‘Oh, it’s Jessie, is it?’
‘Yeah, Jessie James.’ Mickey smiled. ‘And she says she’s heard all the jokes before.’
‘What, even the one about the Suffolk force being a bunch of cowboys?’
‘Apparently. But I don’t know if she’s been giving me the glad eye or not.’
‘OK. Just checking.’
‘Why, you jealous?’
She shrugged. ‘You know me. Not the jealous type.’
Mickey and Anni had been involved in a tentative on-and-off relationship for the last few months. They had been out a few times, dinner, cinema, drinks, but neither had wanted to be the one to push it further. They were good friends, excellent work colleagues. And they were worried they could lose all that.
Anni’s phone rang. Relieved at the break, she answered it. Milhouse, the unit’s resident computer expert. Milhouse wasn’t his real name, but with his thick glasses and studious demeanour, he bore such a strong resemblance to the character in
‘Got a lead for you,’ he said.
Anni took out her notepad. ‘When and where?’
‘Shell garage in Marks Tey. Marina’s debit card’s been used.’
‘We’re on our way.’
‘I’ll phone ahead,’ said Milhouse. ‘Get them to line up any CCTV footage they’ve got.’
‘Brilliant. Thanks, Milhouse.’ She rang off.
‘What’s occurring?’ said Mickey.
Anni told him.
‘Let’s go, then. Not far from here.’
The radio continued to spew out top-forty hits in between the DJ’s banal inanities.
They drove on in silence.
38
The Golem enjoyed being in the car. The doors were locked and there was a metal and glass barrier between him and the rest of the world. And he was going forward. Heading towards something.
Even if that something involved someone else’s death.
In the car, he could tune out everything else. Centre himself. Meditate while moving.
He drove a Prius. And took a small delight in the fact that it confounded expectations. It was not the car of an assassin, but that was what he liked about it. It was both anonymous and environmentally friendly. That was good, because when he died, he wanted to leave as little trace of himself behind as possible. Like a footprint in damp sand, washed away by the incoming tide. The way it should be.
That was what he tried to achieve with his victims. There one second, gone the next. Simple and clean, like switching off a light.
He knew that one day it would happen to him. And he was ready for it. Every day he prepared for death, either to give it or take it. And every day that he gave it and didn’t take it he gave thanks.
But one day it would be him.
One day.
He was also pleased to get away from the Sloanes. They had been regular employers over the years. They paid what he asked and their assignments were not too taxing. They would have been good employers if not for the sister. She was getting to him. And he didn’t allow that. Something would have to be done about her. One way or the other.
Jaywick was signposted left. He turned left.
He drove. He was centred, prepared.
He was ready.
39
Marina followed the sat nav, her foot hard down as far as she dared. On the way to Jaywick. On the way to meet her daughter.
She had insisted that that was part of the deal. The voice hadn’t been too pleased. ‘After you’ve seen … ’ it nearly said a name, ‘your patient.’
‘Look.’ Marina kept her own voice as calm, as reasonable as she could. ‘I’ve already told you I’ll see
‘No,’ said the voice. ‘We’re not negotiating. You’re going to do what you’ve agreed to do and then you’ll get her back.’
Marina wanted to scream, to rage. If they had been there in front of her, she would have attacked. But she swallowed that down, kept her voice calm, controlled. She knew she would only get somewhere if she behaved like a professional. ‘No,’ she said, in as measured and slow a tone as she could manage, ‘this
‘What’ll happen to your daughter then?’
Again Marina had to control herself until she was sure she could speak without screaming. ‘You’ll let her go. Because there would no reason for you to keep her. You’ve explained your plan to me. And without my help, there will be no plan.’
There was silence on the line. Marina waited. She was suddenly aware that she was shaking. She wished she felt as strong as she had made herself sound. She wondered if she had gone too far. If they didn’t go along with her proposal, she might never see Josephina again. She knew now what was at stake. She guessed that if they were desperate enough to kidnap her daughter to make this work, they wouldn’t stop there.
‘All right,’ the voice said. Anger and defeat in its tone. ‘You can see her. But then you do what we want. And you don’t get her back until you’ve done it. Right?’
She felt a wave of relief wash over her. ‘Thank you. Just make sure she’s safe.’
‘She’s safe. Now get going.’
The phone went dead. The postcode was texted for the sat nav. She entered it and drove.
As she did so, she thought about the voice. In the time she had been talking to it, it had evolved. It was no longer intransigent, unyielding; it could be reasoned with. She knew that happened in negotiations; sometimes whole relationships developed. The way this person spoke led her to believe they were an amateur. A professional wouldn’t have engaged with her on any level. If she had made demands, been obstinate or refused to play, a professional would have harmed her daughter, even executed her.
This person — or persons — was reachable, and Marina felt a glimmer of hope at that thought. Perhaps the initial intransigence was down to fear, she thought. Perhaps they didn’t know what they were doing and had hidden behind a character.
She was glad now that she had left a clue. Just a small one, at the service station. She just hoped that someone had seen it, would be clever enough to work out what she had done, and follow her.
She kept driving. Hoping her daughter was all right. Wishing her husband was there with her.
Trying desperately to be brave, for their sake.
