Part 20 (2/2)

Arthur, where did they get their name? You must know all about the myths surrounding Theseus.'

'I can remember bits and pieces,' said Bryant. 'He was a founding hero of Greece, a great reformer. There was something about him recovering his father's sword and sandals from beneath a gigantic rock. He slew the Minotaur with the help of Ariadne's thread. He even survived a trip to Hades. I think the key part here is his trip through the labyrinth to locate the Minotaur. It's a.n.a.logous to the process of scientific discovery. But I don't think we can piece much more together from a few incomplete sc.r.a.ps of information.'

'We need to figure out where to look for Jackie Quinten,' said Meera.'Do you think she could be inside their building?'

'Is there still nothing on the police reports about her?'

'Her description has been issued,' said May, 'but I don't know how we'll find out what's going on froma”forgive me, Arthura”a converted toothbrush factory in Chalk Farm. I do wish you'd kept your old Battersea flat with Alma.'

'There are still a few people who owe me favours in the Met,' said Renfield. 'I can call around.'

At a little before seven P.M. the clouds above the house split and rain thundered down the banks of the garden, beneath the back door. The hall quickly became flooded, and rivulets trick-led as far as the lounge. By this time, the unit's staff were sprawled out on armchairs and sofas throughout the building, like fractious members of a house party trapped indoors by the weather.

All those times Jackie spoke to you,' said May in some exasperation.'You've even been to her house. Don't you remember her telling you anything about herself?'

'I wasn't really listening,' Bryant admitted. 'You know what I'm like.'

'I suppose you were mult.i.tasking.'

'No, I was just thinking of something else.'

'Now's the time to use the memory-training techniques Mrs Mandeville taught you.'

Bryant thought long and hard. 'It's no good,' he said finally. 'I need to smoke a pipe.'

All the windows are closed,' said Meera. 'Do you have to?'

'It always helped Sherlock Holmes.'

'He was a fictional character.'

Bryant decided to light up anyway, and produced some matches. He squinted at the yellow label on the box, then donned his reading gla.s.ses. 'I say, has anyone noticed this?' He held up the matchbox, studying the logo in amazement. 'That's us. ”Bryant and Maya”England's Glory.” I don't know why I never thought of that before.'

After three pipes the room was filled with fragrant smoke. 'Can we open a window now?' asked Meera. 'It smells like burning tulips.' She didn't explain to anyone how she knew.

'Can you really remember nothing you discussed with her?' asked May.

'All I'm sure of is that Jackie didn't know about the deaths when I b.u.mped into her at the Yorks.h.i.+re Grey,' said Bryant, thinking the matter through. 'And the time I saw her before that, we talked mainly about the first law of behavioural genetics; I have no idea why. We discussed map-making, too. She runs the local history society. Told me a lot about London's geography.'

'She might not have been meeting anyone,' said Longbright. 'She might simply have become frightened and gone away until everything has blown over.'

'No, she was definitely seeing a friend; she told me so her-self.'

Everyone looked dumbfounded. 'What do you mean?' asked May.

'When I saw her in the pub she said something about going out on Sat.u.r.day to meet one of her gentleman academics.' It was typical of Bryant to leave out a piece of information anyone else would have felt compelled to pa.s.s on, but in this case he had only just remembered.

'You might have told us earlier,' said Longbright. 'You don't suppose she killed them, do you? And somehow blamed Pellew?'

'That makes no sense at all,' May told her.

'The DNA matches were perfect on both blood and sweat,' Kershaw reminded them, 'and the thumbprint matched Pellew's. We know it was him. Quod erat demonstrandum.'

'But he was the symptom, not the cause,' Bryant insisted. 'The most dangerous element in this case was not Pellew at all, but the person who impelled his actions. I don't think we have a way of dealing with the matter now. We're simply not equipped.'

He needed to give the others some air. Clambering up and heading for the back door, he stepped outside, breathing deeply, standing beneath the eaves as rain fell in sheets before him.

Pellew and Quinten, he thought. There's really no connection between them. How could there be? Did Pellew really go to the Exmouth Arms, just to leave behind the clue in the photograph? He had never come across a case remotely like this. Nothing hung together, none of it was linked. Anthony Pellew. A research laboratory. A clinic for mental disorders. Fivea”no, sevena”lonely, maternal women. The Ministry of Defence. If only my memorya”

And then he remembered, something small, no more than a single sentence. Thank G.o.d for Mrs Mandeville, he thought. I take it all back, your system works!

He shot back to the lounge much lighter in his step.

Arthur, we've been talking this round in circles,' said Longbright, 'and we're convinced that you must be able to remember something more about Jackie Quinten. Do you have any idea who it was she went to see?'

'Oh, I think I know now, I just don't understand why, or what her connection is with him.'

'Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Arthur, spit it out!' cried May finally.

Bryant widened his eyes. 'She went to find Dr Harold Masters.'

'Wait a minute, your old friend Masters, the lecturer, the one I met in that odd little tavern?'

'I'm afraid so. Anyone will tell you that academics have a tendency toward sociopathic behaviour, and I think my old friend has finally overstepped the line.'

'I don't understand,' May admitted. 'What has Masters got to do with Jackie Quinten?'

'That I'm not sure of yet. But I think he's got a lot to do with this,' Bryant told the others, dragging on his overcoat. 'And I can guess where to find Mrs Quinten. There's no time to waste. I've known Harold for years, if only in a sort of distant way, but I'm familiar with his habits. He's likely to be in one of three places. Colin and Meera, I need you to go to his house in Spitalfields. John and I will try the pub he told us he frequents. Janice, I'd like you and Sergeant Renfield to head for his office at the British Museum. And be careful. By now he may well be ready to kill in order to protect his secret.'

41.

THE PATH OF HOPE.

H.

e told me himself where he spends his evenings.' Bryant hurried his partner through the fine soaking rain toward the car. 'He's a creature of habit, and he doesn't know we're looking for him.'

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