Page 30 of Brimstone Bound
‘I need your name and warrant number before I can authorise that action.’
I screwed up my face. I’d hoped that calling from a police department would pass muster. Apparently not. I crossed my fingers and reeled out the information.
‘That’s a trainee number.’
‘Yeah,’ I said quickly. ‘My mentor wants me to practise. It’s his phone that I’m tracking. He seems to think that practising real skills like this will make me a better detective when I finally graduate. It’s just playacting, really.’
‘This isn’t nursery school,’ the woman said, clearly irritated. ‘This service is for genuine police business.’
‘I know, I know. I’m sorry – but I need to do well at this. I’m a hair’s breadth from graduation. If I can get through this last rotation…’
She sighed. ‘Give me his name and number and I’ll see what I can do. I have to contact the network directly, so it might take some time.’
I exhaled. ‘It’s DC Anthony Brown.’ I gave her his number.
‘Wait a moment and I’ll verify that information. I’ll put you on hold.’
As I waited, I checked the computer. The system had done its work. A list of different locations, including several photographs, had appeared on the screen. I ran down them and focused on the last one. Then I frowned. Tallulah had last been registered on St James’s Street just after eleven o’clock last night. That was less than ten minutes’ walk from St Erbin’s Church – and it was around the time when I was being murdered.
I stared at the photo. It was grainy and the image was far from perfect, but that definitely looked like Tony sitting in the driver’s seat.
The phone clicked and the woman spoke again. ‘Take down these coordinates,’ she said. ‘51.5069N, 0.01416W.’
I scribbled them down.
‘He’s certainly messing with you,’ she said. ‘DC Brown’s phone was last pinged by the mast at that location at 11.33pm last night. What’s the bet he’s putting this on expenses?’
My brow creased. ‘What do you mean, putting it on expenses?’
‘Those coordinates are for the DeVane Hotel. I bet he sat in a plush corner and had a champagne cocktail, chuckling to himself about sending you there to look for him. Honestly.’ I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. ‘No wonder Supe Squad has such a bad reputation if it’s full of detectives who swan around one of London’s poshest hotels instead of doing any real work.’
I ignored her last comment and thanked her. The DeVane Hotel made no sense. It wasn’t far from here, but it might as well have been a million miles away in terms of the sort of place I was used to. It certainly wasn’t where I’d expected Tony to hang out. I shook my head briefly. It was within a stone’s throw of St James’s Street, so it had to be right. At least I knew where to go next. Now all I needed was a real weapon to take with me.
I cracked my knuckles and walked into the dimly lit hallway. A wooden staircase with a threadbare carpet runner that had definitely seen better days led upstairs. I gazed up, took a deep breath and followed it upwards.
In the last three months, I’d been fully trained in the correct way to use both a police baton and a Taser. Molly had been keen to go a step further and request firearms training but it wasn’t something that interested me. Police in the UK didn’t routinely carry guns, and gaining admittance to firearm training involved a barrage of tests.
I wondered how difficult it was to get training in the use of crossbows. I had a vision of a teacher dressed as Robin Hood, and a hysterical giggle threatened to bubble out of me. I gulped it back. My emotions were on the edge. I needed to keep my baser instincts at bay if I was to find a way through this mess.
The higher I climbed, the more the stairs creaked. Rather than adding to my unease, the noise was oddly comforting; it gave a touch of normality to my very abnormal day. I focused on each creak and felt myself calming down. In fact, I was so absorbed in the sounds that I almost didn’t hear the knock at the front door. When it filtered through my consciousness that someone was out there, my whole body stiffened.
I took the rest of the stairs two at a time, then swung round the third-floor landing into the nearest room and headed for the window. When I peered down and saw who was standing in the street and frowning at the front door, my heart rate went into overdrive. Again.
Every atom of my body told me to whirl round, sprint down the stairs, fling open the door and throw myself into Jeremy’s arms. The worry etched on his face sent tiny spears of anguish through me. He’d come here late at night to look for me, despite my messaged instructions to the contrary.
I gazed down at him. I didn’t deserve him, and that was why I so determined to keep him out of this mess. I wasn’t about to risk his well-being – his life – even if I desperately wanted his solid, comforting presence. He’d never understood why I wanted to become a police detective, and he certainly wouldn’t understand what was happening now. I twisted my fingers and stepped back so that he wouldn’t catch sight of me if he looked up.
He stepped to the side, his mouth moving as he spoke to the gruff bellman outside the building. I held my breath. If that cantankerous bastard told him that he’d seen me come in less than half an hour ago, I was screwed.
From where I was standing, it didn’t look as if he was being any more forthcoming with Jeremy than he’d been with me. Jeremy’s face spasmed with irritation, then he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked away. I gazed at his retreating back, continuing to watch until long after he’d been swallowed up by the darkness. I’d have to contact him soon and do whatever I could to alleviate his worries, though I wasn’t sure how I’d manage that.
My heart was like a dead weight in my chest and my soul felt even more leaden. Passing a hand over my eyes, I moved back into the room before realising where I was. It was an honest-to-goodness weapons room. I forgot all about Jeremy and gazed round in open-mouthed astonishment. The last thing I’d been expecting was something on this scale.
All four walls were covered with hanging weaponry. On one side there were crossbows, on another daggers. To my right, there was a mind-boggling collection of swords; in front of me were numerous throwing implements, from small axes to gleaming shuriken. Bloodyshuriken. I stared. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before.
I walked over to the swords and touched the blade of an elaborately curved scimitar. It was coated in dust, but I still nicked myself on its lethal edge. I pulled away, sucking at the bead of blood. I wondered if the likes of Lucinda Barnes had any knowledge of this room. The idea that all this weaponry was simply lying around for the taking was barely credible.
Something itched at the back of my mind and I looked at the wall of daggers. Huh. I stepped closer. Every spot was filled. If I’d needed further confirmation that Tony hadn’t slit my throat, this full complement of weaponry provided it. The dust proved that none of these blades had been touched in years. I didn’t need a forensic team to tell me that none of them had been used in my murder.
