Page 52 of The Mercy Chair

‘You’ll look into it?’ Nightingale asked.

‘If that’s what you want us to do, ma’am?’

Nightingale didn’t immediately answer. ‘The note was left for you, not me,’ she said after a while. ‘It makes sense if you stay on it for now.’

‘Then I have my instructions.’

‘Where will you start? Israel Cobb isn’t on any local or national databases we can access.’

‘Same place I always do when I’m searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found,’ he said. He turned to Bradshaw. ‘Tilly, find me Israel Cobb, please.’

***

‘Shall I keep working on the alphanumerical tattoos as well, Poe?’ Bradshaw asked when they were back in the car.

‘No, you were right, Tilly,’ Poe replied. ‘Without more information we run the risk of wasting hundreds of hours decoding what might end up being something as stupid as his crop rotation policy.’

‘OK, Poe.’

Bradshaw removed two computers from her bag and connected them with a cable. She fiddled with her phone and began typing. Poe knew she was doing something she called ‘tethering’ although he didn’t have a clue what that meant. As far as he was concerned, ‘tether’ was almost tethera, number ‘three’ in the ancient Cumbrian sheep-counting system. The rhythmic yan, tan, tethera and so on had been used by shepherds up until the Industrial Revolution. He had yan, tan, tethera on one of his mugs at home.

‘How will you find Israel Cobb, Tilly?’ Linus asked.

Bradshaw glanced at Poe. He nodded his permission.

‘First of all, I will confirm that he exists,’ she said, continuing to type. ‘Once I have done that—’

‘What if hedoesn’texist?’

She paused. ‘He does.’

‘You can’t possibly know that. Israel Cobb could be someone’s nickname. It could be the name mothers use to make children eat their vegetables. If you don’t finish your green beans Israel Cobb will come for you. It could—’

‘He exists.’

‘How can you be so sure though? Just because Poe thinks he exists doesn’t mean—’

‘I know he exists because I’ve already found him.’

Linus went quiet. Poe smiled to himself.

‘You’ve found him?’ Linus said.

‘I have.’

‘In less than a minute you’ve found someone Superintendent Nightingale couldn’t find in’ – he checked his watch – ‘three hours?’

Bradshaw shrugged.

‘But . . . but how? Which databases did you search?’

Bradshaw didn’t answer. She was wearing a look Poe had come to know well. It was the look that said she’d been accessing databases she had no legal right to.

Poe came to her rescue. ‘Trade secrets, Snoopy.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing. What did you find, Tilly?’

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