it, there it was, plain as day. Her number. 06082011. Less than a year to go. And suddenly her nervousness started to make sense. At some level, whether she understood why or not, she was scared of what I knew. She looked at me, a rabbit caught in the headlights, then swallowed hard and turned away.
Sure enough, the police came back, and the social worker, Imogen. There were other people, too: men in dark suits, who sat at the back of the room, listening. Karen sat in on the questioning, as the police went over and over the same ground as the day before. I stalled them for a bit while I tried to figure out what they really wanted to know; yes, there were questions about the day at the London Eye, and about Spider, but there was other stuff, too. Someone had obviously told them about the numbers. At this point, the police took a step back and the men in suits came and sat at the table.
“We’ve been hearing stuff about you, Jem. Interesting stuff. Like the reason why you ran from the Embankment. They’re saying you can predict the future? You can tell when people are going to die. That right?”
I looked down, saying nothing. One of them produced a set of photographs from his briefcase.
“Look at these photos and tell me what you see. How long has this one got? Or this one? Can you tell me?”
They went on and on, until I was hearing that edge of stress and frustration in their voices again.
Then I spoke.
“I can tell you. I can tell you everything you want to know.”
They sat up then, looked quickly at each other – little triumphant glances – and then back at me.
“Yes, I was there at the London Eye, and I’m pretty sure I saw the bloke who was carrying the bomb. I even spoke to him. I can give you a description. I can tell you about the guy with the tattoos and why he was chasing us. I can even tell you about these pictures.” They were excited now, almost drooling. “I could tell you, and I will, if you bring my mate, Spider, here. I’ll make a full statement, and then we want a car, and some money, a thousand should do it, and we want you to leave us alone and let us get out of here.”
The guy in the suit leaned forward. “I don’t think you realize what trouble you and your mate are in. You’re looking at some serious charges here. You’re not in a position to negotiate.”
He didn’t faze me at all. I’d thought this all through – they needed me to talk. “Actually, I think I am. I know you want to solve the bombing, don’t you? And you’d love to know whether your prime minister’s got a future, wouldn’t you? Is he here for the next ten years or going to be taken out by a sniper’s bullet? Does that interest you?”
“We’ll need to talk about this.” He scraped his chair back and went outside with the others. Karen stayed behind.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “What are you saying?”
“I told you yesterday. You just didn’t believe me.”
“Jem, this has got to stop. These tall tales – it’s gone far enough now, Jem. Stop saying these things. Let me take you home and look after you.”
“No! It’s not gonna happen. I need them to bring Spider here, and I’m not budging until they do.”
She sighed, and I could tell she was about to launch into another weary lecture, when the door opened again. The men in suits were back.
“OK,” one of them said, “it’s a deal.”
My stomach flipped over. I couldn’t believe it – I’d won.
“You’ll bring Spider here?”
He nodded. “After you’ve given us a full statement.”
“And you’ll provide us with a car and some money like I said?”
He nodded again, but there was something in the way that the two policemen behind him looked at each other that made me suspicious.
“I want it all in writing,” I said quickly. “I want you to sign it. A legal agreement.”
And that’s what I got, there in black and white. I would tell the police what they wanted to know, and they would bring Spider to me before the fifteenth of December and provide us with safe passage out of the abbey. Not being great at reading, I took my time, but it seemed OK. I asked Karen to check it, too, but she refused.
“This is stupid, Jem. I don’t want anything to do with it.” She watched while I signed the paper and then announced, “I’m going to get back to the boys now. They need me, too. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
She gave me a big hug before she left. “Imogen and Anne will be here with you. And you’re to ring if you need anything.”
“OK,” I said. To be honest, I felt a little twinge as she left. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye – perhaps we never would – but she meant well, I could see that now. But I had to stay focused – everything was going according to plan. All I had to do was tell them what they wanted to know, and then they’d have to keep their side of the bargain.
They’d have to bring Spider here.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I gave them exactly what they were waiting to hear. I held some of it back, of course. None of their sodding business what had happened between Spider and me. That was between us. But everything else, plus some “information” of my own about people in the photos they showed me.
They talked to me, with a tape recorder going, and then they wrote it all down and got me to sign it. I had no problem putting my name to it. This was all part of the plan, taking me one step nearer to where I wanted to be.
“So when do I see Spider?” I said when I’d signed the statement.
“It’ll take a bit of arranging – they’re still interviewing him. He was taken back to London, Paddington Green.”
“Now just wait a minute…”
“No, it’s all right, love. I’m going to take your statement back to London, see how they’re getting on, and then I’ll be back. I’ll bring Dawson back here.”
So it was going to be a few hours, then. Nothing I could do about that.
They gathered their stuff together, clipped their briefcases shut, and were gone. On the way out, they shook hands with me, like we were business partners or something.
By now it was lunchtime and Anne, the rector’s wife, had brought me some scrambled eggs on toast, kept warm under a wrapping of silver foil. She didn’t eat with me, but kind of hung around, like she was waiting for something. Eventually, she squeezed some words out awkwardly.
“Jem, can I talk to you?”
I shrugged. Didn’t bother me one way or the other.
She went up to the door and closed it, so that we were alone together in the vestry, just me and her.
“They’re saying…they’re saying that you can tell when people are going to die.” Her face was creased into a frown as she searched my face.
I tried not to look, but I couldn’t avoid her eyes, her need for contact was too strong. 06082011.
“Oh?” I said, willing her not to ask me.
“I’m ill, Jem. I’ve got an illness. I haven’t told Stephen, so please…don’t…”
Hearing her speak the rector’s – her husband’s – name made him more human; made me think I might have been wrong about him earlier. Yes, he was going to live for another thirty years or so, but maybe he wasn’t going to be spoiled for the rest of his life. Maybe it was going to be lonely nights, takeout and boiled eggs on his own in an empty house.
“The thing is…I need to know. How long I’ve got. So I can plan things, make sure the children are OK, make
