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‘Yes,’ he said decisively. ‘Yes, I do. And since he is part of the whole plan and could be charged with it as well, he will care very much.’
Scuff frowned. ‘Yer said yer asked him already.’
‘He says he doesn’t know where they are, but I’ll take him back over every step of their lives, every place they’ve ever lived, visited or known anyone.’
‘Yer did that before . . .’
‘Either he knows where they are, or if he doesn’t then he’ll be as worried as we are, even if for different reasons. If he hasn’t heard from Hamilton he’ll be terrified by now. His own reputation rests on it, too. I need to remind him of that.’
‘Squeaky’d help,’ Scuff said eagerly. ‘’E can clean up real good! Look like a lawyer, an’ all! And ’e can write papers wot looks real.’
‘Yes . . .’
‘And—’ Scuff started again.
Monk smiled: suddenly it was less difficult. ‘I will. I’ll go to the clinic tomorrow morning and see Squeaky.’
Scuff smiled back, a little shyly. ‘You better be careful. If yer use dodgy paper on anyone, like wot’s bin made by someone like Squeaky, yer can get inter awful trouble. The p’lice’ll get yer . . .’
‘I know.’
‘Specially you,’ Scuff was not going to be stopped. ‘The River P’lice thinks yer flamin’ walk on water, but the reg’lar p’lice don’t like yer much.’
‘I know that too,’ Monk agreed. ‘I’ll be careful. Now I’ll clear
up the kitchen, and you go and do your homework.’
Scuff had wisely kept very quiet on the entire subject of homework – indeed, school altogether – and Monk, this once, did not ask.
Monk went to the clinic in Portpool Lane early the next morning. As always, it was busy whatever the hour. He had barely got past the entrance hall when Claudine appeared. For an instant so short it could even have been an illusion, there was hope in her face. Then she knew from Monk’s eyes and from the way he stood, the tension in him, that there was no news.
She came forward, trying desperately to look as if everything were normal.
He saved her from having to think of something to say by speaking first.
‘I’ve got a further idea about searching for them, but I’d like to speak to Squeaky first.’
She relaxed a fraction, with just an easing of her shoulders. She looked him up and down. ‘He’s in his office. I’ll send you in a pot of tea. How about some cake as well? You don’t look as if you had breakfast yet.’ She nodded and turned away without waiting for his answer. She was not going to accept a refusal anyway.
‘Thank you,’ he said with a faint smile. He did not need taking to Squeaky’s office. He had been there countless times before, and he knew that Squeaky lived on the premises.
He knocked on the office door sharply, and then opened it. He caught Squeaky unaware. At any other time it would have raised his always-volatile temper. Now it caught his vulnerability. He looked up from his writing, angry. Then when he recognised Monk, there was that same instant of hope as had been in Claudine’s face. The second it was gone it was overtaken with rage, because he would not let anyone else see his disappointment.
‘What do you want?’ he snapped. ‘You think I haven’t got enough to do?’
Monk wanted to shout at him, even to swear so violently it would ease his own suffocating emotions. But far more important than relieving any anger of his own, he wanted Squeaky’s help.
‘Help,’ Monk answered. ‘Perhaps you could recommend a good forger, if I need one. Good, discreet and cheap. And one who will work for me, in spite of the fact that I am police.’
Squeaky’s face went through a range of incredulity, fury, outraged pride, and ended with hope.
‘You got something particular in mind?’ he asked.
‘Not yet,’ Monk admitted. ‘But I am going back to see Magnus Rand again, and this time I am not going to be asking for help. I intend to make it very clear to him that his brother will be charged with kidnap and murder if any of his prisoners die before we rescue them. It would ruin Magnus’s professional reputation. I think that might matter to him very much indeed.’
‘About bleedin’ time!’ Squeaky said fiercely. ‘What d’you want from me? I can do it all, and you bleedin’ know that! How about a really nice, short and savage newspaper draft showing what would happen to him, eh? “Today disgraced doctor, Hamilton Rand, was hanged at Newgate for his hideous murder of innocent children, who he bled to death in his terrible experiments”.’ He looked at Monk with his eyebrows raised. ‘Should make him think again.’
Monk noticed that Squeaky would not say the words that Rand killed Hester, even to emphasise his point. Monk did not say anything. He would have done the same.
