‘These two guys couldn’t even agree on how he was dressed,’ warned DuCaine. ‘They’d been smoking a bit, and when I say a bit, I mean a lot.’
‘This looks more like Arthur than our mad bomber. So much for technology. Did nobody see him turn up at the unit?’
‘If they did, they haven’t come forward.’
‘What about the CCTV cameras?’ asked Longbright.
‘Nothing on that side of the road. We’ve got a shot from a supermarket camera further along the pavement, someone standing outside the entrance. Trouble is, the time lapse on the footage lets him simply disappear. All we’ve got is a distant figure in a grey coat.’
‘You couldn’t tell if he was carrying anything?’
‘Not from the back. Nothing identifiable at all. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s all right,’ sighed May, running his hands through his white hair. ‘We weren’t expecting a breakthrough. I’m told they want to use you here for a few days.’
‘Yeah, I was going to ask you about that. I mean, the unit’s got nowhere to work from, and they’ve got all this shit going on. Kids running around, taking each other out with activated replicas.’ DuCaine felt guilty, but he was too valuable a resource to waste. His restless energy needed to be applied, and May wasn’t about to hold him back.
‘Someone around here is bringing Ingram Model Ten sub-machine guns in from the U.S. and converting them into working firearms. It’s the accessory of choice for would-be gangsta rappers. I’ve got some contacts, I can help—’
‘There’s no need to explain,’ interrupted May. ‘Do what you have to do. Longbright and I will figure this out.’
‘Well, what do we do now?’ asked Longbright as they walked towards the tube station.
‘Something I should have done earlier,’ May replied. ‘I have to start thinking like Arthur. If he could do it, track down someone after six long decades, why can’t I?’
‘How do you propose to do that?’ How much weight he’s lost, she thought. This could be the last thing he ever does.
May thought for a minute. ‘When I first met Arthur, he’d already suffered a tragedy. I didn’t know it at the time, of course. It was your mother who told me what had happened. Later I realized it was what made him look beyond rational explanations. It drove him to solicit the advice of outsiders. In a way, it was what made him the man he became. It locked him out of the normal world.’
‘You make it sound almost like a good thing,’ said Longbright, stopping.
‘Sometimes it almost was.’ May gave a rueful smile. ‘It could also be disastrous. That’s why he needed me. To balance him.’ He gave the detective sergeant a gentle pat on the elbow. ‘I’ve been too sensible for too many years. It’s time I learned the lesson he was always trying to teach me. Come on.’
45
IN THE DEVIL’S COMPANY
The audience was resplendent in evening dress, but most members were carrying gas-mask boxes. They were as Helena Parole had predicted, culturally more diverse, livelier and younger than the lethargic Home Counties brigade who usually attended operettas—perhaps reflecting that this was not in any sense a classical production. Eurydice’s opening striptease and virtually naked seduction by an outrageously priapic Aristaeus saw to that.
The single intermission occurred between the second and third tableaux, and listening to the exhilarated hubbub in the building’s bars, Bryant judged the production to be a hit—more, a sensation. The crowd made him feel claustrophobic. He descended the grand staircase and wandered out into the lobby. The bow tie he had donned for the occasion was strangling him. Few playgoers had ventured down here because the night was so cold. He nodded to PCs Atherton and Crowhurst, who were meant to be acting as security on the entrance but found themselves holding back a ragged line of irate demonstrators. Rain was falling hard from dark, low clouds, and that meant a cloak of safety for the theatre.
‘We’re going to need more men if this goes on every night, sir,’ warned Crowhurst.
‘They’ve got their own security people coming in on Monday.’ Bryant studied the placards pinned to the steel barriers. BAN THIS PAGAN SHOW NOW. THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER GOD BUT ME. And more peculiarly, LESS LUST THROUGH LESS MEAT AND SITTING. This makeshift placard was displayed by a soaked young man in a corduroy cap who looked as though he would rather be somewhere else, preferably in a pub.
A mobile anti-aircraft gun had been placed on the opposite corner for the last two days, but now this reminder of danger from the skies had been moved away to higher ground. The theatre had been banned from spotlighting its exterior, and was forced to content itself with displaying a large OPENING TONIGHT! banner.