Charlie tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Tell me what you didn’t tell Lewis. I’ll make the coffee, then we go.’
Famie looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Tommi was following a hunch – you said it, I heard it. Then, when you were getting mad, you said more people might have died on the twenty-second. I thought you needed to shut up a bit, like you were overstepping your own lines, so I walked in. To change the subject.’
‘You should be a cop,’ said Famie.
‘Or a journalist,’ said Charlie.
‘No, absolutely not. I forbid it,’ said Famie with a rueful smile. ‘Yes, Tommi’s idea was that more people might have died on the twenty-second. Turns out a student called Toby Howells was killed then as well. And that he was a wannabe reporter, same as Hari. Tommi copied us in on all his ideas and the conversation he had with Carol Leven, the IPS crime reporter.’
‘Then he was killed,’ said Charlie.
‘Then he was killed,’ said Famie.
Charlie put her hand over her mother’s. ‘So we need to leave, Mum. Tommi is dead, someone who looks like me is dead. This is getting way too close. Here’s the truth. We’re not safe here. Not any more. I don’t know what we’re still doing here. Do you think this is anything like the end of it? Because if you don’t, we need to go.’
The kettle boiled, and Famie got up to make the coffees. She needed to think straight. How many scoops to cancel half a bottle of Jack? She went back to the packet, spooned in some more grains.
‘Mum, focus, please! Follow the logic. Are we safe here?’
Charlie had upped the volume. Famie felt a headache coming.
‘I am focusing, Charlie,’ she said. ‘I am following the logic. If “they”, whoever “they” are, have targeted you, and you’re here, then no, we are not safe.’
‘You want me to go?’
‘Wait! No! Obviously not.’ Famie sighed. ‘So. If they targeted Tommi because of his questioning about the facts of May twenty-two and Sam and I have been on the same investigation, then again, no, we are not safe.’
She plunged and poured.
‘So?’ said Charlie.
‘So,’ said Famie. ‘We are not safe. But we are also drunk.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘Charlie, we demolished half a bottle of JD. And you had wine on the train. At the very least we’re over the limit.’
Charlie leant across the table. ‘This is risk management, Mum. We need to disappear. Or at least not make it easy for whoever is out there. Anywhere else is better than here where two of their targets are waiting for them.’
Famie swallowed some coffee and winced from the burning in her throat. Charlie’s relentless logic was sobering her up faster than the caffeine.
‘We were about to call the DC. Hunter. I should talk to her.’
‘Sure,’ said Charlie. ‘When we’re not here. We move, then call.’
‘Where would we go?’
‘Anywhere,’ said Charlie. ‘Anywhere that isn’t here.’
‘What about Sam? He must be in danger too.’
‘Can you trust him?’
Famie was aghast. ‘Sam? Of course I trust him.’ She stared at Charlie. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I’m bloody serious!’ said Charlie. ‘It must be what nearly getting killed does to you. He’s married, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, to Jo.’
‘Trust her?’
‘Yes! I … I suppose so.’ Famie’s headache was strengthening. She downed more coffee. ‘She’s a copper. Christ, I don’t know, Charlie! She’s always been lovely to me. She’s from Zimbabwe.’
‘Is that relevant?’
‘Who knows, Charlie? Probably not.’
‘Fine, well, you should tell Sam then.’
‘And Sophie. And, yes, I trust her too.’
Charlie poured the last centimetre of coffee. ‘But that’s it. Not Lewis. No one else.’ She found the paracetamol in the table drawer, put two in Famie’s hand. ‘Take these, Mum. I’ll finish packing the rucksack, you check I’ve got the right stuff, then we’re gone.’
48
3.15 a.m.
THERE WAS NO phone signal till they arrived at the concourse, then Famie’s phone went straight to five bars. Full strength. They had had the escalator to themselves but the station itself was humming. The Euston departure and arrival boards showed nothing for two hours but that hadn’t stopped the vast shopping centre area being used as a thoroughfare. Late-night clubbers, early-morning shift workers and uniformed cleaners all stepped around the homeless and the destitute. Famie clocked the muted conversations, the exhausted faces, the grim determination. We fit in quite well, she thought.
Making the phone call here was Charlie’s idea. They’d parked in a side road which Famie had thought was close enough. But Charlie had insisted, and as Charlie was less drunk than she was, Charlie had won. ‘If we’re calling the police, we need to be where we say we are,’ she had said, and Famie wasn’t going to argue.
‘Here?’ said Charlie, stepping a few metres from the escalator towards a shuttered cupcake stand.
Famie nodded, and dialled the number from the card. It rang four times. A fumbled, rattling pick-up.
‘Hunter,’ croaked a voice at the other end. Asleep certainly, but awake now.
‘It’s Famie Madden. I’m sorry to wake you.’
A rustle and a changed acoustic. A different room.
‘OK, go ahead, Ms Madden. I’m listening.’
Famie glanced at Charlie, who nodded. ‘Someone tried to kill my daughter tonight,’ she said.
‘What happened, Ms Madden? Is your daughter OK?’
‘Terrified but, yes, OK. She’s here now. Got the last train. She was in the Vue cinema in Exeter. Before the film she noticed a girl who looked like her, same height and hair. That kind of thing. When she left the cinema, it was this girl who had been stabbed. She died later. Your colleagues there are asking for witnesses. Charlie wasn’t a witness. But we think she was the target.’
There was a silence from Hunter. Famie assumed she was note-taking.
‘And there’s another thing,’ she said.
‘Where are you, Ms Madden?’
‘Wait,’ said Famie. ‘You might not know this yet but Tommi Dara was killed a few hours ago. Run down by a bus near Cockfosters tube station. He was working a lead in the May twenty-two story, then he was dead.’
‘I didn’t know that, Ms Madden,’ said Hunter. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll get all the information I can and call you later. Maybe you could stop by the station again?’
Raised voices and a scream from somewhere made Charlie jump and grab Famie’s arm.
‘No, that won’t be happening,’ said Famie. ‘We’re off, DC Hunter. We’re at Euston and we’re disappearing. Someone is targeting IPS people and now they’re targeting Charlie. So. We’re gonna hide up somewhere until we know what’s happening.’
The comeback was swiftly, forcefully delivered. ‘I’m not sure that’s wise,’ said Hunter. ‘We need to know where you are. That’s the best way to keep you safe.’