Page 83 of Slack Tide Kill

Sally leaned back, looking at Bledd with new eyes. He was incensed. "You're sure it was them?"

"Nobody else I know on the marsh would camp out like that. Dropping crap everywhere."

Sally felt the weight of that tick over in her head. The Rooks had been right there. They'd missed them, maybe just by hours, and another unwelcome thought rose up.

Was Liam right? Had Spate called Roarke to warn him?

"Have we got them?" Liam called from the bank.

"They're gone," Sally answered, mind racing. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the notes she'd made back at the museum, holding them out to Bledd.

"What's this?"

"Edwin Pike's idea of possible Rook hideouts. The Rooks romanticized the Owlers, and these are all old smuggler hideouts." She tapped the paper. "The Black Gutter's on there, which locks it. If we work down this list, we might find them."

Bledd took the paper and traced a finger down her notes. "OK. So, Giggers' Green Road? Nice idea, Ed, but it's completely backed up right now. Felled ash tree got tangled and silted, so it's overflowing. Nobody's hiding out there."

He slid his finger further.

"St. Thomas Beckett's a good one. Pike's right about the tourists, but you can't see Puddledock sewer from there. Added bonus, it's a wide enough channel to take a marsh boat. Plus there's the hay croft. And these others?" He tapped the paper. "Daleacres is a possibility. He probably means the Longleaf plant nursery, right in the middle. Big warehouse, got busted a few years back as a marijuana grow site." He looked up. "Wouldn't be surprised if the Rooks are connected to that."

"And the last one?"

"Greatstone?" Bledd sucked air through his teeth. "It'd be a bold move, or a desperate one. Sandwiched between the village and Lydd Airport. It's not exactly overlooked, just tight, but the whole zone's the bird preserve. That means fences. No obstacle to men on foot, but it would be to a boat. It's also a bit of a tourist attraction, with the sound mirrors, though you can't get all that close."

"Sound mirrors?"

"Great curving blocks of concrete, like old-school satellite dishes? The precursor to radar. They call them the Listening Ears."

Another reference to the past. Sally recognized it from the podcast, and felt she was drowning in it. "World War 2?"

"Right. More Pike's domain than mine." He handed back the piece of paper. "I can add a couple of places to this list. They may not be Owler sites, but they'd appeal to the Rooks." He checked his watch. "Should be 40 minutes left on the drone's battery, give or take. Long enough to overfly all the ones nearby." He thought for a moment. "You've got a car?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Houseboat's too slow. If we don't get lucky on this side, we can meet the drone on the other side then hit Greatstone in person."

Sally studied him. There was a change in him now. Pike had said as much, that he was mercurial. "I thought we only had an hour? You had your Rotary club dinner?"

"That was until we saw that campsite. Rooks have always been a blight on the landscape, and I won't abide it. I once saw Reginald Rook fly-tip a vanload of absolute shit." He shook his head, disgusted even now. "I went after him, of course."

That took a moment to register. "You went after Reg Rook?"

"Of course. He may have been a big man back then, but I won't stand for defiling the marsh. It can't defend itself, can it? So I punched his lights out, walked him back to the trash pile and had him pick it all up. Then I escorted him to the tip in New Romney and made sure he junked it all properly, including the fees."

Sally laughed despite herself. "And he never came back at you for it?"

"He tried once or twice. I'm a tough bastard, though, Officer Rogers."

Sally was surprised he remembered her name. "I'm getting that. OK, Mr. Bledd. Let's get to my car."

They climbed the bank and set off. Liam fell in beside Sally while Bledd ranged off ahead, the drone case still open as he continued to steer.

"He's crazy, right?" Liam asked.

"Maybe the good kind. Said he punched Reg Rook's lights out over some fly-tipping, back in the day."

Liam's jaw dropped slightly. "Damn. He really loves the marsh, huh?"