Making the phone call here was Charlie’s idea. They’d parked in a side road which Famie had thought was close enough. But Charlie had insisted, and as Charlie was less drunk than she was, Charlie had won. ‘If we’re calling the police, we need to be where we say we are,’ she had said, and Famie wasn’t going to argue.
‘Here?’ said Charlie, stepping a few metres from the escalator towards a shuttered cupcake stand.
Famie nodded, and dialled the number from the card. It rang four times. A fumbled, rattling pick-up.
‘Hunter,’ croaked a voice at the other end. Asleep certainly, but awake now.
‘It’s Famie Madden. I’m sorry to wake you.’
A rustle and a changed acoustic. A different room.
‘OK, go ahead, Ms Madden. I’m listening.’
Famie glanced at Charlie, who nodded. ‘Someone tried to kill my daughter tonight,’ she said.
‘What happened, Ms Madden? Is your daughter OK?’
‘Terrified but, yes, OK. She’s here now. Got the last train. She was in the Vue cinema in Exeter. Before the film she noticed a girl who looked like her, same height and hair. That kind of thing. When she left the cinema, it was this girl who had been stabbed. She died later. Your colleagues there are asking for witnesses. Charlie wasn’t a witness. But we think she was the target.’
There was a silence from Hunter. Famie assumed she was note-taking.
‘And there’s another thing,’ she said.
‘Where are you, Ms Madden?’
‘Wait,’ said Famie. ‘You might not know this yet but Tommi Dara was killed a few hours ago. Run down by a bus near Cockfosters tube station. He was working a lead in the May twenty-two story, then he was dead.’
‘I didn’t know that, Ms Madden,’ said Hunter. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll get all the information I can and call you later. Maybe you could stop by the station again?’
Raised voices and a scream from somewhere made Charlie jump and grab Famie’s arm.
‘No, that won’t be happening,’ said Famie. ‘We’re off, DC Hunter. We’re at Euston and we’re disappearing. Someone is targeting IPS people and now they’re targeting Charlie. So. We’re gonna hide up somewhere until we know what’s happening.’
The comeback was swiftly, forcefully delivered. ‘I’m not sure that’s wise,’ said Hunter. ‘We need to know where you are. That’s the best way to keep you safe.’
‘Yeah, well,’ said Famie, ‘too fucking late for that, I’m afraid. If you know where we are, everyone else knows where we are too.’
‘Hold on,’ said Hunter, ‘got something for you.’
Charlie frowned at her mother, made a winding-up sign. She was getting nervous again. Famie ran a three-sixty-degree check. A concourse of wasters and no-hopers maybe, she thought, but it’s still probably safer than the flat. She held up one finger to Charlie. ‘One minute,’ she mouthed. Charlie nodded.
Hunter was back. ‘I got a report back from the officers who went to Boxer Street,’ she said.
Famie stood taller, adrenalin seeping into her tired body. ‘And?’ she said.
A beat.
‘Ms Madden, I’ll tell you this confidentially to show you how seriously we take your story and your security.’
‘Understood,’ said Famie, impatient. ‘What does it say?’
‘It says they conducted an operation. That there’s a woman living at number twenty-six, on her own apparently. Said she knew Hari Roy, that he’d done one of her martial arts classes once.’ Hunter was clearly subbing the story as she went – Famie recognized the audible sifting of words and phrases. ‘It says his car is parked in the street but this woman said that didn’t surprise her as there are so many student houses in the area.’
She had stopped.
‘Is that it?’ Famie felt herself deflating.
‘They’re still watching the house,’ said Hunter.
‘Did they go inside?’
‘That’s all I have, Ms Madden.’
‘Hardly conclusive,’ said Famie.
‘Hardly surprising,’ said Hunter.
‘But that’s it?’
‘Like I said …’
‘You got any better leads? Christ Almighty …’
Hunter realized that Famie was about to hang up. ‘You might not believe me, Ms Madden, but I have been taking you seriously. And after what has happened tonight I’m sure others will too.’
Charlie was tugging Famie now. ‘Too long,’ she mouthed. ‘Come on.’ They stepped on to the escalator. Hunter was still asking where they were going when she put the phone down. Famie and Charlie walked the short distance back to the car.
‘You’re still definitely over the limit,’ said Famie.
‘It’s a risk we’ll have to take,’ Charlie said, popping two extra strong mints. ‘I’ll be careful. Where are we going?’
She started the car.
‘Coventry,’ said Famie.
Charlie switched the engine off again.
‘When I said anywhere was safer than your flat,’ she protested, ‘I obviously wasn’t including Coventry.’ She stared at her mother.
Famie stared ahead. Through the windscreen and down the quiet side street. She knew she was right. She let the silence run.
Eventually Charlie sighed, turned the ignition again. ‘OK, you win,’ she said. ‘And God help us.’
49
3.30 a.m.
WHAT FEW POSSESSIONS Hari had taken into Boxer Street were in his rucksack. He was ready to run. He paced the upstairs room. Lights off, curtains drawn. Every few seconds he scanned the road through a carefully arranged gap in the curtains. And every few seconds he saw the same uniformed police in the same car.
As soon as the police moved, so would they. Hari fought back against a rising sense of panic. He had no escape plan, no idea how to keep his sisters safe and no idea how to contact the IPS woman again. He imagined walking from the house and letting himself into the coppers’ car. Imagined telling them about Binici and Collins, the dead Zak hidden somewhere in the house, and about his imperilled family. He then imagined how long it would take the leader to
