Broken Homes

the law,’ shouted Nicky, her little hands clenched into fists, her head pushed forward. ‘Life for a life.’
    ‘We will find them and we shall bring them to justice,’ said Nightingale. ‘That is the agreement.’
    ‘I am party to no such contract,’ said Oberon.
    ‘Then I beg your forbearance in this matter,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘My forbearance,’ spat Oberon. ‘Is a well your nation has drunk all but dry.’
    ‘There will be justice done in this matter,’ said Nightingale. ‘My oath as a soldier on it.’
    Oberon hesitated and Nicky, sensing the change, turned on him.
    ‘No, no, no,’ she shouted and smacked him hard in the stomach with her little fists.
    ‘Enough,’ said Oberon and took her hands gently but firmly in his own. He looked back at Nightingale. ‘Your oath as a soldier?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Nightingale.
    Oberon nodded, then he stooped and hoisted Nicky into the crook of his arm. She wasn’t that small a child, but it didn’t seem to cost him anything at all.
    ‘Nightingale,’ he said by way of farewell, and then he was gone.
    We all waited a moment and then we all exhaled slowly – including Nightingale.

16
The Puppy Farm
    T he first thing Nightingale ordered us to do was strip off all our identifiably police gear, stick it back in the go bag and head back up to our flat. Local response units were on their way and he planned to drop Sky’s murder in Bromley’s lap. I doubted DCI Duffy was going to be happy about that, but it was standard procedure in Falcon-related – that is, Folly-related – incidents that the fewer different specialist units involved, the easier it was to pretend nothing unusual was happening.
    Me and Lesley, dressed in civvies and with Zach in tow, caught the lift back down to the walkways and joined the other residents staring over the parapets and asking each other what was going on.
    ‘Fucking vandals,’ said Kevin as he nervously watched a couple of IRVs, light bars spinning, pull into the garage circle just below. A bunch of uniforms got out, milled about a bit before realising that they couldn’t reach the garden from there, got back into their cars and drove away.
    ‘I don’t think they’re worried about your lock-ups,’ I told Kevin.
    He eyed me suspiciously. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked.
    I pointed to where a troop of figures in white paper suits threaded ghostly through the trees. ‘They don’t get those out for a garage full of dubious merchandise,’ I said.
    ‘Somebody’s had it,’ said Kevin when he saw the suits, and relaxed.
    We were joined by Kevin’s mum, who’d taken time to put on a coat. ‘It’s diabolical,’ she said. ‘There’s been a girl murdered down there.’
    I tried to look suitably fascinated, but what I felt was queasy.
    ‘Was it someone from the tower?’ asked Kevin.
    ‘Don’t know,’ she said.
    Away to the right of the walkway flood lights kicked in and I could make out the white plastic top of a forensic tent. A woman’s voice filtered through the trees, loud, annoyed, barking out orders – DCI Duffy not being happy, I suspected.
    Kevin tapped me on the shoulder and nodded over at where Lesley was standing with Zach. ‘I thought that was your bird,’ he said.
    ‘Nah,’ I said. ‘We’re just friends.’
    On the border between Barking and East Ham, the North Circular meets the A113 amongst a confused tangle of retail parks, sewage plants and scrubby wasteland. According to witnesses, a scruffy old model Ford Transit, indistinguishable from a million other white vans just like it, pulled over suddenly onto the grass verge and bundled a body out the back. I recognised the body as soon as I saw him, lit by the crime scene lights inside the forensic tent. It was chainsaw guy.
    It was mid-morning and the traffic would have been thundering past if it hadn’t been squeezed down to one lane by the Traffic officers. Probably slowed even more by drivers trying to get a good look at the crime scene. A forensic pathologist had already arrived, but nobody so far had taken official control of the scene. All the MITs were scrambling to avoid taking on what looked like a seriously dodgy Falcon case, especially Bromley who were making it really clear that they didn’t want it either. Which was why I’d been rousted out of my sofa bed after non-sleeping for three hours and dispatched to identify the victim. Bromley were not going to be happy with me for roping them into this – it would