And Matt could see it for himself. Everything about the BMW driver was fake, even the way he stood there, stiff and unnatural, like a dummy in a shop window. The words he was saying could have been written out for him, on a script.
“I’m insured,” he continued. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. It was my fault. No doubt about it.”
Richard stared. None of them knew quite what to do. Barely a minute had passed since the collision but already other people were arriving on the scene. A bus, on its way to Brixton, had pulled up and the driver was climbing out of his cabin, coming over to help. Two more cars had stopped further up the road. Matt had seen a taxi pull out of Ardbeg Road and thought it might be coming their way, but it had already turned off and driven away.
They couldn’t risk a fight. They were in the middle of a suburban, South London street. If they challenged the shape-changer, if he decided to drop his human form, all hell would break loose. And already the police had arrived. A squad car turned the corner and pulled over. Two officers got out.
“Good afternoon, officers.” The BMW driver was pretending that he was pleased to see them. “Glad you’re here. We’re in a bit of a pickle.”
His language was as fake as the rest of him and for just a few seconds, Matt was tempted to take him on, to show the entire crowd what was really happening here. He could use his own power. Without so much as moving, he could tear a strip of metal off the shattered car and send it flying into him. There were a dozen witnesses on the scene. How would they react when the blushing, curly-haired BMW driver turned into a half-snake or a half-crocodile and bled green blood? Maybe it was time to show the world the war that was about to engulf it.
It was Richard who stopped him.
“No, Matt.”
He must have seen what Matt was thinking because he muttered the two words under his breath, never taking his eyes off the man who was standing in front of them. Matt understood. For some reason, the shape- changer was playing with them. It was pretending that this was just an ordinary accident. If he took it on, if he began a fight here in the street, innocent people might get hurt. And he was in England with a fake passport and a false name. This was the wrong time to be answering questions. Right now he had everything to lose.
“I’m so very sorry,” the shape-changer said.
“I saw what happened!” the bus driver exclaimed. He nodded at the BMW driver, his face filled with outrage. “He pulled out at fifty miles an hour. He didn’t look. He didn’t signal. It was all his fault.”
“Is anyone hurt?” one of the policeman asked.
“Our driver,” Richard said.
The right-hand side of the Jaguar had taken the full force of the impact and it looked as if the driver had suffered a broken arm. He was only semi-conscious and in pain. One of the policemen helped him out and laid him on the pavement and they waited about fifteen minutes for an ambulance to arrive. Meanwhile the other officer began questioning the BMW driver – “Mr Smith”. He had no ID.
“I was on my way to Chislehurst. I’m a piano teacher. I pulled out without looking. I can’t tell you how dreadful I feel…”
Matt watched as they breathalysed him and it almost made him smile, seeing him blow into the machine. His breath wasn’t human and if he’d drunk a crate of whisky it was unlikely that it would register. Meanwhile, their driver was loaded into an ambulance and driven off to hospital. Thirty minutes or more had gone by and Richard was desperate to be on his way, but the police weren’t having any of it. They would have to take a statement. Will you come with us to the station, sir? There was no way out. Richard, Matt and Jamie were driven away.
It was almost four o’clock by the time the police finished with them. Even if they had wanted to go to Heathrow, it would have been too late. Scarlett would already be in the air, on her way to Hong Kong.
They left the police station and dropped into a local cafe but Matt refused the offer of a drink. He was angry and depressed. The Old Ones were out-manoeuvring him at every turn. They seemed to know exactly what he was going to do and the trap they had set had been childishly simple. He didn’t mention the taxi that he had seen pulling out of Ardbeg Road, but it had already occurred to him that Scarlett might well have been inside it. Their paths had finally crossed… but seconds too late.
“Let’s go to her house,” Matt suggested.
“Why?” Richard didn’t even look up from his tea.
“I don’t know. She could still be there. But even if she isn’t, now that we’ve come this far…”
Neither Richard nor Jamie spoke.
“I’d just like to see where she lives,” Matt said.
The three of them walked back to Ardbeg Road. It reminded Matt a little of the street where he had once lived. All the houses were terraced with bay windows, neat front gardens and shrubs to hide the wheelie bins. Scarlett’s was about halfway down.
They rang the bell, not expecting it to be answered, but after about half a minute the door opened and they found themselves being examined by a short, stern-looking woman with black hair tied back and eyes that seemed to be expecting trouble.
“Yes?” she said. She had a Scottish accent.
“We’re looking for Scarlett Adams,” Matt said.
“I’m afraid you’ve missed her. She left this morning.”
Richard moved forward. “Do you live here?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m the housekeeper. Are you friends of Scarlett’s?”
“Not exactly,” Matt said. “We’ve just arrived from America. We were hoping to see her.”
“That’s not going to be possible. She’s going to be out of the country for a while.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“It could be a week or two. I’m very sorry, if you’d been here just a few hours ago, you’d have caught her. Do you want to leave a message?”
“No, thank you.”
“Right.”
The woman closed the door.
And that was it. There was nothing more to be done. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Richard sighed. “Anyone fancy a trip to Hong Kong?” he said.
PUERTO FRAGRANTE
Originally, there had been twelve members of the Nexus – the organization that existed only to fight the Old Ones. Professor Sanjay Dravid had been the first to be killed, stabbed at the Natural History Museum the same night that he had met Matt. Later on, a man called Fabian had also died. That just left ten – powerful people who lived in America, Australia, Europe… all over the world.
They had all flown in to meet Matt and Jamie and at half past seven that evening they came together in the secluded, wood-panelled room which was their London base.
The building, which the Nexus owned, stood between two shops and there was nothing, no name or other marking, to suggest that it was anything but a private house. The room itself, up on the first floor, was equally plain. It could have been the meeting place of some small business, perhaps a firm of expensive solicitors. There didn’t seem to be much there – just a long table with thirteen antique chairs, a handful of telephones and a computer and a lot of clocks showing the time all over the world. But the glass door that slid open automatically and then hissed shut, sealing itself as the ten men and women came in, suggested that there might be more to the place than met the eye. A sophisticated camera blinked quietly in the corridor. And the Nexus arrived one at a time, each one entering a different six-digit code before they were allowed in.
Matt wasn’t looking forward to seeing them again. He knew that they were supposed to be on his side, but even so he felt a certain dread entering the room. It was like facing ten head teachers at the same time, knowing he was about to be expelled. There were only two people there who he felt he knew. He had met Susan Ashwood, the medium, at her home near Manchester, and although he had thought she was completely mad, at least he was
