind her silence, he said,
‘I’m not going to be collateral damage in all this. We met at a christening, that’s all. If you still think Honbold’s going to be spurred into leaving his wife out of jealousy that we’re screwing, you’re deluded. I doubt he’d touch you with a bargepole after this.’
‘You bastard,’ she croaked, still mopping her eyes and nose. ‘I liked you.’
‘You were playing a little game that blew up in your face, but I’m not going to get caught in the crossfire, so understand now, there’ll be consequences if you try and save face by saying we’re having an affair.’
