Echo

burning his hand, or the Christian God through his preaching?'

'Where does the 'one descending in clouds' fit in?'

'I think that's his symbolic view of salvation. He talks about waiting 'in vain' so he obviously doesn't believe in it-or not for himself anyway-but if it does happen it will be in the form of a deus ex machina, a sudden amazing apparition who reaches into the bottomless pit to raise him up.'

'Poor bastard,' said Deacon with feeling. 'I wonder what sort of murder it was that made him think he was beyond the pale of salvation?' He shivered suddenly and noticed that Terry was rubbing his hands in an effort to keep warm. 'Come on, it's damn cold in here. Let's go and get that drink.'

Barry watched Terry play the fruit machines with money supplied by Deacon. 'He's a nice lad,' he said.

Deacon lit a cigarette and followed his gaze. 'He's been living on the streets since he was twelve years old. It sounds as if he has Billy to thank for the fact that he's as straight as he is.'

'What will you do with him when Christmas is over?'

'I don't know. He needs educating but I can't see him agreeing to going back into care. It's a bit of a poser really, one of those bridges you only cross when you come to it.' He turned back to Barry. 'Was he helpful on the photographs?'

'A little quick to discard the improbables, but it doesn't seem to register with him that Billy was much younger than he looked. I had to rescue one or two.' He took an envelope from his pocket which contained various prints. He spread them across the table. 'What do you think of these?'

Deacon isolated a high-quality photocopy of a young fair-haired man staring directly into the camera. 'I recognize this one. Who is he?'

Barry tittered happily. 'That's James Streeter, taken twenty-odd years ago when he graduated from Durham University. He was brought up in Manchester so, out of interest, I applied to the local newspapers and one of them produced that. It's extraordinary, isn't it?'

'He's a dead ringer for Billy.'

'Only because he was thinner and appears to have had his hair bleached.'

Deacon took out his print of Billy and laid it beside the young James Streeter. 'Have you compared these two on the computer?'

'Yes, but they're not the same man, Mike. It's a closer match because we're looking at a similar relationship between camera angle and subject, but the differences are still obvious. Most notably the ears.' He picked up the cigarette packet and placed it across the bottom half of Billy's face with the upper edge touching the bottom of an earlobe. 'It is all about angle, of course, but Billy's lobes are larger than James's and their bottom edge is roughly in line with his mouth.' He moved the packet to the other photograph and placed it in the same relative position. 'James has hardly any lobe at all, and the bottom edge is in line with his nostrils. If you synchronize the eyes, nose, and mouth on the computer, the ears immediately part company, and if you tilt the angles to synchronize the earlobes then the rest parts company.'

'You're pretty good at this, aren't you?'

Pleased color tinged Barry's plump cheeks. 'It's something I enjoy doing.' He nudged the other prints, artfully isolating a profile shot of Peter Fenton. 'Do you recognize anyone else?'

Deacon shook his head. He took a last look at James Streeter, then pushed the photographs aside. 'It's a wild-goose chase,' he said dispiritedly. 'I'm beginning to think Billy's a side issue, anyway.'

'In what way?'

'It depends what Amanda Powell's agenda was when she told me about him. She must have known I'd find out about James, so whose story am I supposed to be investigating? Billy's or James's?' He drew thoughtfully on his cigarette. 'And where does Nigel de Vriess fit in? Why would he give Amanda's address to a complete stranger?'

'Perhaps he doesn't like her,' said Barry, tacitly disclosing his own prejudices.

'He did once. He left his wife for her. In any case, however much you dislike someone, you don't give their address to any old nutter who turns up.' He eyed Barry curiously. 'Do you?'

'No.' Barry looked uncomfortably at the photograph of Peter Fenton. 'I suppose it's possible they knew each other from before.'

Deacon followed his gaze. 'Nigel and Billy?'

'Yes.'

He looked skeptical. 'Wouldn't he have told Amanda who he was? Why talk to me if Nigel could have given her his name?'

'Maybe they're no longer in contact.'

Deacon shook his head. 'I wouldn't bet on that. She's not the type a man could forget very easily. And de Vriess likes women.'

'Do you like her, Mike?'

'You're the second person to ask me that'-he held the other's gaze for a moment-'and I don't know the answer. She's out of the ordinary, but I don't know whether that makes her likable or ruddy peculiar.' He grinned. 'She's damn fanciable. I'll say that for her.'

Barry forced himself to smile.

*14*

Terry had turned on the overhead light in Deacon's bedroom and was prodding the slumbering man's shoulder