In London, it was raining, driving hard against the windows of Charles Ferguson’s flat in Cavendish Square. Hannah Bernstein peered out through the window and Kim, Ferguson’s Ghurka batman, came in from the kitchen with a pot of coffee and cups on a tray.
Ferguson, sitting by the fire, called, “Come on, Chief Inspector, no point in fretting. Have some coffee.”
She joined him, sitting in the chair opposite, and Kim poured. “No news, sir.”
“I know that,” he said. “But there will be. I mean, there has to be a meaning to all this.”
“I suppose so.”
“You like Dillon, don’t you?”
“If you mean do I fancy him, no. I don’t approve and never have. His past damns him.”
“And still you like him?”
“I know. It’s an absolute bastard, isn’t it, sir? But never mind.”
“So how did you get on at Wandsworth?”
“I saw Dunkerley, the head of security, and he told me pretty much what he told you when you phoned him. The prison is like a souk on visiting day. No way anyone in reception remembers Brown amongst several hundred people. As Mr. Dunkerley said, it was rather unfortunate that the prison officer, Jackson, the only one who handled Brown personally, was killed in that accident.”
“Accident, my backside,” Ferguson said.
“That’s what the police report says, sir. All available witnesses say he just fell forward.”
“Too damn convenient. What about the Law Society?”
“They have three George Browns on their books, or did. One died a month ago, the second is black, and the third is famous for going to court in a wheelchair.”
“I see.”
“I’ve got a copy of the reception-area surveillance tape, but only one person could identify Brown from it.”
“Riley?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Oh dear,” Ferguson said. “And one more piece of news for you. Captain Carter has been in touch on the way back to Cyprus. He and his team were having a conference in the saloon of their boat when it appears they were gassed. They all passed out for several hours.”
“Are they all right, sir?”
“He’s not happy about two of them. They’ll book into the military hospital when they get in. We’ll keep our fingers crossed.”
Dillon, colder than ever now, leaned back against the brick wall. “Jesus,” he said softly. “A fella could tire of this in no time at all.”
There was a sudden flurry in the water and a rat slipped across his right leg. He brushed it away. “So there you are, you little rascal. Now behave yourself.”
FIVE
As they’d allowed him to keep his watch, Dillon was aware of the time, although whether that was a good thing or not, he wasn’t sure, for time seemed to stretch into eternity.
He remembered noticing that it was four o’clock in the morning and then, in spite of the circumstances, he must have dozed because he came awake with a start, a rat leaping from his shoulder, and when he checked the time again, he found that it was seven-thirty.
Not long after that, a light appeared up above and Judas leaned over. “You still in one piece, Dillon?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Good. We’ll take you up.”
The bucket came down, Dillon scrambled his feet into the bucket and was hauled up slowly. As his head passed the brick wall, he saw Judas, Aaron, and Arnold standing there.
“My God, but you stink, Dillon, you really do.” Judas laughed. “Get him out of here, Aaron, and carry on as I suggested.”
He ran up the stairs ahead of them and Aaron said, “I’ll take you back to your room. I think you need a shower.”
“Or three or four,” Dillon said.
He stripped in the bathroom and put the contaminated clothing into a black plastic bag Aaron had provided. Halfway through the second shower Arnold appeared and took the bag away. Dillon tried another shower and then a fourth. As he reached for a towel, Aaron glanced in.
“Fresh clothes on the bed, Mr. Dillon.”
“The right size, I trust.”
“We know everything about you.”
“Shoes? What about shoes?”
“Those, too. I’ll be back when you’re dressed.”
Dillon dried his hair, shaved, then went into the bedroom to discover fresh underwear, a checked shirt, jeans and socks, and a pair of sneakers. He dressed quickly and was combing his hair when the door opened and Aaron appeared.