memories.
‘What about the rest of them?’ said Phil. ‘The Missionary? All those.’
‘The Missionary, we think, was Adam Weaver,’ said Fennell.
‘Going out into the world, bringing back rich people. Or in his case, investors,’ said Clemens.
‘Until recently, obviously,’ said Fennell.
‘The Gardener,’ said Phil. ‘He’s still out there. Still going.’
‘We don’t know anything about him. Apart from his old name. And that won’t help us now.’
‘True,’ agreed Fennell. ‘Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not central to this investigation.’
‘But he’s still torturing and killing children,’ said Phil. ‘Doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘Yes, it does,’ said Fennell. ‘But not as part of this investigation. We’re after bringing down Glass and his people-trafficking scheme. That’s the main objective.’
‘Anything else,’ said Clemens, ‘is secondary.’
Phil said nothing. But he knew he had to do something.
‘What about the Teacher?’ said Don. ‘Used to be Gail Banks. Who is it now?’
‘Well,’ said Fennell, ‘Gail Banks had a daughter… ’
101
Lynn Windsor didn’t look happy to be there. In fact she looked furious.
Mickey watched her from behind the two-way glass of the observation room. Marina stood next to him.
‘I can see what you saw in her,’ she said.
‘Saw being the operative word. I think our relationship’s dead in the water.’
They both studied her once more. She was sitting behind the desk in the interview room, hands clasped before her on the table, back rigid. Anger and indignation keeping her upright.
Mickey had gone down to the offices of Fenton Associates, phoned her first, asked to meet her outside. He was hoping she would think it was something to do with the previous night, something he didn’t want her work colleagues to hear. She did. Came to the front of the building.
‘Hi,’ she had said, eyes as bright as her smile.
He imagined her preparing that smile while she walked down, checking in the mirrors to see that it had the correct wattage.
He had brought her straight down. ‘I need you to come down to the station.’
The smile had wavered. ‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘Can’t say. I just need you to come with me straight away.’ He had pointed to his car.
The smile disappeared completely. He watched her face closely, saw calculation. Knew what would come next.
‘I think there’s a mistake,’ she said.
‘No mistake, I’m afraid. We need to talk to you at the station. Straight away.’
He wouldn’t let her go back inside the building, wouldn’t let her get her jacket, bag or phone. ‘Someone’ll call work, tell them where you are.’
The drive to Southway had been silent. He hadn’t even looked at her. Couldn’t bear to. He knew she would be hating him. He could tell by the way her chest rose and fell in his peripheral vision.
He had put the radio on to fill the silence. Radio One.
‘Love a bit of Lady Gaga,’ he had said, after attempting to sing along. ‘But I still don’t know what she really looks like. You see her with that many disguises on, when you actually see what she looks like, you just can’t recognise her, can you?’
Lynn hadn’t answered.
And now he was observing her. Beneath the anger he sensed fear. She looked isolated, cut off. Good. That was how he wanted her. Suffering. And it had nothing to do with the way she had played him the previous night, he told himself. Oh no. Purely professional.
‘Marina,’ said Mickey.
She waited.
‘Don’t tell Anni about this.’ He kept his eyes on the glass.
‘About you and Lynn Windsor?’
Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah. I don’t want her to… think less of me. She’s a good friend.’
‘Right. I won’t.’
‘Thanks.’ He sighed. ‘I phoned the hospital. She’s doing OK. Sleeping. I’ll try to get to see her later.’
‘She’d like that.’
‘So would I.’
They stared at Lynn Windsor some more.
‘Right,’ Mickey said, ‘how are we going to play this?’
‘Same as usual. I’ll be in here watching her. You get the questions going. I’ll chip in as and when.’
Mickey nodded. Placed his earpiece in. ‘Wish Phil was here. He’s better at this than me.’
Marina gave a smile. Mickey sensed a sad, faraway quality to it. ‘You’ll be fine. You always are.’
He nodded. ‘Right. In I go.’
He left the observation room. The door closed silently behind him.
Marina watched through the glass. Checked her mic. Everything was fine. She took a seat at the desk. As she did so, her phone rang.
She looked down at her bag, mentally chastising herself. She’d thought she had turned it off. Sighing, she picked it up, ready to kill it. Saw the readout. Phil. She looked at the window, saw Mickey enter the room. Looked at the phone.
Answered it.
‘It’s me,’ said Phil.
‘Hi,’ said Marina, distracted by watching Mickey sit down. Lynn Windsor stare at him with undisguised hatred. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Listen, I’ve got some things to tell you.’
Marina felt torn once more. She wanted to talk to him – needed to – but he had picked a terrible time. She had to tell him that. He would understand. He was a professional.
‘Can we do this later? I’m sorry, but Mickey’s just got someone in the interview room and I’m working the obs.’
‘Who?’ Phil said. ‘Who’s he got?’
‘Lynn Windsor. The solicitor.’
She heard him cover the mouthpiece, say something she couldn’t catch. There was someone else in the room with him. He came back to her. ‘That’s good. Keep her there. I’ve got some stuff to tell you. And I’ve got to tell you now.’
‘Does it have to be now?’
‘Yes. It concerns Lynn Windsor. And Brian Glass. How they’re connected, and how dirty he is.’
‘Stay on the line,’ she said, heart suddenly racing. ‘I may need you.’
‘Pleasure to be back in business,’ he said.
102
Mickey sat down opposite Lynn.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘this is nice.’
‘Is this how you repay all the women you’ve slept with?’ said Lynn, with barely suppressed anger. ‘Haul them in for questioning?’
