Page 133 of The Killer’s Mark

‘I can.’

‘Then I think it’s fucking brilliant.’

‘Do it, Tilly,’ Poe said immediately.

‘I’ll need some help,’ Bradshaw replied. ‘I won’t know the right words to say.’

Poe didn’t hesitate. ‘Estelle will. And I think she’s in the perfect frame of mind.’

‘I’ll talk to her as soon as I hang up. We’ll have something ready by the time you get back.’

‘And you’re OK doing this, Tilly?’

‘I am, Poe. I want to get Esmerée back just as much as you and Estelle. I believe this gives us the best chance of long-term success.’

And possibly World War III, Poe thought but didn’t say. ‘Why haven’t you told me about this before?’

‘Because it’s exceptionally controlled intelligence. Even Matthew doesn’t have a high enough level of clearance, and his clearance is high. Alastor Locke doesn’t even know it exists, although it was something he asked for that necessitated its design. I keep telling him the thing he wants isn’t ready. I don’t think his intentions are pure.’

‘You lied to him?’

‘I don’t tell lies, Poe. I told him it wasn’t ready to be applied in the field yet. But that was because the person who decides it’s ready to be applied in the field is me. Therefore, it will never be ready for him to use as I will never say it is ready. Do you understand, Poe?’

‘It’s not a difficult concept to follow, Tilly. It’s like when you tell me you didn’t see any Cumberland sausage at the butchers. It’s not that they don’t have any; it’s that you deliberately don’t look where you know it is. I got wise to that little trick ages ago. Is there anything we can do now?’

Bradshaw said anything that Océane had stolen from Vincent du Buk would be useful. She would get everything else she needed from the FBI and NCA servers.

Poe asked Océane for the brown leather conference folder she was holding across her chest. He photographed everything and emailed it to Bradshaw. While he waited for her to acknowledge receipt, he stole a glance at Océane. He couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind right now. She’d been keeping her head down – figuratively and literally – hiding from the Red Chamber, from the authorities, but despite doing everything right, two men had arrived in the small hours regardless. Turned her life upside down again.

Poe was dishevelled and exhausted and Towler’s five o’clock shadow would have shamed Fred Flintstone. Towler was glaring at Océane in the rear-view mirror like everything was her fault. And although part of it was – Océane had abandoned her daughter, she had set Esmerée on her quest, she had sucked Towler into her gravity well – the real blame lay with the Red Chamber. They were the monsters. They were killing women. Skinning them. And Towler knew this. Poe thought his friend was probably building up his anger. Keeping it bottled, ready to use when it mattered. The Red Chamber weren’t planning to hand over Esmerée willingly. They wanted to have their cake and eat it, an idiom Bradshaw hated. She said it made no sense and that a grammatically correct version would be ‘You can’t eat your cake and still have it.’ Not that Bradshaw ate cake. It wasn’t vegan-friendly. At least the cakes Poe bought weren’t. He judged the quality of a cake by the ratio of raspberry jam and cream to sponge.

Poe’s phone chirped. GOT THEM, Bradshaw’s text message said.

When they were out of East Sussex and on more reliable roads, Poe started digging into how Océane had come to be a concubine and, more importantly, how she’d found out the true nature of the Red Chamber’s business. The first part was in line with what they’d gathered from Xiang and Chao at the Szechuan Palace, and the tattooist Kai Jin. She had been recruited because of her extraordinary beauty, her sexuality, and the fact she was still a virgin. Océane said her stepfather had put her off sex for life. And the reason she’d been open to recruitment was exactly as Kai had said – her love for bees and beekeeping and a yearning to live on a farm in the South Downs. Poe understood that last bit. He empathised with her. A few years earlier, when he’d been vilified by the press after a mistake he’d made left a suspect dead, he’d sold everything he had and hunkered down in an old shepherd’s cottage on Shap Fell, the most isolated part of the most isolated county in the country. Shap Fell was so isolated even the badgers asked for directions. Poe understood Océane’s dream.

What he didn’t understand was how she could abandon her daughter when her own mother had abandoned her. Why she actively disliked her. Why she’d called Esmerée a ‘little bitch’ and said she’d ‘ruined everything’. He decided not to ask about that just yet. He thought it might shut her down. Instead, he said, ‘How did you find out about the Red Chamber’s intentions? Their true intentions.’

‘By accident,’ she replied. ‘I’d just had my annual portfolio meeting. The guys were good about that. They showed me where they’d made investments on my behalf. Asked if there were any areas I might be interested in. That kind of thing. All bullshit, of course. They probably showed the same set of accounts to every girl. I asked Vincent for his input. He worked on Wall Street and knew how money worked. But instead of offering advice, he sort of dismissed it. Later that night we had a row about it. He was drunk on baijiu and said something he shouldn’t have.’

‘I don’t know what baijiu is.’

Towler said, ‘It’s a clear grain alcohol, Poe. Strong as fuck. I only had it the once but that was enough. Pissed the bed and woke up to find some bloke licking my feet.’

‘You had quite the youth, Matt,’ Poe said.

‘It was last year.’

‘Baijiu has been China’s national drink for five millennia,’ Océane said. ‘The Red Chamber always bought Vincent a bottle. I don’t know if it was because everyone got one, or because Vincent was helpful regarding their investments. He didn’t always keep the best company.’

‘So we gather.’

‘Anyway, he was very drunk, and when I shouted that he should help me with my money, he let it slip that there was no point. That I wasn’t getting a penny of it. Vincent was a blackout drunk, so in the morning, he didn’t remember any of it. But I did.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘Not long into my contract.’

‘You stayed with him?’