Page 33 of The Mercy Chair

‘Lucky guess,’ Linus said. ‘Perhaps I should buy a scratchcard.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Taxi dropped me off five minutes ago.’

‘Let’s see about that, shall we?’ Poe raised his hand. Bugger Rumble came running. For a man of advancing years, he was surprisingly spry.

‘I did what you asked, Sergeant Poe,’ he said when he reached them. ‘Can I speak to the specky lass now?’

‘I told you, Bugger; not today.’

Linus narrowed his eyes. ‘Who’s this?’ he said.

‘Bugger, meet Snoopy; Snoopy, meet Bugger Rumble: Carlisle’s most original street entertainer.’

Bugger removed his top hat and bowed. ‘At your service, sir.’

‘Okaaay,’ Linus said. ‘And this . . . person is here why?’

‘Bugger, what time did Snoopy get here?’

‘About three minutes after you went into the cathedral, Sergeant Poe.’

‘Not five minutes ago then?’

‘He’s been leaning against the bonnet of your car for an hour.’

‘And did he arrive in a taxi, Bugger?’

Bugger shook his head. ‘A black Range Rover dropped him off. It’s waiting for him around the corner on Fisher Street. He’s parked outside that music venue.’

‘The Brickyard?’

‘That’s the place.’

‘This man is what? An informant?’ Linus said.

‘Informants report back on illegal activities,’ Poe said. ‘You’re not doing anything illegal are you, Snoopy?’

Linus didn’t answer.

‘No,’ Poe continued, ‘Bugger is . . . how can I phrase this in terminology you might understand?’ He paused as he pretended to consider it. ‘I know,’ he said after a beat, ‘Bugger Rumble is HUMINT.’

‘What does HUMINT mean, Poe?’ Bradshaw asked.

‘Human intelligence, Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘Linus is a spy.’

Chapter 29

‘Are you stark raving mad, Poe?!’ Linus snapped. ‘I don’t know how many times I have to say this: I work for the National Audit Office!’

‘Of course you do,’ Poe said. He turned his back on him and faced Bradshaw. ‘It’s why he knew so much about Cornelius Green’s tattoos. The biggest threat to Western democracy right now isn’t Islamic fundamentalism, it’s the far right. And they love hiding behind crosses and Bibles. In the old days, it was speaking Russian and Farsi that got you through MI5’s door. Now it’s a theology degree.’

‘Golly,’ Bradshaw said. ‘What a sneak.’

‘This is absurd,’ Linus said. ‘Do you want to ring head office? Confirm it with them?’

‘Oh shut up,’ Poe said. ‘The National Audit Office doesn’t have the capabilities to track a mobile phone and that’s the only way you could have found us. Hell, the National Crime Agency barely has it. Not in real time anyway.’

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