No Escape (39 page)

‘There’s been an accident,’ the woman said. ‘Robin’s been hurt.’

‘My God – what kind of accident?’ Lizzie hesitated. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are – I can’t just come without—’

‘My name’s Clare Novak,’ the young woman said. ‘I’m a friend of Robin’s, and can you please, please come
now
, because Robin’s asking for
you.’

Lizzie’s confusion mounted – she fought for commonsense. ‘Where is he? Is he in hospital?’

‘It isn’t far,’ Clare Novak said. ‘Please come – it’s in walking distance.’

‘I don’t—’

‘Please,’ the other woman said. ‘Robin needs you.’

Lizzie thought of his kindness.

‘I’ll be right down.’

The ambulance had arrived in New Smithfield, and Shipley was being carried down the stairs by the paramedics, who wanted to know if either Allbeury or Novak would be coming to
St Thomas’s.

‘Police’ll want a word with one of you, I should think,’ one of the men said.

‘I am the police,’ Shipley said.

‘Even so, love,’ the paramedic said kindly, as if he thought her delusional.

‘She is,’ Novak told him. ‘She’s a detective inspector.’

Allbeury stooped to speak softly against Shipley’s ear. ‘I’ll come to the hospital later,’ he said, ‘tell you everything I can, I swear it. But right now, Mike and
I have to go, really
have
to.’

Shipley looked into his face and, as forcefully as this man had exerted a hold on her suspicions over the past few months, she felt the hold twist suddenly now, flip half-circle, pushing her,
compelling her to run
with
him.

‘You go,’ she told him.

Allbeury waited till the ambulance was out of sight and turned to Novak.

‘We have to go and find Clare, Mike,’ he said.

Novak stared at him, his bizarre entrance – before Wade and Shipley had hijacked the show – coming back into his mind.

‘You smashed my computer,’ he said. ‘And then you said I’d been
spying
on you, and I want to know what the hell you were talking about.’

‘Hacking,’ Allbeury said, ‘or rather, cracking.’ He felt in his pocket for his car keys. ‘It’s going to have to wait till after we get to Clare.’

‘If anyone’s going to Clare,’ Novak said, ‘it’s me.’

‘Not without me,’ Allbeury said.

‘You’ve lost it.’ Novak turned his back.

Allbeury caught hold of his arm. ‘Listen to me, Mike, just
listen
.’

‘Let go,’ Novak said.

‘Not unless you listen to me.’

‘Let go of my
arm
.’

Allbeury let go. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘in fact, I’m almost sure, that Clare’s in a great deal of trouble.’

‘What kind of trouble?’

‘Can we just
find
her?’ Allbeury said intensely. ‘Because if we don’t get to her very soon, Mike, I’m afraid of what might happen.’

Tower Bridge had been raised when Lizzie and Clare had left Shad Tower, and Lizzie had heard the tall, red-haired woman curse under her breath, but even as they hurried over
the St Saviour’s footbridge, around the Design Museum and into Shad Thames, trying not to slip on the cobbles, heading for the steps that led up to the bridge, the tall ship for which it had
been raised had already sailed beneath, and in moments it was lowered again.

‘Wouldn’t it be better to take a taxi?’ Lizzie asked, peering through the dusk. ‘Where exactly are we going?’

‘Do you see any for hire?’ the other woman said, quite tersely.

Lizzie looked around, already feeling drained again, but all the black cabs had their lights turned off. ‘I don’t think I can go too fast,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

Clare Novak took her arm. ‘I’ll help you.’

Lizzie didn’t much care for the closeness, but she didn’t argue, felt weak enough at this instant, out here in the wind, with people and traffic all around, to need support.

‘Why didn’t you phone,’ she asked, ‘instead of coming to get me?’

‘Robin’s machine was on,’ Clare Novak said, ‘and I didn’t want to just leave a message in case you didn’t pick it up.’

Being drawn on, Lizzie felt perplexed, was not at all sure, now, if this was a clever thing to be doing, walking
somewhere
with this forceful woman who might well be a friend of
Robin’s, but was still a total stranger to her – and everything was crowding in on her, Christopher and Jack, and she hadn’t phoned the children.

They were over the bridge now, crossing at the lights into East Smithfield, and the street was clogged with cars and pedestrians, and Clare’s hand was still on her elbow, and Lizzie, on
unfamiliar territory, felt disoriented again, and crowded by the other woman’s proximity.

