“He’s a good man, JJ, trust me.” Tom could see though that his opinion would count for only so much, that JJ operated further to the edges than he’d ever need to go and that he’d find his own way. And Tom had never killed anyone either, an absence of knowledge that was visible in his face, leaving him with only half the story. Seeing that perhaps and deferring, he said, “But if you do decide not to go, you know you always have my number.”
“Thanks.” JJ remembered the phone conversation they’d had a short while before and added, “Speaking of which, one more thing. When I called earlier you said no one was trying to kill me either. What did you mean by that?”
“Of course, I should have mentioned it sooner.” Tom paused, thinking about it like he was only just seeing himself how it tied in with what they’d been discussing. “I told you we’d noticed that some very minor people had been taken down. Well, by the same token, we’ve been surprised to see some pretty major people acting like there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Like who?”
“Esther Sanderton, Nick Hooper, Elliot. The rumor mill has everyone diving for cover, but that’s not what’s happening on the ground, not that we can see anyway.”
JJ made to reply, but the girl in the ethnic mix suddenly walked over and spoke to Tom. “Excuse me, do you work here?”
“No, I don’t,” he said, smiling, looking charmed by the mistake.
She looked put out by his response and like she hadn’t quite understood said anyway, “Only I’m looking for a particular book on India, by somebody Fox.”
“I know the one you mean. Louisa Fox. It came out quite recently.” The girl smiled and followed Tom back to the shelf, where he started searching for the book with her, chattering away, another of his desert-flower friendships springing up over a few minutes.
JJ looked on, bemused again by Tom, too big a personality to be in that line of work. And while he waited he turned over the implications of what he’d just been told. The system wasn’t out of control, it was still working fine, but for some unknown reason he’d been cut out of it, along with all those minor players Tom had talked about and a few selected others, Viner among them.
But the mention of Esther’s name in particular made him think there might be some other way out. If he could trust anyone it was Esther; she knew the ropes and would at least lay it down for him how it was, let him know how real his options were. If the past was anything to go by she’d probably help him too, use her own connections with Berg as much as she could. Suddenly she was looking like his strongest contact, saving him from the mind tricks of Holden and Bostridge’s family.
Tom came back over, having found the book for the girl.
“You missed your vocation,” JJ said, smiling.
Tom beamed back. “Can’t help myself. I just love these eccentric English girls.”
“The people you mentioned ...”
“All still in London.”
“So they know they’re okay,” he said, the fact sinking in properly for the first time that he was in danger, just as Holden had said, a contract on him as real and immutable as those he carried out himself. It didn’t seem to mean anything though, especially now, chinks of daylight appearing. “I’ll give it some thought,” he added, almost to himself.
Tom smiled but said, “Maybe you should get some sleep first. You look beat.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. And thanks, Tom. Drinks are on me next time.”
He nodded, a tacit acknowledgment of their strange relationship, said, “Take care, JJ,” and turned and breezed out of the shop, back into the September sunlight.
JJ bought the book and, once outside, ripped out the page he needed and dropped the rest into a trash can, folding up the details of the Copley Inn and putting them in his inside jacket pocket. He hailed a cab and asked for his hotel, settling back in the seat, looking at the crowded streets full of beautiful girls brought out by the sunshine.
He needed to sleep, reminded of it only by Tom’s comment about looking tired. A night had passed without sleep since he’d been at Viner’s, but he hadn’t noticed it until now, the sensation of life draining away from his muscles, a mental state that was like the beginning of lucid dreaming.
So he needed to sleep, and then according to Tom he needed to see Holden. And maybe Tom had a point. Holden was the only one who’d come up with anything for him so far, and if Tom was right, he was the one who’d be best placed to help. JJ still balked at the idea though, partly unnerved because of the way Holden had contacted him, mainly because of Bostridge’s family.