Page 116 of The Hallmarked Man
‘So you’ve seen it. Obviously.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen it.’
‘He’s not fucking doing this to me.He’s not fucking doing it. I’ll fuckingdestroythat fucker, I’ll make him wish—’
‘Strike—’
‘They’ve paid some fucking – they’ve dragged up some—’
‘I know what they’ve done!We need to talk!’ said Robin, slamming the dividing door on the staring Pat.
Strike was pacing in his shirt sleeves.
‘What?’ he threw furiously at Robin, who was watching him. ‘You need me to say it, do you? Fine, I’ll fucking say it: I’ve never hired a sex worker – I’ve never hired one, full fucking stop, but I’ve sure asfucknever done it to entrap anyone.’
‘I know,’ said Robin (didshe know? God, she hoped she did), ‘but this isn’t the way to deal with it, you’re just giving Culpepper more to print, threatening him!’
Robin wished her voice wasn’t shaking, but she had to ask the next question; matters had gone too far for polite avoidance of the subject.
‘Who was the woman in the first article?’
Strike now knew the fury of a cornered predator. His business under attack, his relationship with Robin threatened; he knew he owed her an explanation, and that it was crucial she heard the truth from him, and that he made it sound as unsordid as possible, but all he really wanted to do was start punching out windows.
‘Her name’s Nina Lascelles,’ he said. ‘TheHonourableNina Lascelles, if you want the full fucking – and she’s how I got hold of the manuscript of fuckingBombyx Mori,’ he said, referring to a book the agency had been keen to get its hands on. ‘Culpepper told me his cousin worked at the publishers, and gave me her contact details. We met, we went to the Roper Chard party together, she ran me off a copy of the manuscript. There was no seduction, no promise of anything. She enjoyed the adventure.’
‘And?’ said Robin, who was still holding Strike’s mobile tightly in both hands.
‘And I invited her to dinner with me at Lucy’s the next night. As a thank you.’
Robin, who’d never been invited to Lucy’s for dinner, couldn’t understand why Strike, most private of men, would have mixed business and family in this way.
‘And then—?’
‘I slept with her,’ said Strike aggressively, ‘yeah. Twice. And then I never called her again. But there was no fucking coercion, noquid pro quos, nothing.’
‘Right,’ said Robin.
‘It was – one of those things. I didn’t particularly—’
He had just enough sense to bite off the end of that sentence, but Robin had heard it, anyway.Didn’t particularly fancy her.
But you slept with her anyway,thought Robin,because of course you did. And now look.
‘She wanted a relationship,’ said Strike, who thought this was a point in his favour. ‘She wanted to keep it going. That’s why – I could tell she was carrying a grudge, the night I saw her at the Dorchester. She claims I fucked up one of her best friend’s lives, too.’
‘Whose?’ said Robin in alarm, visualising fresh vistas of fertile scandals for the tabloids to explore.
‘No fucking idea. Probably some cheating wife we investigated. But she guessed I was there on a job, at the Dorchester, so when Mr A told his ex he knew what she was up to—’
‘Well, going forwards,’ said Robin (Strike would have said exactly the same, she knew, had it been a question of another employee), ‘maybe you shouldn’t be doing the kind of jobs where you might bump into former girlfriends.’
‘There aren’t that fucking many of them!’
‘But a lot of them come from that kind of social circle, don’t they?’ said Robin, who was determined to have her say; not to punish him, but because the agency meant more to her than coddling Strike’s feelings. ‘It’s a miracle this has never happened before. You’re the most recognisable member of the agency, as well. We just need to bear that in mind from now on.’
After fuming in silence for a few seconds, Strike bellowed ‘FUCK’S SAKE’ at no one in particular, though it made Robin jump.
‘You know what you need to do?’ Robin said, forcing herself to speak calmly. ‘Call Fergus Robertson.’