‘Is it much further?’ she asked, already breathless.

‘Not too much.’

‘I still don’t know what’s happened.’

‘You’re worrying, aren’t you?’ Clare Novak said.

‘Of course I’m worrying.’

‘He’ll be all right,’ the other woman said. ‘I’m a nurse, I took care of him.’

Lizzie extricated her arm, stopped walking.

‘What’s wrong?’ Clare halted too, looked at her.

‘I have to slow down for a moment.’ She tried to catch her breath, felt the need to take control.

‘Okay,’ Clare said. ‘Of course.’

‘Now tell me what happened, please.’

‘A fight,’ Clare said, bluntly.

‘A
fight
?’ Lizzie blinked. ‘Who with?’

‘If you must know,’ the other woman said, ‘with my husband, Mike.’

Lizzie took another moment. She was sure she’d heard the name Mike Novak before – from Robin, she supposed – but she couldn’t remember what he’d said.

‘All right to go on now?’ Clare asked.

A man and two women stepped around them to pass on the pavement, all chattering, their normality slightly reassuring.

‘Yes,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Only I don’t want to leave him for too long,’ Clare said. ‘Robin, that is.’ She smiled at Lizzie, a kindly smile. ‘You’re not feeling great, are you?
Why don’t you just take my arm again?’

‘I’m all right,’ Lizzie said, and began walking.

‘Closeness to strangers does make some people uncomfortable,’ Clare said, walking beside her. ‘I know, from nursing.’

She lengthened her stride a little, and Lizzie had to speed up, and this weakness was so unlike her, she usually had so much energy, though perhaps, if she thought about it, she’d never
got wholly back to her old self since the surgery.

Surgery
, she thought, savagely, feeling sick, and walked faster.

‘I think Robin’s upset as much as hurt—’

‘Why were he and your husband fighting?’ Lizzie interrupted.

‘—and I know he’s got a bit of a thing for you, Lizzie, which was, frankly, the
real
reason I came to get you, because I’m hoping he’ll listen to you and not
press charges against Mike.’

Clare turned left, moving very quickly now. Lizzie glanced at the street sign – Dock Street – and followed, caught up.

‘Mike’s such a good person.’ Clare was still talking rapidly. ‘And I need him so badly, especially now the baby’s coming, that’s why I want you to try to
help.’

‘You’re pregnant?’

‘Yes,’ the other woman said. ‘Only our last child died.’

Lizzie’s heart softened, went out to the stranger. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘So you do see?’

‘A little, I suppose.’ Lizzie wanted to be tactful now. ‘And if there’s some way I can help, I will, but I don’t see why Robin should listen to me – we hardly
know each other.’

‘That can’t be quite true,’ Clare said, ‘surely. Or else you wouldn’t have been sleeping in his flat, would you?’

‘Try your number again,’ Allbeury said, in Kingsway’s heavy traffic.

‘I don’t want to,’ Novak said, belligerently, ‘if she’s sleeping.’

He hadn’t wanted to come in the Jaguar either, had wanted to collect the Clio from the car park, but Allbeury’s urgency had persuaded him, and now, though his anger with the
solicitor still lingered, Novak’s anxiety over Clare was taking over.

‘For the last time,’ Allbeury said, ‘I’m sorry about your computer.’

‘I don’t give a fuck about the computer, I just want to understand why you’ve turned into a bloody madman and what Shipley and that other lunatic were doing in my
office.’

‘I’m sorry about that too.’ Allbeury braked hard as a van cut in front of him, then flashed his headlights in irritation. ‘And I will explain it all to you later, but I
can’t right now, okay?’

‘Not okay,’ Novak said. ‘Not okay at all.’

Allbeury shook his head, detached his thoughts from his angry passenger. He’d phoned the apartment twice since leaving the agency, but of course his machine had picked up, and he’d
called Lizzie’s name a couple of times, in case she was awake, but she hadn’t picked up, and he hadn’t left a message since he was certain she wasn’t the type to listen to
another person’s messages.

‘Any short cuts from here?’ he asked Novak now.

‘Nothing that’ll help at this time.’

Allbeury set his mind back onto a different track, trying to avoid the temptation to put two and two together and make a thousand, and even now he knew he couldn’t be certain that it
hadn’t
been Mike Novak poking around in his PC, and just because the guy claimed not to know what the hell was going on, and just because he
liked
Novak didn’t mean
anything.

