terrorist alert in Harrods and the discovery of the small girl, his cue to introduce Diamond.
The interview went precisely as planned, with no trick questions and no stumbling answers. Afterwards, there was a chance to watch a recording, and Diamond was pleased to see how strongly the appeal to the viewers came over. Cedric Athelhampton emerged at last from the control room, a pencil-thin man dressed entirely in white, and shook Diamond's hand. 'Stunning, my love, simply stunning. You must have been handcrafted for television, every chunky pound of you, did you know that? Such a substantial presence, a marvelous contrast with the little girl. My only problem now is that I didn't warn the BBC about the calls. I'm perfectly certain me switchboard's jammed already. I'm going to get it in the neck, but it was bloody good television, and I'll say so in my defense.'
'What about these calls?' Diamond asked, suddenly perturbed.
'What do you mean?'
'Who's taking mem?'
'They're being put through to my office, to my assistant, Justine, at present. Between you, me and the BBC, ninety-nine percent will be duff. The proverbial pisspot full of crabapples. Kids get carried away when someone with Curtis' charm and flair makes an appeal for information. Isn't he irresistible?'
Diamond was in no frame of mind for discussing anyone's charm and flair. He was furious with himself for failing to think ahead. He'd been far too preoccupied with the program. 'Right now I'm interested in the calls, the one percent. Is Justine capable of recognizing the real thing?'
Cedric smiled roguishly. 'The real thing? How would I know?' Reacting fast to Diamond's glare, he added, 'She's bright, as bright as a guardsman's buttons. Don't fret' He squeezed Diamond's arm. 'We'll let you know if we strike lucky.'
But Diamond wasn't satisfied. He insisted on being taken to the office where Justine was answering the phone.
She had a notepad open and a pencil in her hand, and was talking into a headset. 'Thank you, dear. Now give the phone to Mummy.' She glanced up at Diamond. 'Sodding little brats.' She pressed another switch and said wearily,' 'What About the Kids'… Where exactly did you see her?
Maybe it wasn't opportune to ask if any of the calls seemed promising.
Justine said, 'The parents give mem these ideas. They must do. They're dafter than the kids.' She told Diamond, 'I know why you're here. I've been doing this for over an hour and they're still coming in nonstop. Do me a favor and get me a sarnie and an orange juice from the canteen, would you? By then I might have got myself sorted.'
He didn't argue; he was going to have to rely on Justine.
She'd removed the headset when he returned. She bit hungrily into the sandwich. 'Thanks. What do I owe you?'
'Just a summing-up,' he told her. 'Have we struck gold, or not?'
'You're the judge of that. What it boils down to is at least twelve callers who swear they know her, at school, or in a dancing class, or something. I've got their numbers so you can call them back. And there was one spooky call.'
'What do you mean-spooky?'
'I didn't like the sound of it one bit. A Japanese woman. Well, I think she was Japanese. She sounded Japanese to me.
'Did she give her name?'
'No. That's the point. She refused. And she didn't say anything about knowing who Naomi is, like all the other callers did. All she would say was that she was under instructions to send you a message. A taxi would be sent for you at seven.'
'Sent here?'
'Yes. If you really want to help Naomi, you're to get into the taxi, both of you.'
'Naomi as well?'
'Yes.'
'That was all? She didn't say where the taxi would take us?'
Justine shook her head. 'Will you do it?'
'Did you get the impression she was serious?'
'Mr. Diamond, she was so serious that if I were you I'd think twice about going.'
'I'm not looking for a bunch of laughs,' said Diamond. 'What time is it now?'
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Quick reactions can be vital to success; they can also get you into trouble. In the taxi, Diamond remembered he was no longer a senior policeman. He was doing the professional thing, following the only real lead to come out of the television program. But as a detective acting on a tipoff he would have routinely radioed his movements to headquarters.
He asked the driver where they were going.
'My lips are sealed, mate.'
'Oh, come on!'
'The Albert Hall!'
'Get stuffed.'
He should have phoned the school, or at least got someone to pass a message to Julia Musgrave. For a middle-aged man to transport a small girl around London without informing her guardians wasn't just misguided, it deserved all the outrage it would trigger. The point wasn't that Julia would suspect him of abducting the child-she'd credited him with some responsibility up to now-but others would. Sexual abuse-of children, an evil he was incapable of understanding, had come under the media spotlight in recent months and it wouldn't require much for a woman like Mrs. Straw to brand him as a pervert. To be fair to Mrs. Straw, any policeman would be duty bound to treat such an allegation seriously. He resolved to get to a phone as soon as possible after they reached their destination.
And it was the Albert Hall.
The moment he and Naomi stepped out in Kensington Gore, opposite the north door, they were approached by a Japanese woman. Diamond cupped a hand around Naomi's head and steered her protectively towards him. He was taking no chances.
The woman gave a deep, ceremonious bow. She looked about sixty, far too old to be Naomi's mother. There was a wart at the left edge of her upper lip. 'Mr. Diamond?'
'Yes.'
'Please come with me.'
'In a moment, madam.' He settled the fare. As his right hand returned to his side he felt Naomi clutch the ends of his fingers tightly. Clearly she didn't regard the woman as family. They followed her towards the building and he noticed Naomi's head go back, to take in the scale of the building's red-brick exterior. A casserole dish for the gods, he always thought when he saw the Albert Hall. You could imagine a divine hand lifting the roof, inserting an enormous ladle and giving the contents a stir during the singing of 'Land of Hope and Glory' on the last night of the Proms.
The woman moved briskly up a short flight of steps and through the arched entrance as if the Albert Hall were her home. She was dressed in expensive Western clothes, a fawn silk jacket and finely tailored dark brown trousers. Her gold-framed glasses had a long retaining chain that danced on her shoulders.
By the time they entered the building, Naomi's grip was threatening to stop the circulation in Diamond's hand. The woman turned right, leading them along the main passage that surrounds the auditorium. Others were moving about in there, young people for the most part, with the age and appearance of students. Yet Diamond didn't have the impression that the Hall was being used for a concert, whether pop or classical. Precisely what was being staged down here this week he didn't know. Slack thinking, he chided himself. He ought to have asked someone at the Television Center.
