T
he Gardener straightened up. Looked round. Smiled.
The sacrifice chamber had been filled with flowers. Bunches had been made up, colours and scents carefully combined, positioned at the correct stations round the room. The rest had been strewn over the floor. The smell was becoming overpowering in the confined space. Decay had already started.
Good. That was just how the Gardener wanted it. Needed it.
For the sacrifice.
The candles were in place too. But he had resisted the temptation to start burning them early. The room was cold and dark. He had put on another layer. Navigated by torchlight.
He looked over to the cage. The boy was silent. Curled up in a corner, still wearing the thin back-tied gown from the hospital. Bruises on his hands and arms where needles had been yanked out. Head tucked in. Shivering.
It didn’t matter. Soon he would be beyond cold and beyond heat.
Soon he would be nothing more than the spark that kept the flame of the Garden alight. Keeping it alive.
Until the next sacrifice.
And the next.
He crossed to the workbench. Put the torch down. Picked up his first tool. A sickle. He didn’t need to touch it. He could see how sharp it was just by looking. By the way it caught the torchlight, sent it bouncing round the walls. He replaced it. Picked up the torch again.
Turned and left the chamber.
There was nothing to do now except wait.
For the right time.
Wait.
And savour.
‘T
he Gardener,’ said Mickey once more, ‘how can we find him?’
Lynn Windsor looked close to breaking down. She was shaking. Mickey had never seen anyone literally shake with fear.
‘I … I … ’
He pressed on. ‘Just tell me, Lynn. It’ll be so much easier for you if you do. Tell me. Where’s the Gardener?’
‘I … I … don’t know … ’
He sighed. ‘I think you can do better than that. You’re so unhappy, so scared. Just tell me and it’ll all feel much better. Come on.’
Heads nearly touching, hands nearly together, he was close to cracking her. He could feel it. One last try. A gentle push to take her over the edge.
‘Come on, Lynn … ’
Then he heard Marina’s voice once more. ‘Good, Mickey. Here’s something else. If that doesn’t work, ask her about the Elders.’
Mickey gave a puzzled frown to the window. Small, so only Marina could catch it.
‘Please. Trust me. Ask her about the Elders. Ask her where they are. She’s the Teacher. Tell her you know that.’
Marina’s voice disappeared. Mickey was left alone with Lynn Windsor. He didn’t understand what Marina had said. But what she had fed him seemed to be having the right effect. So he would continue, pretend he felt more confident than he did. Use the words. See what they did.
‘Lynn … what about the Elders? What would they say?’
Her head jerked up in shock. Her eyes, tearful, rimmed red and black from crying and make-up, locked on to his. Stared at him. Her hand reached out for his. Grasped it and clung on, like he was the last life raft on the
Titanic
.
‘The Elders, Lynn. Would they be happy to see you here like this?’
She was shaking now, like she was about to fall apart. Both psychologically and physically, thought Mickey.
‘That’s right about the Elders, isn’t it? You are the Teacher, after all.’
Mickey had no idea what he was saying, but he couldn’t believe the effect the words were having on her.
‘Come on. Just tell me … ’
She looked up once more, imploring him, her mouth moving but no sound emerging.
‘Come on, Lynn … ’ Mickey’s voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy between them even deeper than that they had shared the previous night. ‘Tell me. And it’ll be all over … ’
She reached forward for him, hands clinging desperately to him, working her way up his arms. Grabbing him, holding him, just about crawling over the table to be near him.
‘Please … ’ Her voice was broken, almost shattered in pieces. A vocal manifestation of her mental state. ‘Please, help me … help me … ’
‘I will,’ said Mickey, whispering once more, not wanting to break the moment. ‘I will. Tell me where the Gardener is and I’ll help you. I promise.’
She put her head on his arms, sobbing.
‘Tell me. Please.’
She looked up, mind made up, mouth open, ready to speak.
And then the door burst open.
‘What the fuck’s going on here?’
Mickey turned. DCI Glass was standing behind him.
And he didn’t look happy.
‘W
hat the hell were you thinking of?’
