want to fall asleep.
64
Jenny woke up to the sound of buzzing and she groped for her alarm clock. As she fumbled for the off switch she realised that it wasn’t her clock; it was the door intercom, buzzing in the kitchen. She blinked as she stared at the clock. It was just after nine. She pulled on her robe and hurried downstairs. As she reached the bottom she remembered that she hadn’t checked the intercom. She turned to go back upstairs but then the buzzer rang again, longer this time. It was probably Nightingale. ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, hurrying across the hall to the front door. She opened it but froze when she saw who was standing on her doorstep. It was Marcus Fairchild. He was wearing a double-breasted blazer, beige slacks and shiny brown shoes. He smiled and his eyes sparkled.
‘Good evening, darling,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise you went to bed so early.’
Jenny took a step back, clutching her robe around her neck. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.
His smile broadened. ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said, stepping towards her. ‘There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.’ Jenny backed down the hallway. She could feel the strength draining from her legs. ‘Now listen to me, darling, listen to me very carefully.’
65
Nightingale groaned and stretched and slapped his right cheek a couple of times, trying to wake himself up. He was sitting on one of Fairchild’s sofas, his feet on a glass coffee table that was balanced on three large marble spheres. At just after ten o’clock he’d raided the fridge and found some cheese, tomatoes and celery and he’d eaten them with a couple of slices of bread and butter, and a can of Carlsberg. By his feet was a crystal ashtray with half a dozen cigarette butts in it. Once he’d found all the books in the trunks in Fairchild’s garage he’d decided that there was no point in keeping a low profile. One way or another it would all be over by morning, so he’d sat and he’d smoked and he’d waited.
Every book from the basement of Gosling Manor had been packed into the trunks and transported to Epping. It would have needed a huge truck and quite a bit of manpower. Nightingale hadn’t even considered calling the police. He wasn’t sitting there in the dark because he wanted to talk to Fairchild about stolen books. He wanted to talk to Fairchild, that much was true. But Nightingale wanted to know exactly what the man had done to Jenny, and why. And he was sure that Fairchild would tell him, not because of the gun that Nightingale would be pointing at his chest but because the lawyer was arrogant, one of life’s boasters. He’d want to tell Nightingale everything, to revel in his superiority. Nightingale would listen to Fairchild, he’d hear everything that the man had to say, and then he’d pull the trigger.
He reached for his pack of Marlboro. There were only three cigarettes left. He cursed under his breath. Why hadn’t Fairchild come home? When ten o’clock had come and gone Nightingale had assumed that Fairchild had gone for dinner in London, but now it was starting to look as if he wasn’t coming home at all.
Standing up, he paced around the room as he smoked, then he stood at the window and looked out over the garden towards the road. He looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. He had no choice now: he had to wait until Fairchild came home because when he did he’d smell the smoke and he’d notice the missing food and he’d realise that someone had been in the house.
Nightingale flinched as his mobile burst into life. He went over to the coffee table, picked up the phone and looked at the screen. It was Jenny. He pressed the green button to take the call. ‘Hi, kid, are you okay? I thought you were going to sleep.’
‘Where are you, Jack?’
‘I’m still in Epping. Fairchild hasn’t come back yet.’
‘Jack, I want you to come back. Now.’
‘I want to wait until Fairchild comes home.’
‘And then what?’
‘Best you don’t know, kid. But I’ll take care of it. He’ll never hurt you again; I’ll make sure of that.’
Jenny sniffed. ‘Please come back, Jack.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m scared. I need you.’
‘Jenny, just a few more hours.’
‘Please, Jack.’ She began to cry.
‘Jenny, honey, let me do this and then I’ll be straight back.’
Jenny said nothing but he could hear her sobs.
‘What’s wrong, Jenny?’
‘I don’t want to be on my own. I’m scared.’
‘Did something happen?’
‘I just need you here. Now.’
The line went dead.
66
Nightingale parked outside Jenny’s house. He climbed out of the MGB and pressed the buzzer on the intercom. There was a chill in the air and his breath feathered around his mouth as he stamped his feet to warm them up. He pressed the buzzer a second time. He stood back and looked up at the upper windows of the mews house. There was a light on in the front bedroom. He reached out to knock on the door but realised that it was ajar. He pushed it open. The light was on in the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Nightingale looked back at the MGB. He’d left the gun in the glove compartment because he knew that if Jenny saw it she wouldn’t be happy.
‘Jack, is that you?’
Nightingale peered down the hallway. ‘Jenny? The door’s open.’ There was no answer. ‘Jenny, are you okay?’
‘I’m in the kitchen.’
Nightingale stepped inside the hall and closed the door. ‘How are you feeling?’ he called. There was still no answer. ‘Jenny?’
He heard what sounded like a sob and he hurried down the hallway. She was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her pink bathrobe. He walked towards her.
‘Jenny?’ he said.
She was trembling and then she looked to her left and Marcus Fairchild stepped from behind the kitchen door. He was holding a carving knife.
Nightingale froze.
‘Don’t be shy, Jack,’ said Fairchild. ‘Come and join us.’
Nightingale took out his mobile phone.
‘Don’t even think about making a call,’ said Fairchild, walking behind Jenny and thrusting the knife against her neck. He grabbed her hair with his left hand and pulled her head back, exposing her neck.
‘There’s no need for that, Marcus,’ said Nightingale. He put the phone away and raised his hands. ‘We can sort this out. There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.’
Fairchild laughed harshly. ‘You think you can negotiate with me, Jack? Big mistake.’ He pressed the knife harder against Jenny’s throat. Jenny stared at Nightingale, her eyes wide with fear but she didn’t put up any resistance.
‘What is it you want, Marcus? The books? You can have the books. All of them. Just leave Jenny alone.’