He glanced at the man, sitting tight-lipped and strained beside him.

A gap in the traffic opened up just ahead to his right. Allbeury checked in his wing mirror, put his foot down and filled it.

Still going nowhere.

‘Nearly there now,’ Clare told Lizzie.

‘Thank God for that,’ Lizzie said, then saw the dead-end sign and the dark, narrow cobbled cul-de-sac, and hung back again.

‘It’s all right.’ Clare smiled and pointed. ‘That’s where we’re going.’

Lizzie peered past a straggle of parked vehicles, looking for Robin’s Jaguar.

‘In the car park,’ Clare said, reading her mind.

They reached the building, and Lizzie saw the sign –
Novak Investigations Ltd
– and of course,
that
was where she’d heard the name; Robin had mentioned the Novaks
during their dinner in West Hampstead, the private detective and his wife who ran the agency together. ‘
Nice people
,’ she recalled him saying.

‘This is your agency,’ she said.

‘That’s right.’

‘I thought you said you were a nurse.’

‘Used to be. Still am, part-time.’ Clare opened the outer door. ‘Bit dilapidated, I’m afraid, and a bit of a hike up, so watch your step.’

She was right, Lizzie saw. Not well lit, but adequately enough to show grubby white walls, a wide, archaic-looking lift with an Out of Service sign and a padlock attached to the kind of
old-style gate that concertinaed when opened.

‘I’d better go ahead,’ Clare said. ‘You take your time.’

Lizzie, feeling ragged, didn’t need telling twice.

They passed the first floor, silent, doors closed, a dusty parcel leaning against a wall beside a Yellow Pages, then the second and third floors, just as unoccupied, and by the fourth, Lizzie
could scarcely catch her breath.

‘Sorry about all the stairs,’ Clare called down. ‘You get used to it.’

‘Rather you than me,’ Lizzie gasped.

The top floor was brighter, the single door bearing another, smaller, agency sign. Clare stood for a moment, looking at the door.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lizzie asked breathlessly, her legs aching.

‘Nothing,’ Clare said. ‘I hope.’

She pushed the unlocked door open and went through.

‘She’s not here.’

Novak’s statement as he returned to the living room of the small Lamb’s Conduit Street flat, sent a signal of alarm through Allbeury.

‘No message?’ he asked. ‘Note?’

‘Nothing.’ Novak shook his head. ‘There’s no reason why she should have left a note. No reason for her to have stayed in all day either, just because she didn’t
come into the office.’

‘So where do you think she is?’

‘She could be anywhere.’

‘Anywhere’s a little useless from the search point of view,’ Allbeury said.

‘That’s if I wanted to search for her,’ Novak said.

‘Take my word for it,’ Allbeury said. ‘You need to find Clare.’

‘For
fuck’s
sake stop telling me that, and start telling me
why
.’

‘All right,’ Allbeury said. ‘But you’d better sit down.’

‘Just
tell
me.’ Novak sat down anyway.

Allbeury remained standing, conscious that he was taking a chance by going with his instincts, even if those instincts were almost always pretty fine-tuned. But Winston Cook’s trail had
led him to Novak Investigations, and there were
two
Novaks working at the agency, and Mike was always hailing Clare as his in-house computer whiz.

‘I think,’ he began, very slowly, ‘that – though I have no idea why she should have done such a thing – Clare may have been breaking into my computer system.’
He saw the expression in the other man’s eyes, the colour rising in his cheeks, went on quickly, regardless. ‘Invading the files on my hard disk. Hacking.’ He paused.
‘Cracking.’

‘You bastard.’ Novak sprang to his feet. ‘You lousy piece of
shit
! Telling me Clare was in trouble, scaring me half to death just so you could come here and accuse her
of such unmitigated
balls
!’

Allbeury waited for Novak to take a swing at him, ready to let him have the one, at least, because he could well understand the anger – and his friend’s rage, in any case, was adding
to his conviction that he wasn’t the one behind the hacking.

Novak threw no punch, just stood there seething.

‘I’m very much afraid,’ Allbeury said, quietly, ‘that I do have proof, Mike. I wish to God I hadn’t, but I have.’

‘What proof?’ Novak spat contemptuously.

‘And I’m pretty sure that DI Shipley’s going to be reaching a few conclusions of her own as soon as she gets her head back together.’