IX

"I'm still considering leaving you in here." Lord Scarman stepped carefully past Viv into the cell. Hunt was sitting on the long concrete bench, arms folded, legs crossed and straight. Opposite him two young blaggers shivered in string singlets, undies and bare feet.

"What took you so long?" Hunt nodded a greeting and rose. His greasy hair fell about his face and he ran his hair through it. He noted CS Paulson hovering beyond the cell door. Wringing your hands, of course. Paulson had stood open-mouthed as Vanderzee and some officers had escorted Hunt down to the cells, and he was none the wiser hours later when Lord Scarman appeared at his office with the Commissioner. All he knew was that people weren't going home to their wives and children – there were many hallway conversations, visitations to offices and phone calls. The Commissioner had ordered him to stay at work and he'd had to cancel his dinner reservations at the Carcassone. And as usual, the trouble started with DCI Hunt.

The tape of Vanderzee's phone was in Scarman's hands – he tapped it thoughtfully. Hunt could tell he was recalling their previous meeting and Hunt's grandiose speech. "Did you play it?"

"Yes."

"You know why we came to you, Sir."

"I need a lot of questions answered, DCI Hunt. The Commissioner does too."

"I know it seems ridiculous, sir. But it's true. I've got a lot more than just the tape. I've got files."

"Yes … MI5, murder, Greek mythology." Somehow Hunt had known the Classical references to Artemis and Actaeon would interest him. Drake'll have to bore them all with the full twatting meaning behind it, of course.

Finally Scarman contemplated his square-cut nails and then held out his hand to Hunt, winced slightly as the man shook it hard. "Let's get you out of here."

"I am your man, Lord Scarman. It's good to see you." You bald, plummy, gorgeous bastard. I could pash you. Hunt followed him back past the wall of cells and clapped his hands around Ray's shoulders. "Good day's work, Raymondo. I owe you."

"Thanks, Guv. I hope we've done the right thing. Else I hope we get to share a prison cell."

"Err yeah." No chance, he thought. He just needed to get Scarman and the Commissioner in the same room – needed time with them… He reached out for Chris and Shaz too when he got back up into the reception. They'd been sitting and whispering among the usual night intake of drunks and sex pests. A ridiculous hug for one, then the other. "Where's Drake?" he asked finally. We've got unfinished business, Bolly.

"Hunt," CS Paulson called, holding the lift doors open.


"Did you make Tim do it?" Alex shouted, insistent as if she were the one holding a gun. "Did you make it so he wanted to kill… put the bomb in the car?"

The whites of Evan's eyes shone. "Yes. I helped him. But that's it, because he begged me."

"He begged you because he knew you would do it," Layton was like a correcting school-master. "He knew you were capable. Like me. He begged you after you put it in his mind that there was nothing left to live for. Alex, don't trust a word he says. I'm sorry he's lying to you. If you'd only turned around at the Scrubs that day when he was coming in to rescue me, and you were going out. He gave me money and he said I could have much more. You didn't turn around." He liked the idea of this – a momentous near miss. He'd made Evan tell him more than once about it. Now he held the gun across his chest.

Evan was calm, but she knew they both had reason to fear. She knew a word could trigger Layton, or a look. What had she said to make him shoot her?

I can't remember why he shot me. Don't look at him.

"He whispered these things into my ear. He told me that if I went with him and planted that bomb that he'd make sure I'd be alright." Layton was wearing so many layers of clothes – ragged, dark jerseys and shirts – that he appeared like a dark matter spectre out of a horror movie. He felt like a ghost too. He wanted to feel alive again.

"Why? You would have killed Alex." She couldn't fathom the look on Evan's face. What kind of man had done this and then spent all those years pretending to her?

It came back to her then. Under the pier, Layton had been talking to Evan on his mobile phone. He'd demanded that Evan come down to the pier, and Evan had refused. How had the call ended?

"Well, it's your choice."

You spent all those years bringing me up. But then you chose to let me die, she thought. You don't know it now, but you are worse than you realise.

"I love Alex," Evan said, eyes pleading. "I am a good parent to her. You know it. You saw them both – they never took care of Alex like I do now. Caroline didn't love her own daughter. So many times she left that little girl because there'd be some client that needed bailing, or some work she needed to go into the office to complete."

You're going to let me die, and you're going to spend the rest of your life lying to Molly. Telling her lies about me. Telling her I didn't love her.

"I will dedicate my life to her, and I will make up for it."

"Stop lying to me!" Alex tried to stop herself from saying anything else, but at that moment she could have taken the gun and shot Evan herself.


As he reached out for the door to the research room he tripped, swear words echoing up the stairwell. Puffing because he'd bolted off so fast. Yes of course. Ripped the boxes away from the wall and couldn't get to the receiver fast enough. Yes it was still recording Evan's telephone. Fingers fumbling with the buttons, feeling sick at the endless rewinding tape spools. Come on, come on, come on.

It was just a feeling. He was wanted up stairs to help explain the conversations on the tape. Scarman and the Commissioner – what would they think at him running off? He should be up there. What if Vanderzee got to them first and told them a pack of lies?

It was just a feeling. She's probably at home. But she hadn't answered her phone there. Dozy bird. Getting drunk downstairs and talking bollocks. But Luigi hadn't seen her since she'd come in just before the arrival of Vanderzee and his men.

The tape clicked, crackled.

"It's Evan, Alex. I'm sorry, Alex. I've put you in danger and you've got to listen to me."


Layton hadn't eaten in a day or so. Suddenly he felt he might collapse. Him. Her. They were exhausting him with their accusations. The gun felt so heavy. The loveliness, the satisfaction, of the choices before him was wearing off. Those choices had made him feel full. Now he had a headache and he put one shaky hand to his forehead to try and pressure the pain away.

On the one hand Evan had made him promises, and Evan had not kept them. He is a snake. The strength of that conviction – he shook the gun at Evan even as he thought about all the promises Evan had made. I was supposed to get my empire back.

On the other, there was Alex. Sometimes he imagined… No, that was exhausting to think about as well. What had she called him? He'd never forget that.

Loser.

Layton felt the pier shake. Someone was coming behind him, still far enough away that he couldn't make anything out but a shadow when he glanced back over his shoulder. Someone was coming. The fairy lights shook.

He still had choices. Alex was looking past him – there was something on her lips and Layton could feel the vibrations in the planks get stronger.

Alex held out her arms, looked at him. Don't look at me.

"Layton!" Evan yelled out. "Like we promised!"

Yeah. One choice now. He shot at her without aiming and climbed over the railings, enjoying the short fall into the dark river.