Page 39 of The Killer’s Mark

The only seats available on the next train to Carlisle were in first class. Poe paid the extra money. It meant they could access the first-class lounge at Euston while they waited. He grabbed some snacks. Pretzels and a ploughman’s and some decent coffee for him, an apple and a plate of fruit for Bradshaw. By the time he’d joined her, she was already viewing the contents of Knight’s computer. She was using an MI5 privacy screen, a piece of equipment that significantly reduced the viewing angle. It meant anyone not looking at her laptop head-on would only see black.

‘Anything?’ he said, stuffing a lump of Cheddar in his mouth. He grimaced. Train-station cheese was not nice cheese. It was sweaty and had hard edges. He thought about eating an olive to take away the taste, but decided that bad cheese was better than a good olive. He took a swig of coffee instead.

‘I’ve already found it, Poe. The video with Esmerée’s mother anyway. The full video. It includes them getting ready and getting cleaned up afterwards. The start and finish were edited out of the one that was uploaded.’

‘And?’

‘It seems Chance Ryzcek was right. Esmerée’s mother never removes her mask.’

‘And the tattoos? Are there any clearer images? Maybe if there are, we can confirm with Esmerée that this woman is her mother.’

‘Nothing yet, Poe, and I haven’t found the lighting photographs Mr Ryzcek mentioned. I did find the performer release forms, though.’

‘And?’

‘The name she gave wasn’t Océane Blue. But if it is her, she’s hardly likely to use her own name. Not if the FBI are looking for her.’

Poe checked the time on the departures screen. ‘We have thirty minutes before the platform will be announced. I’m not eating any more of that manky cheese. It tastes like it was harvested from underneath Bugger Rumble’s toenails.’

Bradshaw gagged.

‘I’ll get us some proper food while you keep looking.’

Poe left the first-class lounge/third-rate cheese vendor and made his way to the concourse. He reluctantly ignored the pop-up shop selling gigantic Cornish pasties and instead joined the queue at Leon. Their slogan – ‘Food that tastes good and does you good’ – seemed promising. He should be able to get Bradshaw something. And if there was nothing he fancied, he’d go back and get a Cornish pasty the size of his head. Maybe two.

Leon came up trumps, though. He ordered a black bean rice pot for Bradshaw and peanut satay chicken for himself.

‘Yours is a vegan dish, apparently,’ he said when he returned. ‘I checked.’

But instead of picking up the wooden fork that came with her meal, Bradshaw spun her laptop round. He had to bend down and face it head-on, as the privacy screen was still attached. He looked at what Bradshaw wanted him to see.

‘Blimey, that is a tattoo,’ he said.

Chapter 30

Bradshaw had found the lighting shots Chance Ryzcek had mentioned. They were superb quality. Crystal clear. Unsurprising, given that Toby Knight had qualifications in photography. Whereas the stills from the video had been blurred and out of focus, two of the nine photographs Knight had taken had captured the sole of the woman’s foot. She was on her hands and knees with Ryzcek kneeling behind her. They weren’t touching each other. Knight had been testing the light prior to them performing. Where the shadows were, where he would need light reflectors.

The photographs that had captured the woman’s foot tattoo were in full colour and incredibly sharp. Bradshaw was able to zoom in without losing any definition. The tattoo was monochrome. A thousand shades of blue. It was a face. A woman’s face. It was no one Poe recognised. The portrait – because although it was a tattoo, that was what it was – was incredibly detailed. The tattooist had managed to make the woman appear enigmatic. Beautiful, but enigmatic. She was smiling, only a slight tilt of the lips, but enough for you to know she was in on the joke and you weren’t. Poe had seen the Mona Lisa on a school trip to France, and the woman’s smile reminded him of that. He realised he’d just compared the smile on a porn star’s tattoo to a smile painted by Leonardo da Vinci, and decided he didn’t care. The comparison fitted. Poe didn’t know much about tattoos and he didn’t know much about portrait art, but he knew he was looking at something special.

‘This is incredible, Tilly,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen anything quite like it.’

‘I agree, Poe. I’ll pixelate the rude bits and send the photographs to Estelle. She can show Esmerée. Then we’ll know for sure if the woman is her mother.’

Poe nodded. ‘And if you send me the unpixelated pictures, I’ll send them to Mark Buckby. He seems to know everyone in the porn world. Maybe one of his contacts can bring us a step closer. Did any of the photographs catch her shoulder tattoo?’

Bradshaw shook her head. ‘Just the one on her foot. Her hair covers her shoulder most of the time.’

Two minutes after Bradshaw had sent the photographs to Estelle in Northumberland, and Poe had sent them to Mark Buckby in Elephant and Castle, their platform was announced. Poe and Bradshaw waited for the stampede to subside, then made their way to first class. As soon as they were seated, an Avanti man put down a cutlery pack and handed them the menu.

Poe, who was still eating his satay chicken, said, ‘The cheese and ham toastie, please.’

Chapter 31

The second phone call came thirty minutes after the first. The first had been Estelle saying that Esmerée had identified her mother by the tattoo. Poe didn’t ask if she was sure. He doubted there was another tattoo like it. He said he was due in to Carlisle in three hours. With any luck, he’d be home in four.

The second call was from Mark Buckby. He wasn’t happy.

‘You still in London, Mr Poe?’