The Dead Tracks

    He shook his head. 'No. We don't maintain a presence there, otherwise it starts to look suspicious. The houses are close together; lots of windows, lots of people. The task force calls her a couple of times a day, and she's got a panic button for emergencies. That's why it's best to go at night. They don't bother her after seven in the evening unless she indicates she's in trouble — and all the neighbours will have their curtains shut, so we won't get any added attention.'

    We descended into silence.

    Healy turned the radio on, and we both listened to the fallout from a north London derby at the Emirates. About five minutes further on, he hung a right into a short stretch of road with a series of double-storey, grey-brick terraced houses at the far end. They looked like they'd been airlifted in from the Eastern Bloc, then dumped in the centre of the city to decompose. A thin path led through an arch and into a courtyard. There were no doors on the outside of the buildings. The adjacent car park was set in semi- darkness, a solitary street lamp standing sentry, its orange glow flickering on and off. Healy pulled into it and killed the engine.

    A second later, my phone started ringing. I'd had it off all day, but had switched it on briefly to check messages as we left Walthamstow. I'd forgotten to turn it back off again. I reached into my pocket and took it out, ready to kill the call.

    But it was Jill.

    I pressed Answer. 'Hello?'

    Silence. A buzz, like interference.

    'Jill?'

    Then the line went dead. I glanced at Healy. He was looking out of his window to where a group of teenagers had gathered beneath the street light. But he was listening to every word. I tried calling Jill back, but after ten unanswered rings it went to voicemail.

    'So what are you going to do?' Healy said, without looking at me.

    I flipped my phone shut. 'About what?'

    'About her.'

    It was obvious he saw this as some kind of weakness in me, as if by expressing mild concern about Jill I'd somehow let my guard down. But I just ignored him, and turned my thoughts back to her. Why call someone if you weren't going to answer? And even if she'd accidentally dialled my number, why not pick up when I rang back?

    'We can't afford to waste time.'

    'I know that.'

    'Where Does she live?'

    'Acton.'

    He rolled his eyes and looked away again, over to where the teenagers had produced a big bottle of cider and a pack of cigarettes. 'Acton's miles away.'

    'I know that, Healy,' I said sharply.

    He made a big show of looking at his watch as if he didn't believe me. I flipped my phone open again and dialled Jill's number, just to piss him off.

    The line connected.

    I let it ring nine times, then hung up. Next, I dialled directory enquiries and got a landline. They connected me. Again, the line continuously rang for half a minute. But just as I was about to hang up, someone answered.

    'Hello?'

    'Jill?'

    'David?'

    'Are you okay?'

    'Yes, fine. Why?'

    'It's just… you called me a minute ago and didn't answer.'

    A hesitation. 'Did I?'

    'I just wanted to make sure you were okay.'

    'I'm fine.'

    'Are you sure?'

    'Yes, I'm good. I just…' She faded off.

    'Just what?'

    'Oh, nothing. I guess I just got spooked again, that's all.'

    'About what?'

    A pause. 'I don't know. This house, being on my own.'

    'What's the matter?'

    She didn't reply. 'Jill?'

    'It's…' She stopped. 'It's just…'

    'What?'

    'I'm sure I just saw someone.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'The same man from before. The man in the red Ford. The one who was watching my place when you came round that night. I'm sure he keeps passing the house.'

    I glanced at Healy. He had turned his head slightly in my direction, shifting closer as he listened to what she was saying. But he made a show of looking at his watch, so he could remind me that our priority was sitting inside a house about five hundred feet away.

    'Can you call Aron?'

    'No. He's in Paris.'.

    I remembered him saying he was flying out earlier in the day.

    'Okay, listen. I'm going to call a friend of mine and send him around. His name's Ewan Tasker. I'll get him to sit with you until I can get there.'

    'Oh, thank you, David.'

    'Okay. Sit tight.'

    I hung up, didn't bother even looking at Healy as he glanced at his watch again, and dialled Tasker's number. He answered on the third ring. I told him what I needed him to do and he agreed immediately to drive around to Jill's. I thanked him, gave him her number just in case, then hung up and got out of the car. Healy looked across at me.

    'Well,' I said. 'What are you waiting for?'

Chapter Fifty-nine

    The houses in Sona's complex were built into a square, with the front doors facing on to a courtyard. They were two-storey homes, a separate flat on each floor, a stairwell leading to the top-floor flat in each of them. Everything was exactly the same: whitewashed windowsills, blue doors, grey-slate roof.

    We moved through the arch and into the courtyard. It was large and overgrown, a huge oak tree spiralling up into the night from the centre. Dull cream street lamps ran in a line, tracing the right angles of the buildings all the way along. Each collection of ten houses had been given a different name: flats 1—20 were Randall; flats 21— 40 were Chance. It looked like flats 41—60 were called Wren, but by the time we'd got to numbers 26 and 27, Healy had stopped.

    'This is it?'

    'Yeah, this is it,' Healy replied, and started moving up the stairwell to the top floor. He looked left and right, and then knocked four times on the door. Paused. Then knocked again. 'Just follow my lead,' he whispered. 'And don't act surprised.'

    I frowned at him.

    'Just don't act surprised,' he repeated.

    A knock on the door, from the inside.

    Healy leaned in further, as if he'd been expecting it.