The Secret Hours by Mick Herron

Author:Mick Herron [Herron, Mick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PART FIVE:

LONDON, NOW

“Our friend has had a turn. She’ll be fine.”

Shelley was holding a bottle of water to the woman’s mouth, in a vague approximation of someone who knew about turns, and how to handle them.

“Have you called an ambulance?”

“It happens a lot. When her meds kick in, she’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure . . .”

Max gave a thumbs-up gesture, which surprised even himself. The concerned dog-walker, civic duty done, moved on, and Shelley screwed the cap on the bottle. Their female captive, propped between them, gave a low moan.

He wasn’t sure where they were, but it involved a bench, a grassed-over area hemmed by trees, and a children’s playground that was currently deserted. Behind the wall at their backs was the main road they’d recently crossed, having cut through several side streets, all named after Dickens characters: a ten-minute walk from the pub, which had taken nearer twenty because of their burden, and if the pub landlord had actually called the police they’d be answering serious questions by now, or wearing serious handcuffs. Aggravated assault and kidnapping: neither of them pursuits that academics should be involved in, even if they had retired early.

Their burden, meanwhile, slumped forward, and would have slid from the bench if Shelley hadn’t prevented her.

“She needs medical attention,” she said, in the tone of one stating a fact rather than recommending a course of action.

“How do you think I feel?” said Max, touching his cheek where the woman’s baton had whipped him. No blood, but a weal had arisen.

“You’ll live.”

Two nearby dogs quivered in the gloom, taking the measure of each other, while their walkers waited, leashes in hand.

Max said, “Thank you. By the way.”

“I’d say you were welcome. But I still wish you hadn’t turned up at my door.”

“Yet there you were when I needed you.”

“What else was I supposed to do? Let you wander into a lions’ den by yourself?”

“It was a pub crawl, not a safari.”

“Wildlife turned up, didn’t it?” she said. “It occurred to me that if you had the idea of going hunting for Bachelor, they might work out the same thing for themselves. And be waiting for you.”

“Whoever they are.”

“Whoever they are, yes. But whoever they are, banking on them being less smart than you wasn’t the clever option.”

“In the circumstances,” he said, “I can’t argue with that.”

Other current circumstances included their having shed John Bachelor’s company on leaving the pub, a decision reached by mutual consent, or would have been had discussion preceded it. As it was, Bachelor had simply waited to verify the direction they’d chosen, then made off in a separate one. Max had no problem with this. The milkman had done his duty: above and beyond, actually. He’d have put money on Bachelor remaining in the gents once he’d clocked the newcomers’ arrival.

He said, “He’s not a great advert for Cornwell House, John. On the other hand, he didn’t betray me, or not deliberately. And he came out fighting when it mattered.”

“So did I.”

“So did you.

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