page37 (1/2)
Alternatively, of course, Strike had gone to Charlotte and she had turned him away In that case, the matter of his current whereabouts beca, less personal concern What if he had gone out, unchecked and unprotected, hell-bent on intoxication again? Robin’s busy fingers slowed and stopped, mid-sentence She swiveled on her computer chair to look at the silent office telephone
She ht well be the only person who knew that Cormoran Strike was not where he was supposed to be Perhaps she ought to call hiht she to let elapse before contacting the police? The idea of ringing Matthew at his office and asking his advice came to her, only to be swatted away
She and Matthew had rohen Robin arrived ho a drunken Strike back to the office froain that she was naive, impressionable and a sucker for a hard-luck story; that Strike was after a secretary on the cheap, and using emotional blackmail to achieve his ends; that there was probably no Charlotte at all, that it was all an extravagant ploy to engage Robin’s sympathy and services Then Robin had lost her te her it was he, with his constant harping on thein, and his insinuation that she was not pulling her weight Hadn’t he noticed that she was enjoying working for Strike; hadn’t it crossed his insensitive, obtuse accountant’sthe tedious bloody job in huh reserving the right to deplore Strike’s behavior) apologetic; but Robin, usually conciliatory and ary The truce effected the following onism, mainly Robin’s
Now, in the silence, watching the telephone, soer at Matthew spilled over on to Strike Where was he? What was he doing? Why was he acting up to Matthew’s accusations of irresponsibility? She was here, holding the fort, and he was presu his ex-fiancée, and never mind their business…
…his business…
Footsteps on the stairwell: Robin thought she recognized the very slight unevenness in Strike’s tread She waited, glaring towards the stairs, until she was sure that the footfalls were proceeding beyond the first landing; then she turned her chair resolutely back to face the ain, while her heart raced
“Morning”
“Hi”
She accorded Strike a fleeting glance while continuing to type He looked tired, unshaven and unnaturally well dressed She was instantly confirmed in her view that he had attempted a reconciliation with Charlotte; by the looks of it, successfully The next two sentences were pockmarked with typos
“How’re things?” asked Strike, noting Robin’s clench-jawed profile, her cold demeanor
“Fine,” said Robin
She now intended to lay her perfectly typed report in front of hieest that he hire another temp this week, so that she could instruct her replaceement of the office before she left
Strike, whose run of appalling luck had been broken in fabulous style just a few hours previously, and as feeling as close to buoyant as he had been forhis secretary He had no intention of regaling her with an account of his night’s activities (or at least, not those that had done so o), for he was instinctively close-lipped about suchto shore up as much as remained of the boundaries that had been splintered by his copious consu an eloquent speech of apology for his excesses of two nights before, an avowal of gratitude, and an exposition of all the interesting conclusions he had drawn from yesterday’s interviews
“Fancy a cup of tea?”
“No thanks”
He looked at his watch
“I’m only eleven minutes late”
“It’s up to you when you arrive I mean,” she attempted to backtrack, for her tone had been too obviously hostile, “it’s none of et here”
Fronaniies for his drunken behavior of forty-eight hours previously, she now felt that his attitude was distastefully free of shame or remorse
Strike busied himself with kettle and cups, and a fewtea beside her
“I said I didn’t—”
“Could you leave that i to you?”
She saved the report with several thumps of the keys and turned to face him, her arms folded across her chest Strike sat down on the old sofa
“I wanted to say sorry about the night before last”
“There’s no need,” she said, in a sht voice
“Yeah, there is I can’t remember much of what I did I hope I wasn’t obnoxious”
“You weren’t”
“You probably got the gist My ex-fiancée’s just got engaged to an old boyfriend It took her three weeks after we split to get another ring on her finger That’s just a figure of speech; I never actually bought her a ring; I never had the money”
Robin gathered, from his tone, that there had been no reconciliation; but in that case, where had he spent the night? She unfolded her arly picked up her tea
“It wasn’t your responsibility to come and find utter or punching someone, so thanks very much”
“No problem,” said Robin
“And thanks for the Alka-Seltzer,” said Strike
“Did it help?” asked Robin, stiffly
“I nearly puked all over this,” said Strike, dealing the sagging sofa a gentle punch with his fist, “but once it kicked in, it helped a lot”
Robin laughed, and Strike remembered, for the first time, the note she had pushed under the door while he slept, and the excuse she had given for her tactful absence
“Right, well, I’ve been looking forward to hearing how you got on yesterday,” he lied “Don’t keep me in suspense”
Robin expanded like a water blossom
“I was just typing it up…”
“Let’s have it verbally, and you can put it into the file later,” said Strike, with the mental reservation that it would be easy to remove if useless
“OK,” said Robin, both excited and nervous “Well, like I said in yeman, and the Malmaison Hotel in Oxford”
Strike nodded, grateful for the reminder, because he had not been able to remember the details of the note, read once in the depths of his blinding hangover
“So,” said Robin, a little breathlessly, “first of all I went along to Russell Square, to SOAS; the School of Oriental and African Studies That’s what your notesdistance from the British Museum Isn’t that what all those scribbles meant?”
Strike nodded again
“Well, I went in there and pretended I riting a dissertation on African politics, and I wanted so to this really helpful secretary in the politics departave raphy and a brief biography He studied at SOAS as an undergraduate”
“He did?”
“Yes,” said Robin “And I got a picture”
From inside the notebook she pulled out a photocopy, and passed it across to Strike
He saw a blackhair and beard and gold-rie ears He stared at it for several long moments, and when at last he spoke, he said:
; “Christ”
Robin waited, elated
“Christ,” said Strike again “When did he die?”
“Five years ago The secretary got upset talking about it She said he was so clever, and the nicest, kindest man A committed Christian”
“Any family?”
“Yes He left aand a son”
“A son,” repeated Strike
“Yes,” said Robin “He’s in the army”
“In the army,” said Strike, her deep and doleful echo “Don’t tell me”
“He’s in Afghanistan”
Strike got up and started pacing up and down, the picture of Professor Josiah Agyeman in his hand
“Didn’t get a regiment, did you? Not that it matters I can find out,” he said