Glass was in the observation room with Mickey and Marina. The room was so small, it was crowded with just one person in it. But three, standing there amidst all the old filing cabinets and broken office furniture, made it look massively overcrowded. It also made Glass seem even angrier. Mickey could almost feel the heat from the DCI’s words as they left his mouth.
Behind them, Lynn Windsor sat at the table. Sobbing, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Next to her, a consoling arm around her shoulder, was her boss, Michael Fenton. His head close to hers, whispering. The sound was switched off. They couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Mickey turned to Glass, realising that the question wasn’t rhetorical and he was expecting an answer.
Marina got there first. ‘In the absence of anyone else in the office, Mickey came to me,’ she said. ‘He had strong suspicions about Lynn Windsor. She’d been questioned already but he thought she would benefit from a more formal interview.’
Mickey studied Marina as she spoke. She was watching Glass’s responses, wary. As if she was measuring her words, careful of what she said to him. Mickey had found himself doing that with Glass because he didn’t trust him, but Marina’s actions confirmed that he was doing the right thing.
‘And what made you think that?’
Again, Marina spoke before Mickey could. ‘We received information that she was in some way connected with the abductor and would-be murderer of the boy taken from the hospital.’
‘What kind of information?’
‘Something to do with the Gardener?’ Marina kept her face as blank as possible while she spoke.
The effect on Glass was immediate. It was clear he knew what she was talking about. It was equally clear that he was trying to pretend he didn’t. He waited a few seconds, absorbing the information, letting his features settle down, preparing his response.
‘What … what d’you mean? Who’s the Gardener?’
‘He’s the person we believe is responsible for the boy’s abduction,’ said Mickey.
Glass turned to him. Face like stone, eyes like granite. ‘And what would make you believe that?’
‘Information received from an informant,’ said Mickey. ‘A confidential informant. It … involved Lynn Windsor. So I made the decision to bring her in for questioning.’
‘But how could she … how could she know anything? She’s a solicitor, for God’s sake.’
‘Yes,’ said Marina, ‘and solicitors never know anything, do they?’
‘But she’s not a criminal lawyer,’ Glass explained, as if they were two retarded children. ‘She’s one of the most well-respected solicitors in the area.’
‘And she may know something about the imminent murder of a child,’ said Mickey. ‘If we had got her to talk, we could have saved that boy’s life.’
‘She can’t know anything,’ Glass said.
‘And you’re sure of that, are you?’ said Marina.
Glass didn’t reply. Just glared at her.
‘You wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a murder investigation, would you?’ said Mickey.
Glass turned his stare on him.
‘Sir,’ Mickey added.
It seemed to Mickey that Glass was making a pretence of thinking. He came to a conclusion. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We can’t take the chance, can we?’
‘Good,’ said Mickey. He turned for the door. ‘I’ll just—’
‘No,’ said Glass, putting a restraining hand on his arm. ‘I’ll handle the interview. And it’ll be done properly this time.’
‘It was done properly last time,’ said Mickey. ‘Check the recording.’
Glass seemed to hesitate, stuck for what to do. He quickly made up his mind. ‘I’ll still handle the interview. But her solicitor will be present.’ He looked round the observation room. ‘And I’ll do it in private.’
‘Why?’ said Mickey.
‘In case she has anything of a … sensitive nature to reveal.’ He turned to go, turned back again. ‘Good, er, good work, DS Philips.’
He left the room.
Mickey turned to Marina, about to speak. She put her finger to her lips, looked at the door. They waited until Glass had entered the interview room and, along with Michael Fenton, escorted Lynn Windsor from the room.
Only then did Mickey speak.
‘What was all that about?’ he said. ‘And where did you get all that stuff from?’
‘I’ll tell you later. Somewhere more private,’ she said. ‘All I can tell you at the moment, the most important thing at this time, is that Glass is dirty. He’s as bent as they come.’
Mickey gave a small laugh. ‘I think I’d guessed that.’
‘And he’s in this all the way.’ Marina looked at her watch. ‘Coffee time. Come on. I’m buying.’
They both left the room.
P
hil’s phone rang.
