AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Strike paused the news report again.
‘Just thought you’d like to see it,’ he said.
‘You were right,’ said Robin, beaming.
‘Almost enough to make you believe in God, isn’t it? I tipped off Fergus Robertson as soon as I heard from Wardle. I’ve given him a good few pointers as to where to get some scoops. Think it’s time to turn up the heat on Jonathan Wace as high as we can. Got time for a coffee?’
‘A quick one,’ said Robin, checking her watch. ‘Could I borrow a charger?’
This provided, and coffee made, they sat down at the small Formica table.
‘Becca’s still at the Rupert Court Temple,’ said Strike.
‘How d’you know?’
‘She took the service today, which I got Midge to attend, wigged up.’
‘I thought Midge was watching Hampstead?’
‘Oh, yeah, I forgot – she got pictures of him with a bloke on the heath last night.’
‘When you say “pictures”—’
‘I doubt they’ll be featuring on the family Christmas card,’ said Strike. ‘I’ll let the client know on Monday, because he’s home with her and the kids right now.’
‘Go on about Becca.’
‘She didn’t leave at the end of the service. Midge is still watching Rupert Court, minus her wig, obviously. She’s confident Becca’s still in there. Doors locked.’
‘Haven’t the police been?’
‘Presumably they’re more interested in the compounds.’
‘Is Becca alone?’
‘Dunno. She could well be planning to make a break for it – unless she fancies taking the Stolen Prophet’s way out, of course.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Robin, thinking of Carrie Curtis Woods hanging in the family garage. ‘If we know where she is—’
‘We do nothing – nothing,’ said Strike firmly, ‘until we hear from Barclay.’
‘But—’
‘Did you hear me?’
‘For God’s sake, I’m not a bloody schoolchild!’
‘Sorry,’ said Strike. The residue of his hour’s anxiety hadn’t yet dispersed. ‘Look, I know you think I keep boring on about that gun, but we still don’t know where it is – which is a pain in the arse,’ he added, checking his watch, ‘because we’re on the clock, now the police have gone in. People are going to start arse-covering or making themselves unavailable for interview. They’ll have an excuse for only communicating through lawyers now, as well.’
‘D’you think they’ve got the Waces?’ said Robin, whose thoughts had roved irresistibly back to Chapman Farm. ‘They must have Mazu, at least. She never leaves the place. God, I’d like to be a fly on the wall when they start questioning her…’
Memories of people she’d got to know over her four months at the farm were revolving in her mind as though it was a zoetrope: Emily, Shawna, Amandeep, Kyle, Walter, Vivienne, Louise, Marion, Taio, Jiang… who’d talk? Who’d lie?
‘I had bloody Rosie Fernsby on the phone at lunchtime,’ said Strike.
‘What did she want?’
‘To go to a yoga class this afternoon. The glamour of being a hunted woman’s worn off.’
