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‘Yeah. He died a few hours after you left. They buried him on the far side of the field, by the oak,’ said Will, who hadn’t previously disclosed this. ‘I watched them do it.’
Robin was too distressed by this information to say anything except, ‘Oh.’
‘And,’ said Will, ‘we – I had to help—’
He swallowed and pressed on.
‘—I had to help dig up Kevin. They put him in the field, first, but they moved him to the vegetable patch instead, to punish Louise – his… mother.’
‘What?’ said Vanessa Ekwensi, her pen hovering over her pad.
‘She tried to… she went to plant flowers on him, in the field,’ said Will, turning red. ‘And someone saw her, and reported her to Mazu. So Mazu said, if she wanted to plant stuff on a Deviate, she could. And they dug him up and put him in the vegetable patch and made Louise plant carrots on him.’
The horrified silence that followed these words was broken by Strike’s mobile buzzing. He glanced at the text he’d received, then looked up at Will.
‘We’ve found Lin: she’s been moved to Birmingham.’
Will looked stunned.
‘They’ve let her out to fundraise?’
‘No,’ said Strike. ‘She’s in the church compound, helping look after the babies.’
He answered Shah’s text, giving further instructions, then looked up at the police.
‘Look, we’re not stupid: we know you can’t authorise or even guarantee a massive investigation like this, right now, tonight. But you’ve got two people here who are willing to testify to widespread criminality, and we’re sure there’ll be many more, if only you can get into those church centres and start asking questions. Robin’s ready to go to court about everything she saw, too. There’s going to be glory in this, for whoever takes the UHC down,’ said Strike, ‘and I’ve already got a journalist who’s gagging to run an exposé.’
‘That’s not a threat, is it?’ said Murphy.
‘No,’ said Robin, before Strike could say anything, ‘it’s a fact. If we can’t get a police investigation without the press, we’ll let the journalist have it and try and force one that way. If you’d been in there, as I have, you’d understand exactly why every day the UHC is getting away with it counts.’
After that, Strike noticed with satisfaction, Murphy said nothing more.
At ten o’clock, the meeting broke up, with handshakes all round. Vanessa Ekwensi and Eric Wardle, who’d taken most notes, separately promised to get back to Strike and Robin quickly.
Strike determinedly didn’t watch Murphy kissing Robin goodbye and telling her he’d see her the next day, because she was taking over surveillance on Hampstead from Midge in an hour’s time. However, Strike gained some pleasure from Murphy’s clear unhappiness at leaving his girlfriend alone with her partner.
‘Well,’ said Robin, sitting back down at the table, ‘it went about as well as could be expected, I suppose.’
‘Yeah, not bad,’ said Strike.
‘So what happened in Norfolk?’
‘I got an earful, as expected,’ said Strike. ‘They’re definitely rattled. What about Isaac Mills?’
‘No word yet. He might not fancy meeting me at all.’
‘Don’t despair yet. It’s pretty monotonous in the nick.’
‘D’you think you’ll have to go back to Reaney?’ asked Robin, as the waitress re-entered the room to clear away pint glasses and both detectives got to their feet.
‘Maybe,’ said Strike, ‘but I doubt he’ll talk until he has to.’
They climbed the stairs together, emerging onto Oxford Street, where Strike pulled out his vape pen and took a long-awaited lungful of nicotine.
‘I’m parked up the road. There’s no need to escort me,’ Robin added, correctly guessing what Strike was about to say, ‘it’s still crowded and I definitely wasn’t followed here. I kept checking, all the way.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Strike. ‘Speak tomorrow, then.’
