The Stone Wife
- Автор: Ловси Питер
- Серия: Peter Diamond #14
- Год: 2014
- Язык: английский
- Год: Sphere
- ISBN: 978-0-7515-5405-2
- Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Электронная книга - «The Stone Wife». Краткое содержание книги:
‘Where will you be?’ she asked.
‘Watching,’ he said. ‘She’s right about Queen Square. It’s bloody big and she can see all around. Advantage Lily. But when the talking is done, she has to leave and we’ll see exactly which way she goes. Advantage Nathan. We’ll be there to pick her up. Game, set and match.’
The logic was persuasive. Nathan was no beginner in the art of reeling people in.
The limo cruised sedately south of the river by the road that runs alongside it, Coronation Road. They had more than twenty minutes in hand, but getting to Queen Square early and waiting would be no hardship. A short break from present company would come as a relief. Nathan’s efforts at friendship made Ingeborg’s flesh creep.
At the major roundabout that linked with the A38, they turned left and crossed the Avon at the first opportunity, the bridge at the western limit of Redcliffe Way, and so arrived in the Grove.
Nathan turned to her before the car stopped. ‘Keep it simple, right?’
‘I hear you.’
She got out, crossed the street and started up Grove Avenue.
Bristol has never treated its architecture with the same respect Bath has. Queen Square, one of the glories of the city, the largest Georgian square in the world, has suffered terribly over the years. In 1831, much of it was burnt down during three days of rioting over the rejection of the Reform Bill; and, in 1937, another act of violation occurred when the Inner Circuit road was thrust diagonally across it. Only in 2000 was the abuse corrected and the space restored.
The few surviving eighteenth century houses bordering the square — including the first American embassy — are along the south side where Ingeborg emerged, but her eyes were fixed ahead, on the rendezvous, the intersection of the broad walks where the equestrian statue sits on a tall plinth of Portland stone. A few people were about, and several were using the park seats facing the centre. She couldn’t tell from this distance whether Lee was among them. She was still some ten minutes early.
The sense of space here was a joy after being confined for hours in the Leigh Woods mansion. She had no difficulty empathising with Lee. Any woman who took on Nathan was depriving herself of independence. His involvement in the criminal culture meant that he demanded control and unquestioning loyalty.
But there was a real danger of what military strategists called mission creep.
Don’t side with Lee, she rebuked herself. This is about you and the job you have to do.
She moved straight across the lawn towards the centre, mindful that space shouldn’t be confused with freedom. She knew her every step was being watched by Nathan and his henchmen, no doubt dispersed at each side of the vast square with a sightline avoiding the few mature trees.
Be vigilant. These are dangerous people.
About a minute of steady walking brought her to the centre. Nowhere could she see Lee. She circled the perimeter of the gravel area checking the people on seats: three old couples, two women with dogs and one young mother with a toddler in a stroller. There’s time, she told herself. I have a few minutes in hand.
Even so, no one resembling Lee was moving in this direction across the square.
She looked up at the statue, an idealised rendering in brass of King William III as a heroic Roman figure on a high-striding stallion — which was ironic considering William had died after a riding accident when his horse tripped on a molehill. The statue had also suffered the indignity of being shifted off-centre when the dual carriageway was put through and only returned to its original position in 2000. Blokes and their delusions of grandeur, she thought. Better watch out, King William. There could be worse to come. Brass is fetching record prices as scrap metal.
For something to do, she took out her iPhone and snapped a picture of the king.
Out of nowhere a male voice said, ‘Want me to take one of you?’
Get lost, buster, she thought. The last thing I want is to be picked up by some man on the make.
‘That’s okay.’ She made her wishes clear by returning the phone to her pocket.
‘You know who I am.’
More of a statement than a question. She’d been avoiding eye contact. Now she gave him a glance, still thinking it was a try-on.
Tall, fortyish, black leather jacket and jeans. And bearded.
She knew him.
‘You’re Marcus, from the TV crew.’
‘And you’re the writer doing the piece on Lee Li. She’s not coming. She asked me to meet you.’
Her spirits plunged. Nothing is certain but the unforeseen, as Lee would surely have said.
‘Why?’
‘She has to be ultra-careful. She dumped Nathan — her boyfriend — and he’s bound to be looking for her.’
‘And how do you come into it?’
‘I gave her some help. She stayed with me last night. But she’s still dead keen to see you. I’m here to take you to her.’
Better.
Last night’s events made more sense. Lee had spent several nights with the crew shooting the video, ample time for a friendship to develop. She must have poured out her troubles to Marcus and he’d aided her escape, using the rope ladder and transported her away from the Great Britain.
All very sweet — except that it created a problem. This changed scenario would surprise the watchers at the borders of the square. What would Nathan make of it if she wandered off with Marcus? Would he even recognise Marcus? He should do. Would he have the sense to guess Marcus was leading her to Lee?
It was a chance she had to take.
‘Lead on, then.’
They crossed the lawn and approached the row of houses on the west side, walking as briskly as if they were doing it for their health. She couldn’t see Nathan’s car, but she was in no doubt he was watching, revising the plan, plotting his next move. She hoped he didn’t suspect she had prearranged this. When push came to shove — another thing Lee would say — she was still in Nathan’s camp.
‘Where are we heading?’ she asked Marcus.
‘Not far.’
Actually she could see they were making a beeline for Middle Avenue, one of the main exits from the square. Queen Square is built on former marshland surrounded on three sides by water. Ahead of them was an area she knew well, Bordeaux Quay, a trendy haunt for the young where old warehousing had been inventively converted into centres for the arts. The Arnolfini Gallery was to the left and the Watershed media centre across the bridge and to the right. It was well possible Lee had chosen one place or the other for the meeting.
‘Good call,’ she said to Marcus. ‘This is less obvious than the square.’
‘Her idea, not mine.’
At the end of Middle Avenue they turned left towards the giant arches of the Arnolfini. Ingeborg was thinking Nathan’s stalking ability would be tested in this more confined area. His presence still wasn’t obvious.
But the Arnolfini wasn’t the meeting place. Halfway along, Marcus turned right, towards the quayside. Ahead of them was the footbridge known to most locals as the horned bridge, but officially called Pero’s Bridge, after an Afro-Caribbean slave who had worked in Bristol in the eighteenth century when it was said that ‘there is not a brick in the city but what is cemented with the blood of a slave.’
The horns were huge sculptures at either side of the section that sometimes lifted to allow river traffic to pass. They acted as counterweights and looked like the monstrous loudspeakers of antique gramophones. Suiting the slave theme, they were said to be symbolic of the Caribbean flair for music.
At this moment Ingeborg wasn’t interested in symbolism. Every sinew of her body tensed at the sight of one of Nathan’s musclemen standing with arms folded at the far side of the bridge.