‘Checking our online security. This bloody weather has smashed up two of my cameras outside. Although I doubt I can do anything if the world’s top intelligence agencies want to know our whereabouts.’
‘There was another story about this kind of thing recently,’ says Elle. ‘I feel like it was … on TV. When did we last watch TV?’
Em and I think. Jonny keeps typing.
‘I haven’t seen any TV since the moment we discovered who Davy was,’ I say. ‘It was on the news, remember? At the other Balfour Villas place.’
‘Yes. That’s it. And there was something else …’ Elle gets her phone out. ‘Some other news story that day. It was after the report about Davy.’ She types, frowns, narrows the dates down, then, as Em and I look at each other, she quietly says, ‘Bingo.’
‘What?’
She holds out her phone. ‘The other story was about an Iranian spy ring being busted on the south coast. Remember?’
‘So what?’
‘Do you have Lulu Harcourt’s number?’
‘I’ve got it,’ says Em. ‘Are you saying there’s a link between Davy and that story?’
‘Maybe. Wasn’t Lulu’s first story, the one before she told you about her dad, about an Iranian guy?’
‘Oh, shit. Her ex-boyfriend. The one who took photos of her asleep. What was his name?’
‘Faisal,’ I say.
‘Exactly. Jonny, where are you going?’
‘Installing two new cameras outside,’ he says, waving some kit. ‘Won’t be a moment.’
‘Be careful, please.’ As Jonny lumbers into the hall, Em continues. ‘Where was I?
‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘You’re saying Faisal went out with Lulu and took those threatening pictures not because he was a creep but to send a message to Davy?’
‘Maybe. Davy’s doing these deals, setting up dark police stations all over the country. He does a deal for the Iranians. It goes wrong somehow and they’re at risk of exposure. The Iranians hold him responsible – maybe he screwed up. They go to him and say they want new premises pronto. He refuses. But they’ve got his daughter as leverage and they start gathering photos to send as a threat. Only it doesn’t work, because Lulu gets in the way and their operation gets busted. But Davy makes the connection, and he’s so freaked out by the threat to Lulu that he makes an appointment with the police. He wants to confess everything, get some witness protection for his immediate family, get out.’
‘That could be what he argued with Rob Wallace about.’
‘Or Rob Wallace found out about the appointment with the police, was worried he was going to confess everything and tank the business, and offed him. Either way, that’s how it goes.’
‘It’s a nice theory, if the timings stack up,’ I say. I’m struggling a bit. Considering one government’s overseas espionage operations was a bit much for one day. Two is overload.
‘I really think we should give Claudia a call,’ says Elle. ‘This is exactly her line.’
‘No,’ says Em. ‘How many times do I have to say it? We are not begging for her help.’
‘It’s not begging, it’s—’
‘Just stop it, Elle. She can find out about all this afterwards, when we’re vindicated and the whole thing has been dealt with without her stupid help.’
‘You’re being petty.’
‘You’re being sentimental. You don’t remember what it was like growing up with her,’ says Em.
They scowl at each other, and a cold wind blows through the gymema.
‘Jonny must have left the front door open,’ I say. ‘I’ll just pop and shut it.’
I head out, leaving them to their argument: through the main living room, the subsidiary study, and into the large Romanesque hall, with its embarrassing squillionaire’s chandelier thirty feet above and its unforgiving marble tiles beneath. The door has indeed been left open, although that’s not the main thing I focus on as I pull up. Here’s what draws my focus instead:
