Page 115 of The Killer’s Mark

The person slipped out of the RAOB’s doorway, head down, and walked the forty yards or so to Cowie House. It was locked, but that was OK. It was an old door, and the lock was unsophisticated. No match for a locksmith’s destructive entry tool. They opened the door, stepped inside and closed it again. Put the deadbolt on. A quick check of the wall chart to confirm which floor the tattooist was on. Indica Ink. Second floor. The one underneath Poe.

Behind the COVID mask, the person smiled in satisfaction. Not happy; relieved. This whole thing had been a balls-up from start to finish, and the sooner it was sorted the better. With a bit of luck, the murdering bitch would soon be dead. The girl too, unfortunately.

It was a shame for Poe. He was all right. A bit grumpy, a lot sarky, but a decent man nonetheless.

But … business was business.

Poe heard the front door lock shattering. He winced. Thought about what Monica Costelloe would say in the morning. Nothing nice, he imagined. He had thought about leaving it unlocked, but that might have been one red flag too many. The person creeping up the stairs was careful. They had to be. Bradshaw had checked, and it seemed like they’d been wearing two skins for almost fifteen years. That was a lot of time to be in the pocket of organised criminals. Bent cops were the juicy fruits offered by crooks facing fifteen years. It was how most were caught. They were despised by the criminal fraternity. Giving up their names wasn’t seen as snitching. No one was getting stitches. Bent cops were expendable. Disposable assets.

But this bent cop had stayed under everyone’s radar. Which meant one of two things – either no one in the Red Chamber knew their identity, or, more likely, they were so useful to the organisation they were afforded special protections.

They were almost on the second floor. They were climbing the stairs stealthily, but Cowie House was quieter than a Chinese tea ceremony. The walls were thick. They didn’t just keep out the sun and the warmth, they kept out the street noise. The only thing Poe could hear was his own breathing and the treacherous bastard who was now walking along the second-floor corridor.

Poe had left the door to Indica’s office unlocked. Hadn’t made sense to wreck that one too. The person on the other side was committed. They weren’t going to chicken out now. The door opened. The intruder slipped inside. Closed the door behind them. Poe heard them breathe a sigh of relief.

He switched on the light.

Susan Hawksworth blinked

Poe did jazz hands. ‘Surprise.’

Chapter 93

‘Jesus, Poe!’ Susan said. ‘You scared the hell out of me. What on earth are you doing sitting in the dark?’

‘Waiting.’

‘Waiting? Waiting for who?’

‘For you.’

‘Why would you be waiting for me?’

Poe sighed. ‘We’re really doing this, are we?’

‘Doing what?’ she said, looking around Indica’s studio.

‘I’ll save you the time,’ Poe said. ‘There is no address underneath the yucca tree. If you take off that stupid mask, you’ll see there isn’t a yucca tree.’

‘You’re not making any sense, Poe. I’m here on official NCA business.’

‘Of course you are.’

‘I’m not required to explain operational decisions to a civilian, but in this case I’ll make an exception. I get alerts on the investigation and I saw your stupid plan to leave the address of a material witness in an unsecured location. I am merely taking steps to address this potentially catastrophic lapse in your judgement.’

‘And the mask?’

She took it off. ‘I have hay fever.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Poe said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Do you want to know how I knew it would be you stepping through the door?’

‘You didn’t know shit, Poe.’

‘It was when you guys raided my office after you overheard me say I was about to delete Dongyang Dong’s email. Do you remember what you asked me?’