He peered through the curtains again.
The house was silent. Occasionally Hari caught a whisper or the lightest of treads from Binici or Collins downstairs. The Geiger counter was back on too, its sporadic clicking sound telling Hari everything he needed to know about the leader’s fevered state of mind. His obsession with radioactivity continued. If, Binici would reason, their enemies had used radiation poisoning once, they would certainly try it again. And he would be ready. Hari found the clicks an unexpected comfort. Each one was a reminder of Hari’s only success – his fooling of Binici and Collins.
Click.
Fooled you.
Click.
Still fooling you.
Click.
I just have to fool you again.
And the clicks were getting louder. Binici and maybe Collins were on their way up. Hari hovered by the curtains. Two policemen, one patrol car, no movement. He stepped aside as Binici appeared at his shoulder. He smelt the leader’s rosewater soap and wondered how he had managed to attend to his personal hygiene.
‘No change,’ muttered Hari. ‘We have to assume they’re not going anywhere soon.’
‘Well we can’t wait,’ whispered Binici. Collins was at his shoulder. ‘Either we leave or they do,’ he said. ‘All the cells are watching. The London Citizens will be on their way soon. They were told eight, they’ll be here at eight. It’s too late to change and we can’t talk to them anyway.’
Click.
‘In which case,’ said Collins, ‘I’ll have to think of something.’
‘That would be appreciated,’ said Binici.
It was Hari’s watch till four a.m., then Binici’s. At five they were all back at the window, the sun about to emerge above the houses opposite. Motionless threads of orange-tinged clouds stretched high above them. Another airless, stifling day in prospect. Hari swept his eyes along the road again, right to left. His wrecked car, the incident tape. The nose-to-tail parking on both sides. The coppers. And at the far end of Boxer Street, a busy T-junction. Traffic swept past their road all day and night. This was where they expected the London cell to appear.
‘Same fash, no change,’ Binici said.
Collins had brought up coffee and fruit.
‘How many citizens, again?’ she asked.
‘I’m told five.’
‘I’ve cleared some space,’ said Hari, ‘but we’re out of beds.’
‘They won’t be here for long,’ said Binici, ‘and there won’t be any time for sleep.’
Two early joggers ran past the house. Hari watched the policeman in the driver’s seat follow their progress. He was white, bearded and awake, his partner mostly obscured by the car’s roof. Six cars drove past, three pulled away from their parking spaces. The police noted everything, photographed everything.
Hari picked up his coffee, left it black and strong. He said as little as possible, figuring that if he waited long enough, Collins would tell them what she was thinking. He knew better than to push it. Binici drifted away. When they could hear him in the kitchen downstairs, she sat on the floor, crossed her legs. She tugged at Hari’s jeans. He glanced down.
‘I’ve thought of something, just making him wait, that’s all,’ she said. She gesticulated downstairs. ‘He’s a genius, you know. His plan will be spectacular, and it’ll work. It’s just that he’s also a total cunt. Maybe it goes with the territory.’
Tearing himself away from the window, Hari sat down next to her. ‘What is the plan, do you know?’ He tried to sound confident but it came out too breezy, as though they were planning a picnic.
Collins shook her head. ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t know about the other targets. Don’t know our target. The shopping centre maybe? A cinema? A school? Christ, I hope it isn’t a school.’
Hari’s skin crawled. ‘Four private schools nearby,’ she said. ‘Wealthy kids. Children of bankers. Jews. Should be quite a haul, if you can cope with it.’
So this is it then. ‘And can you cope with it?’ he said.
She paused. ‘If I have to. You?’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t know yet. I’ll follow you.’
‘OK.’
‘Knives?’ he said.
‘Presumably,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘Maybe a lorry. Depends what London brings with them.’
Hari felt nauseous. He needed some air.
‘Assuming we don’t all get arrested when they get here,’ he said.
Collins shuffled closer.
‘So I was thinking,’ she said. ‘Your car is still up there, at the end of the road. I go out, start poking around in the wrecks. The fash won’t be able to resist. As long as they both come down, I should be able to keep them there for long enough. If London are as punctual as Abi says they will be, both coppers will be with me when the citizens arrive. You and Abi let them in. That’s it. That’s the plan.’
It had some logic to it. It could work. As long as there were only two coppers.
‘And the police know it’s my car,’ he said.
‘They do. They said so.’
‘They’ll have gone to the campus looking for me. Home too. When they don’t find me, they’ll be back here for certain.’
‘Why would they come back?’ she said. ‘They’ve been already.’
Said too much. Hari scrambled up to get a quick glance at the road to cover his awkwardness. No change to report. ‘You told them I’d been to your classes. And that I was terrible at them. Thanks for that by the way. They’ll want to retrace their steps. It’s what they do, isn’t it?’
She shrugged, unconvinced. He moved the conversation on.
‘Who did they think lived here with you?’
‘Tom Jarrod. It’s the name Binici wrote on the rental papers.’
‘Time to tell him your plan?’ Hari said.
She checked her watch. ‘Almost. One other thing,’ she said.
‘Go on.’
She looked awkward. Hari hadn’t seen that before.
‘Tonight is dangerous for me,’ she said. ‘The night before an operation, men get … demanding. I don’t know these new arrivals. And after what happened earlier, I don’t know about Binici either. So. I need to say that I’ll be with you tonight. And then actually stay with you.’ She raised both hands, palms out. ‘We’re not screwing or anything
