Page 148 of The Mercy Chair

‘St John’s Wood is the only London Underground station to not share any letters with “mackerel”,’ Bradshaw said without hesitation.

‘No, Tilly, that doesn’t mean . . . what, really?’

Bradshaw nodded. ‘It only works because on the tube map, “Saint” is shortened to “St”. It’s nonsense really.’

‘Speaking of nonsense,’ Poe said, ‘did we ever find out what Snoopy was up to?’

Flynn didn’t answer. Doyle re-entered the ward. Poe’s consultant wasn’t with her.

‘Have you moved your bowels, Poe?’ Bradshaw said, starting to go red. ‘The doctor said that moving your bowels is a sign you’re getting better.’

‘You shouldn’t ask people things like that.’

‘But I’m your friend; you can tell me anything.’

Poe turned to Flynn. ‘Boss, tell her.’

‘Answer the question, Poe,’ Flynn said.

Poe raised an eyebrow, wincing as he did. Bradshaw could always be relied upon to misread social situations, but right now her Tillyness was dialled up to eleven. Something was up. Her voice was a little too bright, a little too cheerful, as if she was overcompensating for something. All Flynn did in response was shrug. Poe turned back to Bradshaw. Her face was burning like a brake light, and this was the woman with no embarrassment threshold. Either she was lying, which was unlikely, or there was something she hadn’t been allowed to tell him. It certainly wasn’t about the health of his bowels; a team of whipped vegans couldn’t have stopped her talking about that.

‘What was Snoopy up to, Tilly?’ Poe asked again.

‘Later, Poe,’ Doyle said. ‘Right now you need to rest.’

‘Why later?’

‘Estelle said we’ll talk about it later, Poe,’ Flynn said. ‘And we will.’

Poe said, ‘If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m getting out of bed and I’m discharging myself.’

Doyle sighed. ‘You’re a stubborn, stubborn man, Poe,’ she said. Then to Flynn, ‘You’d better tell him.’

Bradshaw sniffed. Unshed tears shone in her eyes.

Flynn approached the bed. ‘They’re disbanding the unit, Poe,’ she said.

Chapter 128

Something stirred in Poe, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t fear. Fear was useful. The powerful, primitive emotion elicited a biochemical response that flooded the body with chemicals such as adrenaline. Poeembracedfear. Kept it in check until he was ready to use it. But what he was feeling wasn’t fear, it was dread. You couldn’t use dread. Dread gave nothing back; all it did was take.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he said, struggling into a sitting position, stifling a yelp as the too-sudden movement sent shock waves coursing through his body. ‘MI5 can’t simply disband a whole unit of the National Crime Agency. They don’t have the authority.’

‘No, they can’t,’ Flynn confirmed. ‘But theycanput pressure on certain people. Make sure the detective sergeant and the detective inspector roles are redesignated as civilian posts.’

‘But why bother going to all that trouble? There must be easier ways to stop me annoying the wrong people.’

Flynn shook her head. ‘We got it all wrong, Poe,’ she said. ‘This wasn’t about you. This wasneverabout you.’

‘Who was it about then?’

‘Tilly.’

‘Tilly? I don’t understand.’

‘MI5 wanted her. They wanted her and we had her.’

‘This entire bullshit exercise was just a smokescreen to get Tilly out of SCAS?’

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