She switched on the charm. Full beam. It hit him with all the force of the military laser the Tenth May Group were supposed to have captured. She was vivacious, funny, clever and far sexier, Horatio soon appreciated, than even Europa, the new Channel 88 soft-porn actress who’d been ordered to change her name. He was on form, too, and for once not burbling.
Eventually Gemma returned. She said that the fight had been caused by a snide remark of Riley’s about the hypocrisy of singing about workers’ rights and opportunities when there were seven million unemployed in the two English regions. Hibbert had apparently threatened to thump him. Not, it turned out, because of Riley’s cynicism, but because he had used the demeaning word ‘unemployed’ rather than ‘involuntarily leisured’ or ‘socially excluded’. Yet it was Riley, not Hibbert, who was jobless. One more indication, thought Horatio, that this Designated Vocab thing was getting out of hand.
Gemma, with nowhere to sit, soon felt herself socially excluded by Cleo’s sub-zero gamma rays. After a short, rather desultory conversation about modem passwords, in which Cleo revealed that she unimaginatively used her mother’s maiden name and her date of birth in exactly the way you’re told not to, Gemma left them to it. She later remarked to Marty that it was like leaving a guinea pig wrapped up snugly in the coils of an anaconda. In America, she said, the phenomenon was called ‘acquaintance/date reverse-rape’.
Not long afterwards, Cleo checked at her watch and said to Horatio: ‘It’s gone oh-three hundred. Looks like bedtime. Coming?’
CHAPTER 9
13.20 SUNDAY 2 MAY
The custody suite door opened and Horatio was escorted upstairs again, except this time he was not handcuffed.
‘Please let go of my elbow. It’s still very sore.’
‘Sorry,’ said the policeperson, not sounding it. Instead of turning right to the interview room again, he was led straight to the front desk and given back his watch-phone, pager – which he checked had been accessed three times in the last five hours – and other belongings.
A door opened behind Horatio and Chief Inspector Snell emerged. He was white with fury. Unable to look Horatio fully in the face, he spoke slowly through clenched teeth with studied self-control. He was quivering with rage.
‘You can tell your young friend in the autopark that I do not care if this is political. In my opinion, especially as the lab have now confirmed asphyxiation, you’re a killer. We’ve checked Central Records and know all about your links with Baltic separatism. We’ve got easily enough to slam you up. I mean to take this to the highest authorities right now. You can also tell your Mr High-and-Mighty from Political that I’ve put in an official complaint with the Interior Commissioner himself. In my opinion you’ll be back in custody within twenty-four hours. Now piss off.’
Horatio was too stunned by the news to make any snide remark about not wanting to spoil the Chief Inspector’s chances of becoming a cable celebrity. He briefly considered telling him to keep his hair on, but if it turned out Snell was wearing a wig he might have been charged with offensiveness towards a minority, in this case the follicularly-challenged. The very last thing he needed now was a two-day Holding Order being taken out. Neither did he think there was much point in arguing the toss about Leila. So he just walked out of the tinted glass sliding doors to freedom.
It took a couple of seconds for Horatio’s eyes to get accustomed from the darkness of the cell to the bright light of the sunny May afternoon. Once they were, he was able to make out the smiling face of his saviour, standing by the open door of a petrol-auto rather cockily parked on the pavement outside the station.
CHAPTER 10
13.23 SUNDAY 2 MAY
‘I hope you realise I’m putting my balls on the block for you over this,’ Marty said as soon as Horatio got in. He’d always prided himself on his felicitous turn of phrase. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ He started the car and drove out of the police compound. Making his way through Basingstoke city centre, Marty sailed through red lights, ignoring cyclists and pedestrians and generally driving in a way only those immune from prosecution can.
‘You tell me. God knows, except that I’m clearly being set up for murder. How did you fix this?’
‘I’ve told the C.I.D. jerk, Snell, that it’s political and therefore out of their hands. P.I.D. can do things like that every so often. But not very often and certainly not again in this case. Now what have you got yourself mixed up in?’
