dangerous, live and uninsulated, capable of atrocity.
Danny couldn’t stomach the grimy room he had rented for more than a few hours at a stretch. He had spent the rest of his days hiding deep below the city. Thronging from platform to platform, from station to station, from train to train, lost among the hectic and the anxious, surrounded by people who seemed as nervous as he was. There were CCTV cameras on the Underground, but nothing like as many as glared silently down from buildings, lamp-posts, traffic intersections, anywhere they could be physically strapped above the surface of the city. He kept the umbrella tight over him, savouring the protection it brought.
He checked his watch. Almost one o’clock. He continued to stare through the clear perspex of the bus shelter at the revolving door.
He knew that it hadn’t taken much to expose it. Just his wife, and one of his friends. Darren. Someone he had known since sixth form college. An empty envelope he had discovered in one of Victoria’s drawers. Darren’s almost dyslexic use of a capital R in her first name, the way he always wrote R instead of r. The way Danny had noticed them almost studiously avoiding each other’s eye when a group of his friends had turned up at the pub. The new clothes Victoria had recently bought. But as Danny ran over it again, it still didn’t add up. Victoria and Darren may have been having an affair, he didn’t know for sure. The envelope was empty. He had nothing to go on other than Darren’s handwriting. Suspicion but nothing else. Surely not enough to make him club an innocent person to death during a game of pool? If he had been so insane about the thought of another man and his wife, why hadn’t he attacked Darren? These were the questions he needed to answer now.
And then he spotted her. Victoria, coming through the rotating doors of the office she worked in. A light brown coat with dark leather boots . Pulling out her own umbrella and pushing it open. Heading for the Tube station Danny had just come out of. He stood up, excited, fearful and anxious, just wanting to rush up to her and grab her and ask the sharp tangle of questions that were growing in his head.
He scanned the pavement for police, ducked his head down low and followed her into the Underground.
22
‘I USED TO meet Sarah here occasionally,’ Reuben said, almost to himself. He cast his eyes around the room, with its wooden floors and small windows. It was reassuringly dingy, a coffee house that didn’t have some sort of fake Italian name, and wasn’t part of a spiritless American chain of caffeine peddlers. The staff who worked there even seemed to own it – a last bastion of independence in a city full of conglomerates.
‘How come?’ Mina said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘Just helping out. You know, the benefit of whatever wisdom I’d managed to hold on to. Cases that came up that couldn’t be solved with bog-standard forensics and needed something different, something lateral.’
‘And now?’
‘Sarah’s got you.’
Mina blushed through her dark skin. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘And she’s got a lot on her plate now she’s taken over the unit.’
‘Look, Reuben, this is awkward.’
Reuben peered at her and scratched his chin. His stomach rumbled, telling him it was lunchtime. The results from earlier had stayed with him. Nine correct predictions, one technical fail. He was on the verge of something big, and he knew it.
‘Come on,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, ‘let’s have it.’
‘I don’t know how well I’m doing. I mean I watched you do the job and I saw what it was doing to you. I thought it might be different for me. But it’s not. It’s bloody hard. And I’m not sure I’m really making it happen. I know it’s only temporary until they get someone in to take over permanently—’
Reuben shushed her, holding up his hands. ‘You have the ability to do this. And like you say, it’s
Danny couldn’t stomach the grimy room he had rented for more than a few hours at a stretch. He had spent the rest of his days hiding deep below the city. Thronging from platform to platform, from station to station, from train to train, lost among the hectic and the anxious, surrounded by people who seemed as nervous as he was. There were CCTV cameras on the Underground, but nothing like as many as glared silently down from buildings, lamp-posts, traffic intersections, anywhere they could be physically strapped above the surface of the city. He kept the umbrella tight over him, savouring the protection it brought.
He checked his watch. Almost one o’clock. He continued to stare through the clear perspex of the bus shelter at the revolving door.
He knew that it hadn’t taken much to expose it. Just his wife, and one of his friends. Darren. Someone he had known since sixth form college. An empty envelope he had discovered in one of Victoria’s drawers. Darren’s almost dyslexic use of a capital R in her first name, the way he always wrote R instead of r. The way Danny had noticed them almost studiously avoiding each other’s eye when a group of his friends had turned up at the pub. The new clothes Victoria had recently bought. But as Danny ran over it again, it still didn’t add up. Victoria and Darren may have been having an affair, he didn’t know for sure. The envelope was empty. He had nothing to go on other than Darren’s handwriting. Suspicion but nothing else. Surely not enough to make him club an innocent person to death during a game of pool? If he had been so insane about the thought of another man and his wife, why hadn’t he attacked Darren? These were the questions he needed to answer now.
And then he spotted her. Victoria, coming through the rotating doors of the office she worked in. A light brown coat with dark leather boots . Pulling out her own umbrella and pushing it open. Heading for the Tube station Danny had just come out of. He stood up, excited, fearful and anxious, just wanting to rush up to her and grab her and ask the sharp tangle of questions that were growing in his head.
He scanned the pavement for police, ducked his head down low and followed her into the Underground.
22
‘I USED TO meet Sarah here occasionally,’ Reuben said, almost to himself. He cast his eyes around the room, with its wooden floors and small windows. It was reassuringly dingy, a coffee house that didn’t have some sort of fake Italian name, and wasn’t part of a spiritless American chain of caffeine peddlers. The staff who worked there even seemed to own it – a last bastion of independence in a city full of conglomerates.
‘How come?’ Mina said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘Just helping out. You know, the benefit of whatever wisdom I’d managed to hold on to. Cases that came up that couldn’t be solved with bog-standard forensics and needed something different, something lateral.’
‘And now?’
‘Sarah’s got you.’
Mina blushed through her dark skin. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘And she’s got a lot on her plate now she’s taken over the unit.’
‘Look, Reuben, this is awkward.’
Reuben peered at her and scratched his chin. His stomach rumbled, telling him it was lunchtime. The results from earlier had stayed with him. Nine correct predictions, one technical fail. He was on the verge of something big, and he knew it.
‘Come on,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, ‘let’s have it.’
‘I don’t know how well I’m doing. I mean I watched you do the job and I saw what it was doing to you. I thought it might be different for me. But it’s not. It’s bloody hard. And I’m not sure I’m really making it happen. I know it’s only temporary until they get someone in to take over permanently—’
Reuben shushed her, holding up his hands. ‘You have the ability to do this. And like you say, it’s
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