photographed, and the floor closed to all members of staff, who periodically peered in through the glass with impassive faces. Occasionally one of them would discreetly record some footage onto a mobile phone.
“If the courtyard hadn’t been closed outside, we might have had witnesses walking past. How the hell did the killer get in?”
“No forced entry. It must have been someone Cavendish knew.”
Longbright bagged the dead man’s appointment book. “I’ll do the remaining co-workers,” she suggested. “His suppliers and clients will take longer to sift through.”
“What happened, Dan?” asked May. “You must have some idea.”
“This is only in the early stages, John. But I can tell you our man is starting to panic. The victim was killed here. The cuts are the same as before, but nastier, more ragged and careless. Once the bone was severed he tore through the remaining section of skin. There are bits of it all over the place. Looks like he’s taken the head away. Hang on, here’s something…” He raised a white rubber glove above the desk to show May. Between Banbury’s thumb and forefinger was a tangle of brownish black hair. “It’s from a dead animal. The collar of a jacket?”
“No,” said May grimly. “Too coarse. Looks to me like it’s from a deer or a stag. Mr Toth has every reason to panic. I think we’ve got him this time. Okay, Janice, let’s bring him in.”
? Bryant & May on the Loose ?
34
Exorcism
Liberty DuCaine had been the fastest runner in his school, but he had bulked up since then, and knew that the extra weight would slow him down. He had misjudged the height of the railing and was stuck halfway across it. The iron spearheads were digging into his upper thigh, and his quarry was getting away.
Xander Toth had decided to make a run for it.
DuCaine had been forced to kick in the front door but Toth had barricaded himself into the living room. Now there were crashes and slams coming from within the second-floor flat, so with Mangeshkar on guard at the front, DuCaine had run around the entire block to the courtyard at the rear. The morning light was unusually low, and although it had stopped raining the air was furred with damp. There were no lights on in the building. It sounded as if Toth had gained access to the apartment next door. Suddenly he appeared half out of the bathroom window. Toth was muscular and agile. A moment later he had jumped. His sneakers skittered on the wet roof tiles, then he was pelting along the slope toward the end of the roof.
DuCaine ran up the concrete steps to the half-landing but knew he would not be able to reach his quarry from here. Toth was in navy tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt; it was almost as if he had been expecting to have to run. DuCaine tried to see which way he would move, but moments later Toth had passed the crest of the roof and leapt from sight.
Liberty pelted back down the stairs, wondering why Meera had not come down, then caught sight of Toth running across the dewy grass bank, heading toward the road. DuCaine raised the pace, pumping up the same slope, closing the distance, but Toth darted behind a row of parked vans. Toth was heading toward St Pancras Old Church. If he got inside the gates, DuCaine knew he would be able to reach the canalside and lose himself in the empty buildings awaiting demolition.
The silver coils of newly risen mist wreathed the churchyard like sheets of fragile silk. The effect was absurdly theatrical, something from a Hammer horror film, but Toth vanished into them as if passing through layers of years into the past. The grounds were deserted except for some crazy-looking old hippie in a pin-striped suit who was shouting out at Toth, warning him away. Toth ignored the commands and powered forward across the grassy graves, aiming for the far side of the churchyard. He had not got far when something tripped him and he fell. A green nylon tarpaulin closed about his legs and he vanished from view, into an open grave site that had been covered to protect it from the rain. The grave digger leaned on his shovel and watched from a safe distance, neither alarmed nor concerned.
“Bloody vandals!” Austin Potterton shouted at DuCaine. “This is a site of archaeological importance and he’s damaging it. Honestly, young people have no bloody respect for the past.”
¦
John May looked at the watch Arthur Bryant had bought him. The second hand had never worked properly. Bryant’s ability to infect every electronic device he touched had apparently spread to mechanical objects as well.
May wondered where his partner had disappeared to this time. It felt like the pair of them hardly ever worked in tandem anymore. Bryant was off sorting through arcane publications in an attempt to prove that London’s criminals were influenced by myths from past centuries, while he was trying to cope with the exigencies of a modern metropolis.
But as he walked to the interview room a few minutes later, he thought,
“You can’t hold me,” said Toth, sprawled out across a straight-back chair. “You’ve got nothing.”
“Why did you run?” DuCaine asked.
“I don’t want to talk to you. I’ll talk to him, no-one else.” He pointed at John May.
“I’ll be happy to offer you advice after you’ve answered a few of Mr DuCaine’s questions,” said May.
“Then I have nothing to say. I’ve done no wrong. I’m not obliged to explain anything to anyone.”
“I think he might want to talk about this,” said Meera, carrying in a black plastic garbage bag. Dropping it on the floor, she pulled out the stag-man’s furry jacket and a handful of knife blades. Behind her, a nervous pregnant girl stepped forward into the room.
“Lizzi, what are you doing here?”
“I had to tell them, Xander. I know where you go at night. I saw you putting on that stupid outfit. I want to find out exactly how many lies you’ve told me.”
Toth pulled himself upright, and sat in stupefied silence. He was trying to come up with a fresh game plan, but realised there was no escape from the truth. “Where do you want me to start?” he asked.
“Why don’t you let me do it for you?” said Bryant, sauntering into the already overcrowded interview room. “Can I have a chair? I’m knackered and it’s only one o’clock. Is anyone on tea duty? Meera, would you ask April to fill up that huge teapot I saw in the hall? Make sure Crippen’s not been near it first. Thank you so much.”
DuCaine dragged in a battered armchair and everyone waited while Bryant squirmed into it. “The land, the land,” mused Bryant. “You studied land rights when you worked at ADAPT, didn’t you?”
“So what?”
“And the more you found out about the practice of co-opting properties, the less you liked what they were asking you to do. Is offering someone money to leave their home a bribe? I’m sure ADAPT’s lawyers would argue that no illegal acts were ever committed. But you saw the rules being bent, the meetings with councillors and property developers, and finally decided to complain. I found a pretty hefty file on you in Camden Council’s department of planning.”
“I tried the official channels but nobody would listen to me,” said Toth. “So I switched to unofficial ones.”
“But all you could find were a few disgruntled householders who eventually caved in and sold out. After all, everyone wanted to see King’s Cross restored to being a decent neighbourhood. That’s why the ADAPT Group was offered so many sweeteners to start undoing the damage that the railway had done, clearing uninhabitable slums and unrentable factories. They’re doing London a huge favour and making millions in the process. Marianne Waters will probably get an O.B.E.”
“She’s a corrupting, thieving bitch.”
“I assume it was while you were digging into the land rights that you came across the area’s extraordinary history. Everything you read made you angrier. Almost everyone who ever came to this site stole from it. The royals
