‘We’re not exactly strangers,’ Mathias told him. Then he looked at Kelly. ‘But I don’t know you. And I feel that I should.”

The psychic smiled and Kelly saw a glint in his eye.

She introduced herself then stepped back, one eye on Vernon, as Sir George completed the introductions.

Blake shook hands with Gerald Braddock, wincing slightly as he felt the pudgy clamminess of the politician’s hand.

Then came Vernon.

‘This is Dr Stephen Vernon, an old friend of mine, he …’

‘We’ve met,’ Blake told Sir George. ‘How are you, Dr Vernon?’

‘I’m very well,’ said the older man. He looked at Kelly. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Kelly.’

She didn’t answer.

‘Well, it seems as if everyone knows everyone else,’ said Sir George, aware of the iciness in the air. His stilted laugh died away rapidly.

‘How long are you here for, Jonathan?’ Blake asked the psychic.

‘Three or four days. Long enough to do the show with Mr Carr, and a couple of newspaper interviews, radio pieces. You know the kind of thing,’ Mathias told him.

‘I saw in the paper that you were coming to England,’ Blake said. ‘When are you doing the TV show?’

it’s being broadcast the day after tomorrow,’ Roger Carr said, stepping forward. ‘You should watch it, Mr Blake, I mean you deal in the same kind of tricks don’t you? Only you write about them instead.’ The interviewer smiled.

Blake returned the smile.

‘You know, Mr Carr, there’s something I’ve never been able to figure out about you,’ the writer said. ‘You’re either stupid, in which case I’m sorry for you, or you’re pig-ignorant. But I haven’t been able to figure out which it is yet.’

Carr shot him an angry glance and opened his mouth to speak but, before he could, all eyes turned in the direction of the cloakroom.

There was an unholy din coming from there, a cacophony of shouts through which the high-pitched voice of a woman could be heard.

Seconds later, a figure dressed in a grey coat, spattered with rain, burst into the peaceful confines of the Waterloo Club. Her hair was wind-blown, her make-up streaked by the

rain. She stood panting in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Mathias.

‘My God,’ muttered Sir George. Then, to a green-coated doorman who had tried to stop the woman entering:

‘Could you please eject this lady.’

‘No,’ Mathias said, raising a hand. ‘Leave her.’

‘David, who is she?’ asked Kelly, noticing the look of recognition on Blake’s face as he gazed at the woman.

Toni Landers,’ he said. ‘She’s an actress.’ But the woman whom he had met in New York had been a radiant, sensuous creature. The woman who now stood in the doorway was pale and unkempt, her features haggard. She looked as though she’d aged ten years.

‘Do you know this woman?’ asked Sir George, looking first at Toni, then at Mathias who had not taken his eyes from her.

“Yes, I know her,’ the psychic said.

‘Could someone explain what the hell is going on?’ Sir George demanded.

‘Jonathan, I have to speak to you,’ Toni said, her voice cracking. She leant against the bar for support.

Jim O’Neil was on his feet, ready to intervene. Toni looked ready to keel

over. She sat down on a bar stool, her gaze still on the psychic.

‘How did you find me?’ he asked, moving towards her.

i knew you were coming to England. I’ve been waiting for you. I found out which hotel you were staying in. They told me where you’d be tonight,’ she admitted.

‘She’s bloody mad,’ snapped Roger Carr, dismissively. ‘Get her out of here.’

‘Shut up,’ Mathias rasped. ‘Leave her.’

The doorman took a step away from Toni.

is this one of your theatrical tricks, Mathias?’ Carr demanded.

Blake turned on him.

‘Just for once, keep your bloody mouth shut,’ he snapped. He motioned to the barman. ‘Give her a brandy.’

The man hesitated, looking at Sir George.

‘Come on, man, for Christ’s sake,’ Blake insisted.

‘Give her the fucking drink. You heard him,’ snarled Jim O’Neil, watching as the barman poured a large measure and

handed it to Toni. She downed most of it, coughing as the fiery liquid burned its way to her stomach.

Toni, what do you want?’ Mathias asked her, quietly.

“I need your help, Jonathan,’ she told him, tears glistening in her eyes.

‘You’re the only one who can help me now.’

‘Why didn’t you come to me before? What were you afraid of?’

She swallowed what was left in the glass.

‘That you’d turn me away.’

He shook his head.

‘Jonathan, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Rick. Every time I see a child I think about him.’ The tears were coursing down her cheeks now. ‘Please help me.’ Her self-control finally dissolved in a paroxysm of sobs.

Mathias supported her and she clung to him’, her body trembling violently.

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.

‘Reach him,’ she said, flatly. ‘Now.’

Mathias didn’t speak.

‘Please, do I have to beg you?’ Some of the despair in her voice had turned to anger. ‘Contact my son.’

‘This is a London club, not a fairground tent,’ protested Sir George Ward as the massive oak table was dragged into the centre of the room by Blake, O’Neil and a third man.

‘What I intend to do is no fairground trick,’ Mathias told him, watching as a number of chairs were placed around the table.

The other guests looked on in stunned, anticipatory silence, Kelly amongst them. Every so often she cast a glance in Dr Vernon’s direction, noticing that he was smiling thinly as he observed the proceedings.

Gerald Braddock plucked at the folds of fat beneath his jaw and shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

Toni Landers sat at the bar, the glass of brandy cradled in her shaking hand.

‘What are you trying to prove by doing this, Mathias?’ Roger Carr wanted to know.

‘I don’t have to prove anything, Mr Carr,’ the psychic said, turning away from him. He held out a hand for Toni Landers to join him. She downed what was left in her glass and wandered across the room. ‘Sit there,’ the psychic told her, motioning to the chair on his right.

Blake watched with interest, aware that Kelly was gripping his arm tightly. He took her hand and held it, reassuringly.

‘I cannot do this alone,’ Mathias said, addressing the other guests. ‘I must ask for the help of some of you. Not for my own sake but for this lady.’ He motioned towards Toni. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing can hurt you.’

Jim O’Neil was the first to step forward.

‘What the hell,’ he said, sitting beside Toni then turning in his seat to look at the others.

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