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seen by anyone.’

‘Any reason?’ Bullman was now stretching her shoulders, shaking some life back into them.

‘What, apart from me not trusting anyone in there and all my friends are on the run?’ Anjli almost laughed. ‘Currently, the only person I trust is you, Ma’am.’

“Well, that’s reassuring,’ Bullman looked up at the building they were now standing outside of. At the junction of Whitehall Place and Whitehall Court, it was an opulent, white brick neo-gothic building that merged with the surrounding offices and hotels seamlessly, with the corner entrance an elaborate arch over a double wood and glass doorway. A brass plaque to the left of it read

NATIONAL LIBERAL CLUB

‘Is he okay?’ she asked quietly.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Monroe,’ Bullman continued. ‘I’m guessing you’ve been in touch with him.’

Anjli shook her head. ‘I’ve got an idea where he is, but I’ve not seen or heard from him since he awoke.’

‘Is that normal?’ Bullman watched Anjli, who shrugged.

‘To be honest, nothing we’re doing right now is normal.’

‘And what are we doing here?’

‘We’re seeing a friend,’ Anjli replied. ‘Well, not a friend, but a friendly. And it’s not technically about Monroe’s attack, so I didn’t want to mention it until we arrived.’

‘Of course,’ Bullman replied as Anjli walked to the right-hand side door, pulling it open. ‘I mean, I’ve worked with your boss and your Divisional Surgeon before, how could I assume that you’d be any different?’

Entering through the doors, they turned to the left where, in an alcove marked ‘Enquiries’, an ornate clock above it, was the doorman, currently behind a chest-high counter.

‘Is Anthony Farringdon in?’ Anjli showed her warrant card. ‘We were hoping to have a chat.’

‘He’s upstairs in the bar,’ the doorman replied. ‘I could check?’

‘Please,’ Anjli smiled her most winning smile. ‘DS Kapoor and DCI Bullman.’

‘And Anthony Farringdon is?’ Bullman asked as the doorman moved to his phone, calling upstairs.

‘He worked at Westminster for years,’ Anjli explained. ‘Amazing memory, knows everything. He helped us with the Victoria Davies murder, and I’m hoping he can answer some questions about the Star Chamber.’

‘The what Chamber?’

Anjli grimaced. ‘Ah yeah, I forgot you wouldn’t know.’

‘Mister Farringdon will see you now,’ the doorman smiled, placing the phone back on its cradle. Anjli smiled back and with Bullman following walked towards the end of the entranceway where the hallway opened into a large rotunda, a huge spiral staircase that ran along the white marbled wall in front of them, an ornate marble bannister circling up alongside as it rose towards a beautifully designed glass ceiling.

‘I’ve been here before,’ Bullman said as they started up the stairs. ‘Sherlock Holmes Society thing. I was a guest speaker.’

‘Really?’ Anjli was delighted at this. ‘I’m a member of that—‘

‘Hated every second,’ Bullman replied, effectively killing the potential bonding session. ‘So. Tell me about the Star Chamber.’

Billy sat at his desk, alone in the office. He was alone because everyone else was outside, watching Bradbury hold some kind of press conference that was live on BBC News. Billy knew this because he was watching it on the screen. Behind Bradbury, Sutcliffe could be seen to the side, watching him like a bodyguard.

‘I repeat, we do not believe that Mister Walsh is a dangerous man, but suggest that anyone who sees him contact the police immediately,’ Bradbury was saying. ‘We do not know if they radicalised him before or after joining the police—‘

Billy turned off the browser, effectively ending the video. Bradbury was just like the others, already convinced that Declan was the villain here. The actual thought of doing any police work was forgotten. Even Anjli and Bullman were elsewhere, working on what was more likely to be a far more interesting case.

But what Billy was doing was important. He was solving a heinous crime.

He looked to his notebook, open on the desk where written at the top of the page was the note that Kendis had on her when she died.

TOTTERS LANE

FOB C

What did it mean? Totters Lane was a small Shoreditch street that’s only claim to fame was that it was wiped out during a German bombing raid in World War Two. But as for the other…

Reaching over to his jacket, he pulled it open, revealing the extendable baton that he’d taken from the floor of Declan’s house. It looked so unobtrusive there, but Billy knew that someone looking like Declan had beaten Monroe with such a weapon.

Grabbing a clear bag from his desk, he wrapped the plastic around the handle and pulled it out of his jacket pocket. It measured about two feet, with a handle of around eleven inches. Carefully placing it in an envelope, Billy sealed it up, writing a name on it. This done, he rose from the desk, grabbing his coat.

It was time to put things in motion.

21

Chamber Of Stars

Anthony Farringdon was in his usual spot in the upstairs bar; a high-ceilinged room, with red marble pillars running along each side, the space between each one either filled with the green wallpaper of the wall, or revealing a floor to ceiling bay window complete with green drapery. Glass fronted mahogany trophy cabinets were beside several of the pillars, and beside a bust of William Gladstone was a low table with three dark green leather armchairs, one of which currently held Farringdon as he rose to greet his guests. Wearing the same military blazer that he wore the last time he met Anjli, buttoned over a pair of dark trousers, white shirt and military tie in a Windsor knot, Farringdon was better dressed than either of the detectives that faced him, his white hair neatly parted to the right.

‘DS Kapoor,’ he smiled, offering his hand to shake. ‘And you are…’

‘DCI Bullman,’ she replied as she also shook Farringdon’s hand. He indicated for them to sit, and they did so.

‘Can I offer you a drink?’ he asked, waving to a server.

‘Water, please,’ Anjli replied to the server who, looking to Bullman, noted her nod in agreement, before leaving.

‘I’ve seen your man Walsh is

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