He thought it must be Marina calling him back, telling him what had happened in Mickey’s interview with Lynn Windsor. But it wasn’t. It was pathologist Nick Lines calling.
‘I’ve got to take this,’ Phil said to the others in the hotel room.
‘Phil, it’s Nick. How are you?’
‘Suspended, believe it or not. How are you?’
There was a pause while Nick took in what Phil had just said. ‘Sorry?’
‘Suspended. DCI Glass has suspended me.’
‘Why?’
‘God knows. You’d better ask him.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Phil. ‘It’s only temporary.’
I hope
, he added mentally. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well I’ve been trying to reach Rose Martin and can’t get hold of her.’
‘No,’ said Phil, ‘you won’t. Can I help?’
‘If you know where she is.’
Phil gave some thought to his answer. ‘I don’t think she’s going to be around for a while.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah.’ Let Nick think she was off the force again. Phil wouldn’t contradict him.
‘So can I help?’
‘It was just something she was looking into. She found a brand on the foot of a dead girl. She asked if I could find a match anywhere for it.’
Phil stole a glance at Donna, back to the phone. ‘And have you?’
‘Not on a dead person, no. But that case you were working on, that boy from the cage, the one in the hospital. I spoke to a friend at the General. Apparently he’s got one. I haven’t seen the photos, but you’ve probably got access to them.’ Then he realised what he had said. ‘Sorry.’
‘No problem. I’ll pass the message across.’
‘This suspension,’ said Nick. ‘You’re going to fight it, I take it?’
‘All the way.’
‘With all you’ve got going on at the moment, you’d think Glass would need all the help he can get. He’s making a big mistake.’
‘Well obviously I agree with you. But don’t worry.’ Phil looked across at Fennell and Clemens. They were sitting on the bed, making plans for the raid later that night. ‘I have a feeling our esteemed DCI won’t be around much longer … ’
G
lass sat down at the table in the interview room. A different interview room. One with no cameras or voice relay. A totally private room. For an impromptu Elders meeting.
Opposite him were Lynn Windsor and Michael Fenton. Lynn looked shattered, like she was barely there. Fenton’s brow was furrowed. He had called Glass after Lynn had gone downstairs to meet someone and never come back. Mickey Philips had been identified, as had his car pulling away. The two Elders had arrived at the police station just in time.
Glass sensed that the others were on the verge of panic. He had to take control of the situation and do it quickly.
‘We need a story,’ he said. ‘And fast. Concentrate. Think.’
Lynn Windsor started to speak. ‘Look, Lawmaker—’
Glass cut her off. ‘There’s no need for that here. We’re perfectly safe. No one’s going to overhear us in this room. Talk freely. We need damage limitation. What have we got?’
Lynn tried to speak again. The words wouldn’t come. Clearly she couldn’t focus her mind. Her eyes dropped to the table, the floor.
Yeah
, thought Glass,
be ashamed
. He shook his head, turned away from her.
Useless
, he thought.
She almost gave us up. And I had such high hopes for her. Not any more
.
‘You mentioned giving up the Gardener,’ said Fenton. ‘You said if we gave him up it would deflect attention from the shipment coming in tonight. Can you still do that? How has this changed things?’
Glass turned back to Lynn. ‘What did he say to you?’
A weary, defeated sigh. ‘I’ve told you … ’
‘Tell me again.’
‘He said, tell me where the Gardener is. He said … ’ Another sigh. It was such hard work. ‘He said … that. Just that. Tell me where the Gardener is. Tell me where he is so we can stop him.’
‘And that’s it? Nothing else?’
She was about to speak, but stopped herself. She shook her head. ‘No.’ Her voice tiny, curled in on itself.
Glass studied her. ‘You’re lying. Tell me.’
Fenton leaned across the table. ‘Don’t talk to her like that … ’
Glass looked up quickly, his eyes flashing at Fenton. ‘Be quiet.’
Fenton caught the look. Was silenced.
‘What else did he say?’
Another sigh that carried the weight of the world. ‘He … he … called me … Teacher … ’
The other two sat back.
