Don drained his coffee mug.
‘Well, Gary and Laura got to hear about this in their safe house. And they went ballistic. Were terrified. They said they had to be moved because they would be next. There was a penalty for giving up the Garden, and it was death. They were in fear of their lives.’ He paused. ‘And with good reason.’
‘What happened?’ asked Phil.
Don was reluctant to let the words leave his mouth. But he knew he had to. ‘They were killed. Murdered. In the safe house. Along with the uniforms who were watching over them.’
The silence in the house was pounding, turned up to ear-bleed level.
‘And the… ’ Phil’s voice was also unsteady, ‘the children?’
‘They were spared. Left there.’
‘Why?’
Don shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories. ‘I don’t know. To suffer? Because it was more cruel? I don’t know.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘They were put into care.’ Another sigh. Don really wanted a drink now. ‘But that wasn’t much better than the Garden had been. And they didn’t even have their parents with them.’ Don’s voice shook. He struggled to get it under control. ‘The girl… the little girl died. She wasn’t well. Wasn’t strong. She… she couldn’t last.’
Phil hesitated before speaking. Wanting to hear the answer, but dreading it also. ‘And… and… the boy?’
Don’s eyes locked with his.
‘I’m looking at him,’ he said.
81
Mickey Philips lay on his side, mouth open, gently snoring. Lynn Windsor propped herself up on one elbow, watched him sleep.
It had been a good night. She had to admit that. Her expectations hadn’t been high before he had called, but Mickey had surprised her. He was strong, manly; yes, she had expected that given the way he was and the job he did. But what she hadn’t expected was his tenderness. And his attentiveness towards her. His confidence as a lover. She had never come just by being touched, had always found it difficult. But the way Mickey touched her… And as for his oral skills… she had never felt anything like it. Probably the best orgasm she had ever experienced.
So she watched him sleep. Not with love or tenderness, but with regret. Because this was the first and last time she would have him here.
She moved the duvet back, slid slowly out of bed. Naked, she walked round to where Mickey had left his clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor in a hurry to be with her. She worked her way through his pockets. Looking for something specific. Found it in his trousers.
His iPhone.
She had told him he had better switch it off; that they didn’t want to be disturbed. There had been a slight conflict in his features, but she had done something with her hips and arranged her underwear in such a way as to win the argument hands down. He had done what she had asked, Lynn watching, memorising his numerical pass code as he did so. Now she turned it on. Keyed in the number when asked. Waited. The icons came up. She went straight into his missed messages, his voicemail. Checked it. Several calls asking him to come back to work. There was an emergency. Lynn had smiled. She knew just what that would be. She deleted them all. Then she found his texts, started scrolling through.
There were plenty. She deleted all the ones from work, requesting he come back. Then she checked the others. Most were mundane, arranging drinks in the pub, five-a-side, that kind of thing. But one stuck out. Exactly the kind of thing she had been looking for. She read it:
Anger stabbed at her, mingling with panic. Her face contorted with anger, eyes fiery slits.
How did he know? How? And who was Stuart? She felt herself breathing heavily, her hands shaking as she held the phone. She looked over at Mickey lying asleep in her bed. It would be so easy, she thought. Just to walk over there, cut his throat while he slept. No more Stuart, no more information he wasn’t supposed to have.
Mickey stirred in his sleep, turned over.
She looked again at the message, concentrated. Decided what she could do about it. Really do about it. Got it.
She worked quickly through his contacts. Stuart was listed as: Stuart CI. Confidential Informant. Not much of a code name. She deleted his number, put her own in, checking first that he didn’t have it. Then she got her own phone out and wrote him a text:
Pressed send. Heard his phone ping.
At the sound of the text coming through, Mickey stirred. Looking around, Lynn quickly replaced his phone in his trousers, remembering to turn it off again first. He turned over, opened his eyes.
‘What you doin’?’ Voice full of sleep.
‘Just going to the bathroom. Back in a mo.’
‘Don’t be too long.’
She quickly went into the bathroom, waited a while until she thought he would be asleep again. She still had to re-input his informant’s number in his phone, take hers out. She couldn’t do that if he was awake.
When she came back out into the bedroom, he was sitting up in bed, waiting for her.
‘Missed you,’ he said, pulling back the duvet.
She gave him a smile, slid in alongside him. Looked down at his erection. Summoned up a smile.
‘Don’t you ever stop?’ She giggled as she said it.
‘With you here? Nope.’
She felt his arms round her, his mouth on her body. He would never check, she thought. His phone. Never connect it with her. Or at least she hoped not.
She lay back, felt him work his magic on her body once more.
Abandoned all earlier thoughts she had had about him. Compartmentalised her rage at him, let it go.
82
The boy was scared. Terrified. But back in the cage where he belonged.
The Gardener stood at the other side of the bars, studied him. Head to one side, beneath the hood he was smiling.
‘Back where you belong… Thought you’d got away, did you? Eh? No… you’re too important. Yes… Too important. The future of the Garden depends on you… Yes… ’
The boy pulled away, sat at the back, staring. Trying not to cry, not even to whimper.
The Gardener turned, surveyed the space. This was good. This was
It had been a struggle, getting everything in, especially since he couldn’t go the other way, his usual way. The police still had that blocked off. But he already had enough of the things he needed to hand. Another tool set.
