Private Games (Private 3)

‘Two Furies gone. It’s just Marta and Cronus now,’ Knight said dully, putting down the children’s cold-medicine bottle. ‘Do you think Daring could be Cronus? After what Farrell told us. The stalking in the Balkans? The flute?’

‘I don’t know.’

Knight suddenly felt gripped by doubt, intense and claustrophobic. ‘Does it matter where I am when a call comes in?’

‘It shouldn’t,’ Pottersfield replied.

He set Kate’s photograph down on the changing table and said, ‘I can’t just sit here, Elaine. I feel like I have to move. I’m going to take a walk. Is that okay?’

‘Just keep your mobile on.’

‘Tell Hooligan to call me when he gets here. And Jack Morgan should be notified. They’re at the stadium for the relays.’

She nodded and said, ‘We’ll find them.’

‘I know,’ he said with wavering conviction.

Knight put on his raincoat and left by the rear door in case the media were already camped outside. He walked down the alley, trying to decide whether to wander aimlessly or to get the car and drive back to High Beach Church to pray. But then he understood that he really had just one place to go, and only one person he wanted to see.

Knight altered direction and trudged through the rainy city, passing pubs and hearing cheering coming from inside. It sounded as though England was winning football gold while he was losing everything that ever mattered to him.

His hair and his trouser legs were soaking wet when he reached the door on Milner Street and rang the bell and pounded the knocker while looking up at the security camera.

The door opened, revealing Boss. ‘She can’t be seen,’ he said sharply.

‘Get out of my way, little man,’ Knight said in a tone so threatening that his mother’s assistant stood aside without further protest.

Knight opened the door of his mother’s studio without knocking. Amanda was hunched over her design table, cutting fabric. A dozen or more original new creations hung on mannequins around the room.

His mother looked up icily. ‘Haven’t I made it abundantly clear that I wish to be left alone, Peter?’

Walking towards her, Knight said, ‘Mother—’

But she cut him off: ‘Leave me alone, Peter. What in God’s name are you doing here? It’s your children’s birthday. You should be with them.’

It was the final straw. Knight felt dizzy and then blacked out.

Chapter 92

KAREN POPE HURRIED THROUGH the drizzling rain and the dimming light towards Knight’s house in Chelsea. She’d been tipped off by the Sun’s police reporter that something big was going on at the Private investigator’s home, and she’d gone there immediately, dialling Knight’s number constantly on the way.

But Pope kept getting an odd beeping noise and then a voice saying that his number was ‘experiencing network difficulties’. She could see the police barrier ahead and …

‘Oi, Peter call you in too, then?’ Hooligan asked, trotting up beside her. His eyes were red and his breath smelled of cigarettes, garlic and beer. ‘I came from the bloody gold-medal game. I missed the winning goal!’

‘Missed it for what?’ she demanded. ‘Why are the police here?’

He told her and Pope felt like crying. ‘Why? Why his kids?’

It was the same thing she asked Pottersfield when they got inside.

‘Peter believes that it’s a diversionary tactic,’ the inspector said.

Hooligan could not hide the slight slur in his voice, saying, ‘Maybe. I mean this Marta was here for the past fortnight, right?’

‘Give or take, I think,’ Pope said.

‘Right, so I’m asking myself why?’ Hooligan replied. ‘And I’m thinking Cronus sends her in as a spy. He can’t get someone inside Scotland Yard, but he can get this Marta inside Private, right?’