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‘It was the only way,’ said Robin. ‘We had to use someone they’d never realise had a connection to us. Now we’ve just got to hope she gets that note back.’
Strike got to his feet and began to pace.
‘If they’ve found that note, Zhou’s probably scrambling to pull another Jacob – hide Lin and come up with an alternative blonde, fast. Fuck – this isn’t good… I’m going to call Wardle.’
Strike did so. Robin listened as her partner laid out the problem to his best police contact. As she could have predicted, Wardle needed quite a lot of explanation and repetition before he fully grasped what Strike was telling him.
‘If Wardle finds it hard to believe, I can just imagine how regular officers are going to react,’ said Strike bitterly, having hung up. ‘I don’t think they’ll see it as a top priority, rescuing a girl who’s living at a luxury spa. What’s the time?’
‘Time to go,’ said Robin, shutting down her computer.
‘Are we giving Pat a lift home?’
‘No, she’s meeting her granddaughter. Dennis is going to look after Qing while Will’s with us.’
So Strike and Robin walked together towards the garage where Strike kept his BMW. It was a warm evening; a pleasant change from the intermittent drizzle of the last few days. They’d just reached the garage when Strike’s mobile rang again: Lucy.
‘Hi, what did the GP say?’ he asked.
‘He thinks Ted’s had a mini-stroke.’
‘Oh, shit,’ said Strike, unlocking the car with his free hand.
‘They want to scan him. The earliest they can do is Friday.’
‘Right,’ said Strike, getting into the passenger’s seat while Robin took the wheel. ‘Well, if you like, I’ll go with him. You’re picking up all the slack here.’
‘Thanks, Stick,’ said Lucy. ‘I appreciate that.’
‘Thank Christ he was with you when it happened. Imagine if he’d been alone in St Mawes.’
‘I know,’ said Lucy.
‘I’ll take him for the scan, and afterwards we’ll talk plans, OK?’
‘Yes,’ said Lucy, sounding defeated. ‘OK. How are things with you?’
‘Busy,’ said Strike. ‘I’ll call you later.’
‘Everything all right?’ asked Robin, waiting until Strike had hung up until turning on the ignition.
‘No,’ said Strike, and as they set off up the road, he explained about Ted’s stroke, and his Alzheimer’s, and the burden Lucy was currently bearing, and the guilt he felt about not pulling his weight. In consequence, neither Strike nor Robin noticed the blue Ford Focus that pulled away from the kerb a hundred yards beyond the garage, as Robin accelerated.
The Ford’s speed was often adjusted, which varied the distance between it and the BMW, so that it was sometimes one, and sometimes as many as three cars behind them. Both detectives’ minds were so preoccupied with their separate, joint, general and specific anxieties that both failed to notice they were, again, being followed.
117
K’an represents the heart, the soul locked up within the body, the principle of light enclosed in the dark – that is, reason.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
It was only as Robin approached Prudence’s house that she registered, in some dim region of her mind, that she’d spotted a blue Ford Focus in her rear-view mirror at another point in the journey. She rounded the corner of Prudence’s street, and the blue car drove innocently past. Preoccupied with the imminent meeting between Will and Flora, Robin immediately forgot it again.
‘You’ll like Prudence,’ she said reassuringly to Will, who’d barely spoken during the journey. ‘She’s really nice.’
Will looked up at the large Edwardian house, shoulders hunched and arms folded, an expression of intense misgiving on his face.
‘Hi,’ said Prudence, when she opened the front door, looking understatedly elegant as ever in cream trousers and a matching sweater. ‘Oh.’
