‘But you have no proof.’
‘There are some things in life you do not need proof to see.’
‘You don’t think that your wife—’
‘Mr Bryant, I hope you are not about to suggest that she was in any way attracted to my brother. That would be an insult to her memory.’
‘May I ask how your mother died?’
‘In hospital, from cancer.’
‘You’ve never feared for your own life?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I don’t understand. If you’re convinced that your brother is capable of murder, why are you so sure that you’re safe?’
‘My mother let everyone know that her religion protected me. Minos believed in the old gods enough to avoid angering them. Now I think I have answered all your questions.’
‘But you,’ persisted Bryant, ‘do you really believe in the old gods?’
‘It is how I was raised. I would sit in the cliff garden and see my ancient protectors seated all around myself and my mother.’
‘And do they still protect you?’
‘Of course. The events of my life are beyond my control, just as yours are. I must get to the theatre.’
‘I’m sorry to have kept you.’ Bryant rose to his feet. ‘I was wondering . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m fascinated by your mythological beliefs. I wonder if you’d care to take lunch with me tomorrow. The theatre has no performance, and you can tell me more about them.’
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea, Mr Bryant. I’m a little too old to fall for such obvious tricks, don’t you think?’
‘I assure you, I intended only to be sociable.’ Bryant was flustered, mortified.
‘It’s all right, I suppose in your clumsy way you mean well.’ He gave a sour laugh. ‘You have a lot to learn, I think. I can take care of myself without the help of the damned police. I worry more for my friends at the Palace. My theatre is under attack, my staff are being killed and injured.’ He struggled to his feet and swayed so violently that for a moment Bryant thought he was going to topple backwards. ‘The Palace is being assaulted by Christian moralists, your courts are trying to close me down before we even open and the press is denouncing me as a filthy foreign pervert out to corrupt the innocent, plucky islanders. This is no time to attack cherished national institutions. Well, we shall see who survives and who falls, but I know one thing: the show will go on, come hellfire, Blitz or the Lord Chamberlain. If people think I am the devil, we shall have a merry Hell.’
And with that declaration of war, Andreas Renalda swept from the cluttered office with as much force as his crippled legs could muster.
‘Interesting,’ said Bryant after the magnate had been helped back into his car. ‘He’s hiding something about this brother of his. But he’ll only answer direct questions, and I’m clearly not asking the right ones.’
‘Then let’s run with your instincts,’ said May. ‘Take a chance.’
Bryant shook the idea from his head. ‘We have to uncover the truth about Minos before we start accusing anyone. Come on, it’s time for curtain up.’
44
LOOKING OUTSIDE
‘They’ve put together an e-fit of your culprit.’ Liberty DuCaine waited for the printer to finish running off a hard copy of the monochrome JPEG, then passed it over to May and Longbright. The annexe of Kentish Town station was experiencing an eerie lull in the battle-stations activity that had been surging around them all day. Officers sat making quiet phone calls, wearily nursing plastic cups of coffee.
‘What’s it based on?’ asked Longbright, examining the face on the desk.
‘A couple of bouncers from the Camden Palace were walking past Mornington Crescent tube station, heading for their car. They saw this geezer come out of the door to the unit just before the bomb went off.’
‘These things are about as much use as old Identikit posters,’ May complained. ‘He looks like a character from a video game. How can you identify someone from that?’
He studied the picture more carefully. It was the blurred face of an old man with staring alien eyes and abnormally large teeth. This wasn’t Bryant’s murderer. May was sure that the man seen loitering outside his flat had also stolen his partner’s dental records. The infuriating part of it was, May knew his identity. But they had met only once, and had not seen each other in over sixty years. You could study the face of an old man and find no vestiges of his youth. DuCaine’s e-fit bore no resemblance to that wartime killer. Time wrought great changes. How would he ever recognize such a person now?