Strover has returned to local duties, patrolling the nail bars and pop-up brothels of Swindon. Ward’s orders. She’s not happy, wanted to stay on the case. The boss is still embarrassed by his closeness to Rob and he’s been throwing his weight around, lashing out at junior officers. Silas will have a quiet word, tell him to back off Strover, not that she can’t look after herself.
He checks his watch. The first counselling session with Mel is at nine tomorrow morning. Should he cancel? He was hoping for an early night, but that plan is already out the window. He’s short-tempered when he’s tired, uncompromising. Scratchy. Maybe he should delay the session for a week, wait until he’s on top of his work, less exhausted, more willing to listen. He feels better already and reaches for the phone, but it’s started to ring. Conor.
‘Hi, Dad, just checking you’re still on for tomorrow?’ Silas has never heard his son sound so upbeat, optimistic. ‘Mum’s well happy you’re coming.’
‘Of course,’ he says, spinning in his chair away from Strover. He doesn’t want her to see him wiping a tear from his eye. ‘I’ll be there.’
It’s early days, but Conor’s rehab is going well and the information he’s supplied has led to the arrests of the remaining members of the modern slavery OCG, who were also running the county lines network in Swindon, just as Silas suspected. The Bluebell pub too has been shut down. It also looks like Conor will be spared from prosecution in return for his cooperation. As for the boat fire, no one has considered Conor’s possible involvement and Jake has no wish to press charges.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Strover says five minutes later as they walk out of Gablecross station to the car park. It’s dusk and feels more like winter than summer, dark clouds brooding over the Swindon skyline.
‘Sure,’ he says. He’s got a grip now.
‘When did you first realise that it was Rob and not Gilmour?’ she asks.
Silas looks across at her as they reach his car. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet since Rob’s death. It happens a lot in police work, when you back the wrong horse. She was convinced Gilmour Martin existed. He was too, for a while.
‘There never was a Gilmour Martin,’ he says as they both get into the car. Rain has started to drift across the deserted car park. ‘Gilmour didn’t frame Rob. Rob framed Gilmour, created him – a French-speaking figment of his imagination. His darker side made flesh.’
‘What about the matching fingerprints from Thailand?’ she asks.
He reaches for the ignition and then pauses as the rain intensifies, hammering down on the car roof. She’s owed an explanation.
‘That’s the moment when I knew Gilmour and Rob were one and the same,’ he says, sitting back. ‘Rob changed in Thailand, came up with his big plan. Whenever he needed to break the law, he decided he would adopt Gilmour’s persona. He would always blame his double, claim he was being framed. The brain farm in Brittany? Gilmour Martin’s idea. When Rob shot the man in Cornwall, he was driving around in a Tesla registered to Gilmour. The backstory he created online? The fake Facebook friends like Kirby? They all added to the myth that Gilmour wanted to bring him down. And of course he fed Kate with the same tosh too – just enough disinformation to make her question her own sanity.’ Silas shakes his head. How’s Kate ever going to recover from this? Jake’s support will be crucial, if she’ll accept it.
‘But how did Rob expect to get away with it, that’s what I don’t understand,’ Strover says.
‘The arrogance of the psychopath,’ he says. It never ceases to amaze him.
‘And the night of Kate’s crash? The video sent to Jake?’ Strover asks. ‘Was that all Rob too?’
Silas nods, glancing out at the car park. It seems a long time ago now. ‘Back then, Rob was beginning to assemble his team of super recognisers. He just hadn’t bothered to consult any of them. He came here the day before the accident, to check out Kate’s work movements. The following night, he’s sitting in the corner of the Bluebell pub, watching, waiting to abduct her, but then someone else gets to Kate first.’
‘The barman.’
‘He spikes her drink, on the orders of the OCG, whose members she had identified.’
‘And who’d recently been arrested,’ Strover adds.
Silas starts up the car, watching the rain dancing in the headlights. ‘Rob’s noticed the barman’s sleight of hand and follows Kate home, worried about her. Imagine his shock when he rounds the corner and finds her Morris Minor smashed up against a tree. It’s his worst nightmare. His best super recogniser is suddenly fighting for her life, possibly brain damaged. He does everything he can but leaves moments before the ambulance arrives – he’d been about to bundle her into the back of his car, remember.’
‘And the pub CCTV?’ Strover asks as they drive out of the car park.
‘After the crash, Rob goes back to the Bluebell and hacks into its cameras, studies the footage.’
‘Man-in-the-middle attack,’ Strover says. ‘Unencrypted password.’
‘Piece of cake for a techie like him. After confirming that her drink was spiked, he searches everywhere for the barman. Rob now knows he must protect Kate at any cost, allow her time to recover. The last thing he needs is for her to be targeted again by the OCG. But the barman has already gone to ground, spooked by this mysterious man in a silent Tesla.
‘Six months later, the gang members are sentenced and Rob fears for Kate’s life all over again, even though he’s installed heavy security down at the house in Cornwall. But he hasn’t been able to find the barman. So he sends the pub footage to Jake, knowing that he will pass it on to us, hoping we’ll realise the danger Kate’s in. It also keeps Jake busy – as Kate’s ex, he’s been doing some unhelpful digging into Rob’s business affairs. And then the barman tracks Kate down to Cornwall, spikes her coffee at the harbour café, and she nearly drowns.’
‘He also tries to run her over in the street,’ Strover says. ‘And me.’
Strover is still indignant about the incident in Cornwall, has taken it surprisingly personally.
‘This time Rob’s onto him,’ Silas says, picking up the story again. ‘He drives down to Cornwall – in a car registered to Gilmour Martin – and shoots the barman, making sure he uses a gun that can be linked back to Gilmour in Thailand.’
‘So you were right,’ Strover says, sitting back. ‘Rob was her guardian angel.’
‘More of a fallen one. He was keeping her safe – for his own hell on earth.’
113
Kate
‘Eyes closed!’ Bex says, taking Kate’s hand.
Kate is back in the village for the first time, standing on the doorstep of Bex’s house on crutches. She does as Bex instructs, but Bex has no idea how hard she’s finding it. How hard she’s finding all of this. It’s not her leg, which is in plaster. Or her ribs, which are still bruised and sore. It’s her eyes. She never wants to close them again.
‘OK!’ Bex says.
Kate opens them like a surprised child. Bex’s kitchen has been decked out with balloons and banners, a large ‘Welcome Home’ strung across the dresser. Bex has always loved throwing parties – ‘Jacob’s joins’, as she calls them, where everyone brings along a dish. All Kate’s old friends from the village are here. Jake too, standing at the back, stooped a little because of the low ceiling. Kate wants to cry, but she knows she must hold it together. This is her past, but it’s also her future.