They pulled into Basingstoke’s Megamarket Autopark so that Marty could hear every inflection of the conversations with Percival and Ratcliffe off Horatio’s pager. ‘Let’s have that last bit again,’ he said as they listened first to the Admiral. Horatio pressed ‘Rewind’ for half a second.
‘None at all over the phone, but I’ll draw up a memorandum for you to take away afterwards. Something to make you and your editor’s hair stand on end. I’ll do that right now.’
Marty was concentrating. Horatio just felt nauseous. He listened to the dead man’s voice – all trusting and confidential.
‘Be careful and please will you tell no one about this. About me.’
‘I promise.’
‘I mean it, it really matters.’
And it had mattered. It had mattered to death. Yet he had told Weaning about Ratcliffe, and as good as told Percival as well. Then he’d left his jacket on the back of a chair at the party for anyone to pick up. He’d betrayed the old man just as surely as if he’d denounced him publicly.
Horatio’s gorge rose. He had to get out of the auto. He didn’t have long. It could have been the revolting prison lunch, the pollen count, the heat, but Horatio knew it was actually guilt and shame. And fear.
His mouth was filling with saliva. He dashed over to the bottlebank, pushed a child away and vomited into the hole. The mother stared in disgust and yanked the kid away. Afterwards Horatio walked shamefacedly back to the car, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Marty looked worried.
‘Are you OK?’ Horatio wasn’t, but he nodded.
‘Now listen to the conversation I had with Commission Secretary Percival just before Ratcliffe.’ He pressed ‘Rewind’. Then ‘Play’.
Nothing.
He rewound for another five seconds and pressed ‘Play’ again. Still nothing.
‘It’s been wiped!’
‘How do you mean?’
‘That bastard at the police station has erased my talk with Percival!’
Marty was sympathetic but unsurprised.
‘This is very serious, Horror. Are you certain you want to be mixed up in it, whatever it is?’ Marty, a far braver man, was clearly rattled.
‘Let’s get away from here.’
It was no answer, but Horatio was trying to think. Marty drove off. ‘How did you know I was there?’
‘We hear everything. I was told this morning that the department has been shadowing you since the first Aachen article in The Times. It was a touch too salty for Bittersich’s taste. I pleaded your case, pointed out that the Leila business was all just a giant misunderstanding and generally tried to dampen it all down. He wanted to reopen your case.’
‘Those articles could hardly be described as subversive.’
‘You don’t know the sort of paranoiacs and hysterics I have to work with. Anyhow, someone was detailed to keep an eye on you.’
‘Who?’
‘You know I can’t tell you that.’
‘Fine, don’t say. But could you find out if Alex Tallboys’ – Marty smiled – ‘has access to a grey petrol-auto which he was driving near Ibworth this morning.’ He explained what had happened. Marty nodded.
‘Fine, I can look into this. What registration?’
‘Don’t know. I was too busy not getting run over to note it down.’
‘OK. What grade then?’
‘Don’t know that either.’
‘You can’t tell me what grade? You really are useless!’
‘They all look alike to me. I don’t like aut
os. I think a 2.’
‘This is a 2. Does it look like this?’
‘Sort of. Except it was grey. Anyhow, it tried to run me down this morning as I was walking towards the Admiral’s house. There might be a bump where the wing mirror smashed into my elbow.’ It was still very sore.
Horatio realised Marty had been ignoring the signs to London. In fact he was driving in the opposite direction.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’ Half a minute later Horatio saw the sign ‘Twinned with Rannoch … Obvirsk … La Grenche …’
‘Why are you taking me back here?!’
They stopped in the Free Fox autopark. Marty turned to him.
