his breast pocket.
She didn’t want to see any search warrant. She had nothing to hide.
‘Is Sean okay?’ she said quickly.
‘We thought you might be able to help us with that, Mrs Ryan.’
The weakness in her legs came rushing back. She put a hand out, steadied herself against the wall. The policewoman reached towards her. She shrugged her away, straightened herself, and focused on the inspector.
‘Why the hell are you in my house?’ She knew she sounded angry, but she didn’t care.
‘We’re investigating some serious matters, Mrs Ryan.’ His voice had a passive quality, but his eyes were as hard as granite.
‘Under our search warrant powers we’re permitted to remove all the computer equipment in your home, and any papers or any other items related in any way to the matters under investigation. All these powers have been granted under regulations contained in the Financial Services and Markets Act 2000.’
It sounded like a set of words that he was well practiced in delivering.
‘Your cleaner showed us your husband’s office.’
‘Sorry, Mrs Ryan. There was nothing I could do,’ called out a weak voice from down the corridor. Sabrina’s head poked up over Inspector Kirby’s shoulder.
‘It’s all right, Sabrina. It’s to do with the bank.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. She had to focus. She couldn’t care about them being here.
‘You’re trying to find my husband?’ She rubbed her forehead. It was slick with sweat.
‘Yes,’ was Inspector Kirby’s curt reply. His tone made it clear he thought she should be the one answering questions.
‘I have to go, Mrs Ryan.’ Sabrina pushed past the inspector, gave Isabel a weak smile, and patted her arm as she went by.
Sabrina opened the door and then went out.
A gust of freezing wind swept in. The policewoman followed Sabrina outside, pulling the door closed behind her. ‘We need to ask you some questions, Mrs Ryan. Where can we do that?’ Inspector Kirby looked like someone who’d seen everything the world could throw in front of a policeman.
‘You probably know the house as well as I do by now, Inspector. Where would you suggest?’
‘The kitchen.’
She led the way. The walls seemed to be closing in as she went down the corridor, as if the house was suddenly smaller than it had been, as if it wasn’t hers any more.
‘You have a nice house,’ said the inspector. His tone was cool, official, but there was a hint of something else in it, as if he was questioning how they could afford such a big place.
She entered the kitchen and stared at Alek’s baby drawings on the wall, which Sean had framed so beautifully and simply, in black wood with a thick white border. A lump formed fast in her throat.
Had he done something stupid?
Why would the police be here if he was innocent?
Her fingers felt icy. She hadn’t noticed the cold when she was outside, adrenaline must have been warming her up, but now she was back in the house, and with the police here, they felt frozen.
There was a picture of her on a cork notice board on the kitchen wall, from the time before Alek had been born. She looked pale, smiling tentatively. Sean had been so concerned about her back then. She sat in the green wicker chair at the end of the kitchen table. It was a giant well-worn table, the type they had in the kitchens of big old English country houses. And now a policeman was sitting at it with her. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands. She must have looked stupid, or mad. But she didn’t care. Inspector Kirby sat, leaning over his notebook. She forced herself to breathe. They hadn’t told her he had done anything wrong. Not yet.
The pastor was spread-eagled on the steel bed. There was a gag in his mouth. He was naked. His eyes were wide open. He’d been hours in that position.
Xena had persuaded him once again to allow her to put handcuffs on him, but now he was definitely regretting it. She hadn’t been in the room for a long time. And she hadn’t left him like this the first time they had done it. Lord Bidoner had told him she was a bonus for him then, but he was starting not to like it.
If this was some technique of hers, it wasn’t doing anything for him.
What time was it, he wondered. Martha would be going mad. He hadn’t told her where he was going or what he was doing.
As if he could.
He tried to break the handcuffs again, pulled at them hard, but they were too strong.
That thought worried him. And his heart started beating faster again. He should have taken his medication before he came out. All this excitement would not be good for him.
He thought about shouting for Lord Bidoner, but he decided to wait a little longer. She had to come back soon to release him. He had things to do in New York.
He shivered. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Lord Bidoner that he had discussed anything they were doing with his family. Hadn’t he heard him rant after he found out what had happened in Jerusalem?
He listened.
The door to the room opened. In walked Xena. Pastor Stevson began grunting. He couldn’t speak properly, because of the gag, but it was clear he was appealing to be let free.
And then his eyes widened some more. She was naked. And the snake tattoo around her thigh rippled as she walked towards him. This was getting interesting again.
What was she going to do?
She leaned towards him, rested her hand on his big white belly.
‘Secunda quattuor invocare unum,’ she whispered.
That was when he felt something cold and sharp touch his belly.
‘What’s all this about, Inspector?’ She tried to sound collected. The hesitation in her voice didn’t help though.
Inspector Kirby was holding a silver pen as if it were a baton, and he was about to conduct an orchestra.
‘We don’t want to alarm you, Mrs Ryan, but we need to speak to your husband, urgently.’
‘That makes two of us, at least.’
He smiled.
‘Has he done something wrong?’ She dreaded the answer, shifted her body back a little, as if it was a blow she was expecting.
The inspector shrugged, noncommittally.
‘I don’t know, Mrs Ryan. We believe he has information that could help us with our enquiries.’
She let out her breath.
‘What enquiries?’
‘I work for the City of London Financial Crime Unit. We’re investigating activities at BXH.’
‘What activities?’
‘I am not at liberty to discuss that. Let’s just say our investigations, since the eurozone crisis, now cover the management and the supervision of all financial institutions.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘I’m not here to defend or describe our investigations, Mrs Ryan. But we do have the power to carry