‘Small world.’
‘It sure is. Six degrees of separation, and all that.’
‘How did you make the connection?’
‘It was Eva,’ said Dom, grinding the toes of his black Converse All Stars into the dirt. ‘I got Gideon to do some basic research, since he’s quite good on the old Google and the various other databases we use to keep an eye on our clients…’
Other databases? But Carlyle didn’t enquire further.
‘… and when we pieced together what you were actually interested in,’ Dom shot Carlyle an amused look, ‘I spoke to Eva about it. I knew that she’d been there around the same time, and she remembers the Ashton kid topping himself. You know what teenagers are like, melodrama-wise. It was a big deal back then.’
Carlyle sat back, prepared to be impressed. ‘So how did Eva connect Robert Ashton to the Merrion Club?’
‘The housemate’s sister.’
‘This…?’
‘Susy Ahl. A-H-L.’
‘Ahl. OK, got it.’
‘She was Ashton’s girlfriend.’
‘OK,’ said Carlyle, genuinely interested now.
‘After the kid killed himself, Susy Ahl went off on one big time, apparently…’
‘As you would.’
‘As you would indeed. But she blamed the Carltons and the rest of their crew for driving him to it.’
‘Why?’
‘That,’ Dom said, ‘I don’t know. According to Eva, Ahl kicked up quite a fuss. But no one took her seriously, and she disappeared fairly soon afterwards. Eva graduated that summer, 1985, then she went travelling for a bit. After she got back, she married the moron-stroke-junkie tosspot who made her life hell for the best part of ten years. She was too busy trying to get the shithead clean to bother keeping in contact with all her old pals, so she lost touch with the housemate, too.’
Carlyle idly wondered what role Dom had played in trying to get the ‘shithead’ off drugs, himself being a drug dealer and all. Again, he kept his mouth shut.
‘Then I came along, and we had the kids, and things just moved on. It’s been a busy couple of decades. Now, hey presto, it’s twenty-five years later and now we’re caught up in our own little episode of A Week in Westminster meets Crimewatch.’
‘Where do I find the sister, Eva’s old flat mate?’ Carlyle asked eagerly.
‘She’s in Canada.’
‘Fuck, you’re kidding?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Dom watched a look of exasperation cloud Carlyle’s face, and he smiled. He then dug into the back pocket of his Levis, pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it over. ‘Sarah, the sister, is living somewhere west of Calgary. She married a cowboy or something. They have even more kids than Eva and me, apparently.’
‘That’s good to know,’ Carlyle said gloomily.
‘Susy Ahl, on the other hand,’ Dom grinned, ‘is right here in London.’
Carlyle stared at the address on the piece of paper and smiled. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Unless she’s done a runner in the last fourteen or fifteen hours. Eva tracked down Sarah through her mum. Happily for you, the dear old mum has been living in the same house in Winchester for the past forty years.’
‘Nice.’
‘Yeah.’ Dom stood up and gave his legs a stretch. ‘Thanks again for lunch.’
‘My pleasure,’ Carlyle smiled. ‘You’re a cheap date.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Dom scratched at Neil Young’s head, around the spot where his own left nipple should be. ‘By the way, one other bit of background info for you…’
‘Yes?’
‘… my man Gideon served under Christian Holyrod in Afghanistan, three years ago.’
‘What did he think of him?’
‘Gideon doesn’t talk that much, about anything. I think he probably has some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder. That or he’s just bored shitless at being home. Either way, I think he felt that Holyrod was basically fine.’
‘Insightful.’
‘It tells you something,’ Dom shrugged. ‘Guys like Gideon, they’re in it for the buzz, essentially. It’s like extreme sports with automatic weapons, and you can actually kill people. Can you imagine the rush that must provide?’
‘No.’ Carlyle had never even held a gun in his life, for which he was very grateful. He didn’t want to think about what it might feel like.
‘Well, you always did lack a certain imagination.’ Dom smiled. ‘Anyway, as regards your average squaddie, as long as the public-schoolboy officer class don’t spoil their fun too much, they put up with them. Holyrod was well enough liked, I think. Gideon could equally take him or leave him.’
‘Not exactly a ringing endorsement,’ Carlyle said.
Dom fixed him with a firm stare. ‘At least he didn’t take out his Browning Hi-Power and put a 9 mm slug in Holyrod’s back halfway up some mountain somewhere.’
‘So?’
‘So… Holyrod was a proper soldier, John. He’s not really a politician – not deep down in his DNA. He’s had experience of doing a proper job.’
‘So?’
‘So, he’s probably someone you can do business with.’ He paused. ‘Or, at least, he’s more likely to be someone you can do business with than the rest of them are.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ Carlyle said, and sat for a minute in silent contemplation. The pigeon made one last foray towards the crisp packet before giving up and wandering off in search of a handout from some tourist. For a second, he even felt a bit sorry for the bird, before quickly returning to his own problems. ‘What do you think this is all about, Dom?’
‘I don’t know, mate,’ Dom sniffed, ‘and really I don’t care. That’s your job.’
‘Apparently.’
Dom eyed at him carefully. ‘I know that you must understand just what a tricky situation you currently find yourself in.’
‘Yes.’
‘So it doesn’t need me to tell you how careful you need to be in dealing with people like this.’
‘Why not?’ said Carlyle, smiling. ‘Everyone else has.’
‘That’s good,’ Dom grinned. ‘It means people are looking out for you. Be grateful, you dumb fucking plod, and accept their advice.’
‘I will.’
‘I’ll look out for your case on the news. Let me know how it goes.’ The mobile in the back pocket of Dom’s jeans started ringing, but he ignored it. ‘And remember…’
‘Yes?’
Dom cranked up his air guitar. ‘Keep on rockin’ in the free world, baby!’
Neil Young started playing inside Carlyle’s head as he watched Dom saunter out of the garden, and back into the hustle and flow of the city. What should he do next? He had started making a list in his head, when his own phone went.
‘Inspector?’
‘Rosanna, how are you?’ He was happy enough to get the call, since it delayed the need for him to do anything else.
‘You recognised my voice!’ she chirruped happily.
Carlyle stretched out on the bench and stifled a post-prandial yawn. For most people, lunch hour was now
