Page 52 of The Final Vow (Washington Poe #7)

Poe’s immediate thought on being abducted in broad daylight was that he’d unwittingly stumbled into a police operation.

Maybe something to do with county lines, the term for organised criminal groups moving drugs from big cities to smaller towns and rural areas.

But Alastor Locke’s appearance meant he hadn’t stumbled into a police operation; he’d stumbled into a security services operation.

Poe wasn’t big on coincidences. He didn’t think they were God’s way of staying anonymous.

He thought coincidences were best left to the authors of bad fiction.

Poe was more in Doctor Theodore Woodward’s camp – when you hear hoofbeats, think horses not zebras.

Poe had chased down a suspect to a small estate in a small town in North Yorkshire, and the security services happened to be running an operation there? He didn’t think so.

‘Ezekiel Puck is one of yours, isn’t he?’ he said.

‘Your timing is as impeccable as ever, Sergeant Poe,’ Locke said. ‘I was having lunch with the Home Secretary when I was told someone was creeping around Ezekiel’s house. Have you met her?’

‘No, Alastor, I haven’t met the Home Secretary.’

‘She’s the most loathsome woman. Always serves salad for lunch.’

Poe said nothing. He hadn’t voted for the Home Secretary’s party and now he knew she served salad to her guests, he never would.

‘Anyway, as you might have gathered,’ Locke continued, ‘we’ve been watching the house belonging to the man you know as Ezekiel Puck.’

‘Is he the sniper?’ Poe said. He’d found direct questions worked best with Alastor Locke. Closed, not open. Locke was the slipperiest bastard Poe had ever met.

Locke nodded. ‘We think so.’

‘Think so?’

‘Yes, he is.’

Poe was surprised. He’d expected an outright denial. At best, pontification. But Locke hadn’t denied it. He’d said yes. Right out of the blocks. Poe shook his head in disgust. ‘Then you’re just as culpable as him.’

‘Please explain.’

‘If you’d told us who it was from the start, we might have been able to stop this. Instead, you’ve had us chasing down every stupid clue, the most obscure leads.’

‘Yes, I gather you make a very fetching Doctor Who, Poe.’

Poe started to get out of his seat. Fists clenched.

‘Calm down, Poe,’ Locke said evenly. ‘We didn’t know it was Ezekiel Puck. Of course, we didn’t.’

Poe sat back down. Gathered his thoughts.

Locke was making sense. He might even be telling the truth.

If the security services had known who the sniper was, it would have been dealt with internally.

MI5 would have located Puck, then when executive action was needed, one of the police Special Branches would have taken over.

Still, something wasn’t adding up. He didn’t think Locke was lying, but he wasn’t telling him the truth about everything.

That wasn’t unusual for him. Poe reckoned the sin of omission was part of Locke’s daily routine.

He’d probably been withholding information since Nanny had been stirring salt into his porridge.

‘When did you find out?’

‘When Miss Bradshaw put her list of role-playing game enthusiasts through one of our databases, a database she had no authorisation to access, I may add.’ He shook his head in admiration.

‘That woman costs this country a small fortune. Every time our IT departments beef up their security, she just waltzes right in again.’

‘Alastor.’

‘Ah yes, where was I?’ Locke said. ‘Anyway, the name Ezekiel Puck isn’t on any of our databases, but it did raise an alert. And I’ve got to tell you, Poe, it’s a name I hoped never to hear again.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Ezekiel Puck doesn’t exist. It’s a codename.’

‘A codename for who?’

‘For one of the most dangerous men this country has ever produced.’