‘We are not doing anything. You are. Work it out for yourself Dr Logic. Wait until tonight. Set your pager alarm for about oh-three hundred. Then put on these’ – Marty handed Horatio a pair of black plastic surgical gloves – ‘and using this’ – a heavy black torch – ‘go straight back into the Rectory to find whatever it was the Admiral was intending to give you. This memorandum he was talking about on the tape. Obviously Snell hasn’t got it, otherwise he’d have told me. If you find the murder weapon for God’s sake leave it well alone. They’re doing checks on the sofa cushions. Our newest equipment can pick up any D.N.A. traces, right down to shed skin microbes, so be sure to wash tonight. But do turn the bloody place upside down if you have to. Whatever the Admiral was trying to pass on to you is obviously the key to this whole shambazz.’
The logic was as impeccable as the implications were horrendous. Horatio would be breaking into and entering a house where a murder had recently taken place.
‘What do I do if …’
‘When.’
‘… when I find whatever it is?’
‘Whatever you think best. I suggest you contact me right away. But not at the office. At home. I expect my releasing you is going to be pretty controversial back at Thames House. I had E’s initial approval, but that might not be for long. He hadn’t cleared it properly with Brussels by the time I got on to Snell. And they hate taking any independent action. “E” only agreed to it because I said I thought you’d been framed in a Tenth May plot to punish Aachen Referendum scrutineers. It doesn’t really hold any water though, does it? I also said that there were no fingerprints on anything but the door handles and phone, but they couldn’t have heard about you being mentioned in the will by the time I got here. It came as a shock when Snell told me, although of course I pretended I already knew. It’ll put the wind up the office though. What the hell was all that about?’
‘God knows. I assume it’s all part of the frame-up. Will you get me a copy?’
‘I’ll do my best.’ There was a pause. It became uncomfortable. Marty was staring at Horatio intently. ‘Horror? …’ Marty seemed embarrassed.
‘Yes?’
‘You didn’t do it, did you?’ He wasn’t joking.
‘Sod you Marty!’
Horatio got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. A couple of lunchtime drinkers sitting on benches outside the pub looked up from their half-litres. Without turning round to say goodbye, Horatio marched inside, shoving the torch and gloves into his jacket pockets as he went. He heard the auto drive off behind him.
Five minutes later Horatio was sitting alone in the Free Fox snug, nursing an aching elbow, a half-litre of Brunswick Bitter and a gigantic sulk. Marty came in.
‘Sorry.’ They shook hands.
‘So you bloody well should be. How dare you not trust me, however bad it may look.’ Marty sat down.
‘I know. I thought that as soon as I’d said it. I’m sorry, truly I am.’
There was a pause. Marty continued: ‘I’ve just thought of something.’
‘What?’ said Horatio gruffly.
‘How are you getting back to London tomorrow?’
‘Hadn’t thought.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I haven’t even decided to go along with your lunatic burglary scheme.’
‘That’s a given and you know it. But afterwards what? You can hardly use public transport if you’re wanted by then. Your I.D. will give you away, or the cameras at the stations.’
Horatio clicked.
‘You’re going to have to take me, aren’t you?’ Marty nodded unhappily. Horatio dropped his voice to a whisper again: ‘Which also means you’re going to have to help me break into the Rectory tonight.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Of course it does. You’ve probably done it before in your line of work. Burgling places, installing bugs, that kind of thing.’
‘Do keep your voice down, Horrid. I’m a pro, an executive. All that Action Person stuff is done by the Neanderthals. Only Alex Tallboys actually volunteers for it. And I can hardly get him or one of our other boneheads in on something as very … al fresco as this.’
‘You know you have to come with me then.’ Horatio was elated. ‘Sorry, Marty, I’m so accident-prone I’d be bound to make a mess of it, or miss something crucial. Remember when we tried to gatecrash the Oriel Commem?’ Horatio had broken his ankle and Marty had had to take him to hospital. He suspected it was this malcoordination, rather than any great concern for his travel arrangements, which had brought Marty back. ‘I was trying to persuade myself that you were up to the job, but just outside Ibworth I thought about it. Someone who could recite Macaulay at eight but couldn’t tie up his shoelaces by fourteen was probably not the right bloke for this kind of op. You’d probably break your neck going up and down the stairs in the dark.’
As Marty got up to buy himself a drink, Horatio asked if he could borrow his I.D. to make a few calls.
‘Why not use your own?’
‘I hardly want the police to know I went straight back to the scene, do I?’
‘Who are you calling?’
‘My mother, The Times and the divine Cleopatra.’ Marty snatched the card back.
‘Only if you promise to tell me all about Friday night.’
Horatio had some trouble getting to the pub vid-phone for all the young children playing tag in the bar area. How he loathed the Kiddies’ Charter.
‘Hi!’ His mother looked grey. Grey-haired and grey-faced. Almost Major-grey.
‘Hello Horace, I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to get hold of you and all I get is your home module.’ She knew perfectly well it was called a modem. Horatio suspected she played up her technological illiteracy on purpose. He decided not to tell her what had happened. He could explain it all if things worked out. If they didn’t, he would have plenty of time to tell her everything.
‘Why should Admiral Michael Ratcliffe have left me half his fortune in his will?’
Heather Lestoq looked surprised. ‘What are you doing with him, of all people?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Where are you?’ He could see her shifting in her seat trying to get a better view of the bar behind him, looking for a clue. He blocked her.
‘Tell me. It’s an emergency.’
‘Well, he was Flora’s father-in-law.’ It was one of the very few times he had ever heard her mention her sister. ‘She married James Ratcliffe, the Admiral’s son. I’d no idea he wanted to leave you anything. I’d have been nicer to him if I’d known!’
‘Why haven’t you spoken to me about him?’
‘Your father and I didn’t like him. He’d adjudicated the Aachen Referendum, you see. Is that how you’ve come across him?’ Still sharp. ‘Super articles in The Times by the way darling. I’m really proud of you.’ It wasn’t often she said that. ‘How is the old traitor?’
‘I’ll tell you all about him when I see you.’
‘I’m glad you’re coming down this weekend.’
‘Who else will be there?’
‘Marcia said she’d pop in with the children.’
‘I think I might be busy actually.’
‘Horace!’ Why of all his many nicknames – Horror, Horrid, Horrific, Horrible, Horseface and so on – did she call him the only one he couldn’t stand?
; ‘We’d only row.’
‘It takes two to row.’
‘Fine, there’d be two of us.’
‘Well, it’s a shame. And how can you make up if you don’t meet or talk?’
‘Sorry.’
‘All right, we’ll arrange a different day. I’ll probably be coming up to London for the rally this Saturday anyway. Will I see you there?’
‘What rally?’
‘What do you mean, what rally! You’re supposed to be a journalist! The King’s giving a speech in Hyde Park. The Commission have said it can go ahead, the fools. Isn’t that exciting?’
It was his turn to tease her.
‘I thought you’d given up all that boring political stuff.’
‘I have, but one can still keep one’s beliefs. Everyone from here’s going up. It’d be disloyal not to. There’ll be thousands of us. Tens of thousands. It’ll be a historic event. You should be there. It’ll be the first time the King …’
‘Of New Zealand.’
‘Of more than that and you know it, has set foot …’
‘Mum, this vid could easily be tapped. Marty Frobisher says Cheltenham have machines now that can listen to one hundred thousand lines simultaneously. They trigger on tapes if certain words are said. You can bet your bottom euro that the word you’ve just used to denote the first citizen of a certain Pacific island is one of them. So for goodness’ sake …’
She held up her hands in surrender. ‘All right! All right! Stop nagging. You know what I mean.’
‘I do. And no, I won’t be there. It’s just for you fogies who live in the past, all that kind of thing. How about the weekend after? I could come down then. Or will Dick be there?’
‘As a matter of fact he will. But I think you should show your face.’
While Horatio considered it she continued, ‘How funny that old Admiral Ratpoison should remember you in his will. Is there much cash, do you know? I seem to remember he was rolling in it.
The Aachen Memorandum Page 8