‘Oh my God … ’ Fenton’s hand went to his mouth.
‘Said … said … he knew about the Elders … ’
Glass felt the room zoom in and out of focus, like he was at both ends of a telescope simultaneously. He tried to blink everything else away. Concentrate. Focus.
‘That’s it,’ Fenton was saying. ‘It’s all over. Might as well make a run for it now.’ He made to stand up.
‘No.’ Glass leaned across the table, grabbed his wrist. Pulled him down again. ‘We stick together. We work this out.’
‘But they’re on to us … ’
‘No they’re not.’ Glass shook his head. ‘No they’re not. They can’t be. I’d have heard something. I’d know. And I’ve heard nothing.’
‘But he knew … ’
‘Yes, he knew,’ said Glass. ‘But that doesn’t mean he knows everything.’ He looked back at Lynn. Lifted her head up by the chin, made eye contact. ‘Did he mention the shipment? Tonight? Did he say anything about that?’
It took her a few seconds to focus. She shook her head. ‘No … ’
‘You sure?’ Searching her face for lies.
She shook her head once more. ‘No … he didn’t say … ’
‘Good.’ Glass let her head go. It flopped back down. ‘Good.’ He sat back, thinking. Then leaned forward. ‘Here’s what we do. We stick to the plan.’
‘But … ’
‘Listen. We stick to the plan. All of it. Where’s the Gardener? At the farmhouse?’
‘Probably,’ said Fenton. ‘That’s his other place.’
‘So he’ll be doing the sacrifice there. Good. Right.’ He slowly nodded his head. ‘This is what’ll happen. I’ll announce to the squad that I’ve received some information. That the Gardener is at the farmhouse. I’ll arrange for an armed response unit to accompany me. We’ll break into the place, stop him.’
‘But … isn’t that dangerous?’
Glass gave a grim smile. ‘For him, maybe. I’ll be armed too. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get out alive. We rescue the boy, come back to town, everybody’s happy. In the meantime, the shipment comes in at Harwich and everybody’s happy there, too. Perfect diversionary tactic. And an impressive collar for Essex Police too. Perfect.’
Fenton rubbed his chin. ‘It’s risky. The farmhouse is where clients pick up and drop off. What if they see the place on the news? What if they come forward?’
Glass laughed. ‘Come forward? After what they’ve done? I doubt it.’
‘Is there anything there that links the place to us?’
Glass thought. ‘It’s where I took Faith Luscombe. Intending to move her back to the Garden. So I may have left some DNA traces there, but only small ones. And this way is better. I’ll have a legitimate reason for being there. And I’ll be in charge of the investigation. I’ll be controlling everything. Don’t worry. Just keep calm, play your part and everything will be fine.’
Lynn’s head came up slowly. ‘This information … ’
Glass frowned. ‘What information?’
‘This information … about the Gardener … where did you get it from?’
‘Nowhere. There is no information.’
‘Did you … get it from me?’
He saw what she meant. Was she guilty, had she told them anything? What were the repercussions going to be for her? He thought. Came to a decision. Smiled at her.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘You’ve got your solicitor with you, you’ll be free to leave here on your own recognisance. You’ll not be charged with anything. I’ll just say the information came from … an informant. Don’t worry. You won’t be implicated.’
She nodded her head, grateful to hear what she wanted to hear. She wasn’t aware of the silent exchange that passed between Fenton and Glass. Fenton’s look said that he understood perfectly what Glass was doing. Glass’s look asked whether Fenton wanted to challenge it. The way Fenton broke eye contact and looked away told him the answer was no.
Glass sat back. Looked at the other two. ‘So that’s it. Everything will go ahead as planned. Leave the Gardener to me. And hold your nerve. Everything will be fine if we all hold our nerve. Right?’
Fenton nodded.
Glass stood up, opened the door for them to leave. Fenton helped Lynn to her feet. As they passed the DCI on their way out, Glass whispered to Fenton, ‘Look after her. She’s very fragile. She may not last the night.’
Fenton, knowing exactly what he meant and wanting no part of it, hurried Lynn away down the corridor. Glass watched them go.
Smiling.