A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,54

they were inside the flat before he spoke. “What the fuck was that about?”

“I thought it was someone I didn’t want to see.”

Tay handed him the card. “He thinks you’ll be the next big thing.”

Ink ripped the card in half and dropped it in the waste bin. “I don’t want to be the next big thing.”

“Why the hell not? God, Ink, you’re really good, but you live hand to mouth. You’re homeless. This could be the start of something huge. Give the guy a call.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a different goal.”

Tay sighed. He could see there was no point pushing, but something didn’t add up. “We still going out, or what?”

“I’ll make us lunch here.”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t that Tay was letting this drop, but something had freaked Ink out. Badly. His face was pale. Why would a homeless guy who loved playing and singing not want to follow this up? It was a chance in a million to get spotted by a talent scout and Ink wasn’t interested? Why? What was that different goal? Tay couldn’t help but conclude that someone was looking for Ink, and whether it was the guy who’d given him the card or not, it had freaked him out. So who and what was he afraid of?

INK HAD CALMED DOWN BY the time they were heading out of the flat. Dog gave them a reproachful look when he registered that he wasn’t going with them, but another dental chew solved that. The stupid thing was that Ink had known it wasn’t Carter as he’d seen the man approach, but it was that determined look in his eyes that had sent him into a flat-out panic.

He kept telling himself that there was no need to be worried. He was still safe. He wasn’t interested in a pop career because there couldn’t be one for him. No way could he let people think he was going to make them money, when the truth was that he’d lose them everything if—when—he was identified. If people were still burned at the stake, that’s what would happen to him.

Tay had let it drop, but Ink knew he had to be wondering, just as he was probably wondering why Ink hadn’t pressed about the drugs. It made no sense that Ink wouldn’t be jumping for joy to be approached by a talent scout. There probably wasn’t another busker anywhere in the city, maybe the whole country, who would have ripped up that card.

But now Ink couldn’t play in London anymore. Once he had Tay off drugs, that was it. He’d move on. If it had been Carter this morning, Ink would already be on a train out of the capital. He wished he had sunglasses to hide behind. Tay was wearing a pair, only now Ink didn’t know what he was thinking.

One useful thing he’d done while he’d waited for Tay to get back from the high street was finding his stash of pills inside one of the zipped cushions in his bedroom. Ink had shaken half a little bottle of chili powder into the packet, added two teaspoons of dry mustard powder, then ground the mixture down with the end of the rolling pin before putting the packet back where he’d found it. Tay wasn’t going to be pleased.

“Aren’t you talking to me?” Tay asked.

“Sorry. I was miles away.”

“Talking of miles, are you pushing me all the way there?”

“It’s a nice day. You could walk for a while along the Victoria Embankment.” St Paul’s was coming up ahead. “Have you been inside the cathedral?”

“No, have you?”

“No. Too expensive. Did you know that Guy Fawkes and some of his co-conspirators were hung, drawn and quartered in the churchyard?”

“Eww. No.”

“Except that isn’t quite true. The plan was for Fawkes to be dragged by horse to his execution, hanged, but cut down before he died, have his bits sliced off and burned in front him.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Then he’d be disembowelled and his heart cut out before he was decapitated and cut into quarters. Can’t say they weren’t inventive with ways to kill traitors. But as Fawkes climbed the platform to the scaffold with the noose around his neck, he jumped and died instantly. I couldn’t find out if they did all the other things to him, though they did quarter him.”

Ink was prattling on to distract himself.

“There’s been some grizzly ways of executing people over the centuries. Boiling to death, impaling, being eaten by rats trapped in cages fastened to stomachs, skinned alive, and