be off.’
‘Including that detective sergeant, the one who looks like Diana Dors?’
‘Janice? Yes.’
‘Tell me, has she discovered yet that she has the Gift?’
‘She hasn’t mentioned anything to me.’
‘No, she wouldn’t. Most people never realise until it’s too late. I keep seeing her in connection with Merlin, for some peculiar reason. Well, stay in touch and let me know what happens.’
‘I thought you’d already know, being a witch.’
‘It doesn’t make me clairvoyant, although I have my moments.’ She slapped him playfully. ‘I can’t even read your tea leaves today; I’ve only got bags.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Bryant, ‘if I don’t get a break in this case soon, I can tell exactly what’s going to happen, and it won’t be pleasant.’
32
THE COLLECTOR
The dawn brought heavier rain. The sky was gutter-grey. The downpour seemed to be carrying soot from the sky. Inside the warehouse at 231 Caledonian Road, the staff of the PCU were discovering how badly the roof leaked.
‘Rufus has come up with five names,’ reported April, looking across her desk at Meera. ‘Five major cases that went as far as the courts.’ She moved the papers to avoid getting them soaked, and shifted a plastic bucket into place with a casual flick of her foot.
‘Not bad, considering how many people the ADAPT Group have employed over the years.’ The two women had been going through the details of hundreds of staff members considered an employment risk by the company, but the young hacker had cracked their problem in minutes. It appeared that ADAPT had made plenty of enemies over the years.
‘They’ve usually managed to settle out of court.’
‘See anyone familiar?’
April smiled. ‘Oh, yes. Just one.’ She turned the screen of her laptop to face Meera. ‘Xander Toth. Employed at ADAPT’s corporate headquarters as a researcher four and a half years ago, fired for misappropriation of funds, threatened with court, case dropped, no reason given. Scrubby beard and a body like a pipe cleaner. The picture’s quite old, before he started working out.’
‘Fired four and a half years ago? Long time to nurse a grudge. We have to get into his apartment.’
‘It can wait for the moment,’ said John May, coming in with Banbury. ‘Giles just called. He’s got a new ID on the other body. He’s done his best work. I need everyone on this.’
‘So who is he?’ asked Meera.
‘Adrian Jesson, thirty-four years of age. Giles found an operation scar over his left lung, and checked with the Royal Free Hospital’s chest surgeons. They sent over nearly seventy pre-op photographs, and he matched one up.’
‘Smart man.’
‘Jesson’s an Old Etonian. He has no police record, no driving convictions, no bad debts, no prints on record, clean as a whistle. He was living alone in a run-down flat on Copenhagen Street, working at a Starbucks in Islington, ran a branch of Café Nero before that. No girlfriends to speak of, no friends at all. His family business was declared bankrupt and his father moved to Majorca seven years ago, leaving the family behind. Jesson worked in an Oxfam shop at the weekends and collected for Help the Aged, ran an Alpha Course at the church up the road. No-one has much to say about him, just that he was very shy, got on with his life and minded his own business, always visited his mother in Ealing every Sunday until she died of bowel cancer last year, collected tokens for the local special-needs school, and wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Someone has to go to his current place of employment and interview his boss.’
Longbright slapped a coin onto her wrist. ‘Call it.’
‘Heads gets Starbucks, tails gets his flat,’ said Meera.
Longbright checked the coin. ‘Damn.’
The Starbucks on Upper Street near Highbury Corner was a cluttered chaos of dirty crockery and baby buggies. Long-bright located the harassed manager, and took her to the quiet office at the back of the shop.
The manager sat nervously jiggling her knees and playing with her braids as Longbright asked questions. Her name was Shirelle Marrero, and she had been running the branch for two years. Yes, Adrian Jesson had worked with her for the past year, but there was little she could add to the information about him that Longbright already had. With the unenlightening interview coming to a close, Shirelle rose to leave when a sliver of memory returned to her. ‘It’s probably nothing,’ she said carefully, ‘but you know he was a bit OCD?’
‘In what way?’
‘One of the baristas told me Adrian had been in trouble for