Part 28 (1/2)
”OK, but we make an early start,” said Josh. ”Or at least I do. Richard might sleep until noon, but he might have to clear out from where he's hiding before people start work.”
”Is the car charged yet?”
”Not quite.”
”Take me home, so I can sleep in my own bed. Since I haven't been home for two nights.”
”You're wearing different clothes,” he said.”Very observant, for a man. Pardon the stereotyping. My clothes are different because I went shopping.”
”Speaking of gender stereotyping...”
”Uh-uh. I own four pairs of shoes and two handbags, no more.”
”Whereas I made a whole career of firing big guns. I mean really ma.s.sive.”
”In order to make up for...?”
”Oh, that. Well” Josh held thumb and forefinger a centimetre apart ”we are talking tiny in other departments. Minuscule.”
Suzanne was laughing.
”You are a bad man, Josh c.u.mberland. Take me home.”
[ NINETEEN ].
At 5.30 am Josh was out running, past Earl's Court and through the Gothic cemetery, making a long loop back to his hotel, a white-painted cheapish place he had used before. There was parking for guests, and he thought he might leave his car here today. Back in his room, he showered fast, drank protein shake, and left ten minutes later. Soon he was riding a bus to Vauxhall, sipping from a take-away cappuccino. A few minutes before eight, he walked past the first place where Richard Broomhall had pa.s.sed through surveillance. Which way would the lad have gone?
Up ahead, a group of grimy-looking individuals stood with cardboard cups and rough-cut sandwiches in hand. They were on a gravel lot in front of a dilapidated concrete cabin, some small business long gone to ruin. Several volunteers were setting out plastic chairs. One was a thickset, square-jawed woman with short grey hair. She looked capable.
Josh called up his clearest image of Richard Broomhall, and held out his phone as he advanced.
”My name's Josh. And this is Richard, in the picture.”
”We don't talk to the authorities, didn't they tell you?” The grey-haired woman continued unstacking chairs. ”Not about individuals.”
”Sure.” Josh picked up a chair one-handed and set it down. ”I'm not exactly official, just helping the family. The kid could be in trouble.”
”They all are. So what kind was he in before? What did he run away from?”
”I... don't know. Not completely.”
”So why would you drag him back there?”
”Look, the streets are hardly safe. He comes from a well-off home, good school.”
”And your point is?”
”s.h.i.+t.” Josh looked at his phone. The kid was four years older than Sophie. ”If it was my daughter, I'd tear the city apart to find her.”
”So what's the boy's father doing right now?”
Josh blinked. This was his week for being off-balanced by strong, knowledgeable women. ”Counting his money, I should think.”
At this, the woman gave a snort and a half-laugh. ”Show me the picture again.”
”Here.”
”Couple of days back, he came around. I gave him a sweats.h.i.+rt.”
”A green sweats.h.i.+rt?”
”Actually, yes. Why?”
”It's all right, nothing's happened. Someone spotted a kid wearing green, might have been Richard.” He did not want to discuss hacking into surveillance data. ”You don't know where he's hanging around?” he went on.
”No, I don't.”
”s.h.i.+t.”
”Look... they disappear,” said the woman. ”Runaways, they always stop showing up, sooner or later. But recently, it seems to have hit the young ones more, you know?”
”Is this something the police are aware of?”
”Not so you'd notice, officially. But some of the officers who work the streets are good people, including my partner. They know, for all the good it's done.”
”Does your partner work locally?”
”Sometimes, but not as a rule. You wanted to give me a copy of that picture, is that it?”
”If you think it would do good,” he said. ”Unofficially.”
”Meaning you don't want it on the system.”
”That might cause questions for your partner.”
”My partner is honest and good at the job.”
”I'm sure she is,” said Josh. ”I'm on Richard's side. There's nothing dodgy in that.”