'I don't think Garvin would approve,' I pointed out.
'Stuff Garvin. I don't need his permission.'
'Woah, I was just pointing out that Warder business possibly wasn't the best way to get some fresh air.'
'You don't need to protect me, Niall.'
'It's not that. I'm already feeling out of my depth. I meant it when I told you I messed up this morning. We could have caught them if I had been quicker on my feet.'
'And then what happens to them?' she asked.
'Whatever. They join the courts? We all live happily ever after?'
'Something tells me that's not what Garvin has planned.'
'I know you don't see eye to eye with him, but you don't have to see a conspiracy in everything he does.'
'Where is Angela?' she asked, innocently.
'The seer? She's staying in the house, isn't she? Garvin said he'd ask Mullbrook to find her somewhere.'
'Have you seen her since then?' she asked.
'Well no, since you come to mention it.'
'So where is she?'
'It's a big house. There are plenty of empty rooms.'
'It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What are they all for?'
'Now you really are going off track. I promise I will find something for you to do.' She squeezed my hand, 'For us to do together, then. Just don't rattle Garvin's cage any more than you have to, OK? He's already on my case.'
'He probably wouldn't approve of you having sex when you're supposed to be on duty,' she said, releasing my hand and stroking across my chest so it brushed my nipple.
'We won't tell him then, eh?'
She released my other hand and leaned down for a long slow kiss. She whispered warm in my ear, 'He's probably listening at the keyhole.' She lifted my hands to her breasts so I could caress my thumbs over her nipples while she stroked down my arms. She wriggled on top of me in response.
'I don't think so,' I said.
'He knows far too much of what goes on in this house,' she said, sitting upright and reaching round behind her to stroke her nails up the inside of my thigh.
'You're not serious,' I asked.
She stared at me wide eyed, while her hands did something far from innocent behind her.
'We'd better give him something to listen to then, I suppose?' she said.
The West End got more crowded as the light faded — party goers, mates out for a drink, people choosing from menus outside brightly lit restaurants. Alex floated past them. At the end of the evening they would all go home. Late buses and lastditch taxis would carry them back to their houses and they could crawl into their beds and dream of happy families.
'You all right, love?' A bloke with his mate in tow staggered towards her. She caught a whiff of the alcohol on his breath.
'Go away,' she said. 'Leave me alone.'
There must have been more in her words than a simple request, because he veered away, dragging his friend behind him. She changed direction and walked into Leicester Square, weaving between couples arm-in-arm, avoiding the crowds of lads out for a good time, staying clear of the girls who were less than subtly touting for business at the edge of the crowd. The cinemas were emptying out after the late showing, the uniformed staff guiding the stragglers out into the square.
'It's your lucky night.' The man approached her smiling, offering his card. 'We're recruiting models and you have the look of tomorrow, you know that? Of course you do, a beautiful girl like you has her career ahead of her. Just take this card to the address on the back and they'll look after you.' He proffered the card.
She smiled, 'You really think so?' She took the card and turned it over. The address was in minute print.
He grinned at her. 'Sure, you're a natural. You're gonna look great in pictures, Baby.' He stepped in close, too close for her liking.
She reached up and tapped him lightly on the forehead. He stepped back, unnerved by her odd reaction. 'I don't think it's your lucky night,' she said. 'I fact, I think your night's going to take a turn downhill.' She turned away.
'Don't say that, Baby. You'll jinx me. I'm just doing my job.'
She called back, 'And don't call me Baby.' Walking on, she wondered how long it would take him to realise that the word 'pervert' was now tattooed across his forehead. She changed course and headed into Soho in case it was sooner rather than later.
As soon as she left the bright lights of the square she wrapped herself in glamour. These were streets she would be cautious around in daytime, even more so after midnight. Taxis rumbled down the streets and a garbage collection giant was grinding and squealing its way down the street, tipping containers of commercial waste out into its dark maw with mechanical efficiency while its minions ran around trying to keep the beast fed. She turned aside, heading vaguely towards Oxford Street and the lighted pillars of Centrepoint and the BT Tower.
The streets grew quieter, punctuated by the chinking rattle of bottles as the pubs cleared out the empties and the occasional roar of a motorcycle taking a short cut down the back streets.
The people out now were drunk, lost or lonely, and she didn't include herself in any of those groups. She walked down the edge of a square, a large patch of brown grass fenced off in the middle with park benches occupied by huddled shapes with draped newspaper, plastic bags and tins of cider. She'd a fair idea of how harsh that life could be and had no wish to join them.
The sudden whiff of a foul drain caught her off guard.
The tumbling rush of turning water, the gut-turning stench of shit, the gulped-off scream as one of them was dragged under…
She shook her head, lifting her hand to push away the mental images that crowded into her brain as she stumbled off the pavement into a doorway. Not now.
Leaning against the door to a swanky advertising boutique, pressing her forehead to the cool glass, she fought to control her breathing. The cold on her skin helped to calm her. She smoothed her hair back from her face, pushing down the memories, concentrating on the moment. She was OK. All that was past, and she had come through it. She could deal with it.
Even so, she couldn't stay the night in a doorway. She had to keep moving.
Despite the summer day, the night was chilling fast and she'd only the skimpy cardie to keep her warm. There was the momentary regret that she could have acquired something warmer, but then she pulled it close about her. She liked her new clothes. They made her feel better. She started walking again.
A movement across the square caught her eye. Something large had just bounded across the grass. She scanned the open space for movement, but there was nothing there. A dog? No, too big, and where was the owner? Something else? In her time at Porton Down she had seen things that she did not want to encounter in the dark London streets. She wrapped her glamour tighter and cut down an alley away from the square, heading back towards the bright lights.
She crossed over Shaftsbury Avenue, wondering whether to head up towards Tottenham Court Road or back down to Leicester Square. She'd been here in the day, shopping for a guitar when she'd discovered a boy she liked was into music and wanted to form a band. Her mum had suggested she sing, but she had balked at that. The kind of music he liked wasn't the sort of music you sang, and her enthusiasm for the guitar had evaporated when she'd discovered that you had to cut your nails and it made your fingers sore. They'd sold it on eBay for half what they paid for it.
Turning away from the music stores, she headed back to Cambridge Circus towards Neal Street. There were some nice boutiques that way and even though they would be closed she could still window-shop. She paused as she crossed Seven Dials. There were a couple getting out of a taxi outside a hotel, the man making a big show of tipping the driver, and it occurred to her that there were places in London full of empty beds that were there for the taking.
She ghosted past the reception where the couple were booking in and went to the lift. The buttons operated
