‘Take that miserable look off your face,’ said Chloe.
Theo sank down in the threadbare armchair at the back of the coffee shop and glowered at the world around him. They were in a gloomy dive near Clapham Common. Chloe had brought them here in a taxi from St James’s Park, and Theo had sat agog at the sheer size of the city around him.
‘Just relax.’ Chloe smiled, throwing her big navy greatcoat on to a sofa with her bag. ‘Things are looking up. Wait here and I’ll get you a coffee.’
‘Are you stark staring crazy?’ Theo blurted out. ‘Just get me some water. Oh, and see if they’ve got pink cake.’
‘I get it – coffee is bad for you, and so is smiling and so is trusting people.’
‘The police aren’t just people,’ Theo said. ‘I know all about them. They’ve invented this thing called the Law. It can decide who is good and bad, and – get this – it can put you in a prison.’
‘Well, you’re used to that,’ Chloe replied, heading off.
She isn’t the Chloe I thought she was, Theo said to himself. She’s tricky. He peered around. A young couple in fashionable clothes were laughing and joking at a table by the window. Theo scowled.
‘Seen someone you know?’ teased Chloe, returning with a heavily laden tray. ‘Aha, here’s Mike now!’
A tall, skinny man with narrow eyes and a tiny moustache stepped into the café, looking around nervously. He seemed older than Chloe but younger than Dr Saint. He wore a lumpy brown suede jacket and super-shiny shoes. Theo smiled at the ugly jacket, but there was a hint of Empire Hall about those shoes. Theo realised now that smartness depressed him.
‘Who’s this?’ the man asked, diving into an armchair next to Chloe.
‘Luke Anderson,’ Chloe said.
‘Your friend who had the stuff nicked?’
‘Yes. Luke, this is Mike –’ Chloe lowered her voice to a whisper – ‘Sergeant Crane.’ The policeman went to shake hands but saw that Theo was sitting on his. Theo wasn’t surprised to see that Crane readily accepted a large coffee nudged towards him by Chloe. The Brown Death, Theo noted to himself.
‘Well, I’ve found Foley for you,’ Crane said. ‘Male, Caucasian, seventy-two. Professional safecracker and housebreaker, semi-retired, especially since they brought all that new technology in. Three stretches inside. No GBH, nothing hard core. He’s just a pathetic weasel. Now a pathetic old weasel. Had a younger partner, last we heard. Brady. Now he’s got serious form. Thirty-something, shaven head. Don’t go anywhere near him.’
We won’t, thought Theo.
‘So where can we find Foley?’ Chloe asked.
‘Can we speak in front of him?’ the sergeant asked, glancing at Theo.
‘Yes,’ said Chloe. ‘Luke knows everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Ask him about Post-Diluvian extinctions,’ suggested Chloe.
Crane pulled a face. ‘What are you up to?’ he asked.
‘Ongoing investigation, sir,’ she said.
‘Investigation into how to bleed my department of funds for two years and produce nothing in return,’ Crane said, glancing around the room.
‘It’s called deep cover,’ Chloe said, a little frown knitting fine lines in her brow. ‘I’m being accepted, getting to know all these secret societies, before we assemble our case. I wouldn’t be meeting you if it wasn’t for all this smog and the fact that you insisted.’
Theo frowned. Was Chloe telling the truth? Had she really become involved with the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance simply to get evidence for her police case? Or was she just telling Crane that to keep him happy? Chloe’s fondness for weaving tales made his head spin. Was this what people in the outside world did all the time? No wonder he was always getting confused about what was real and what wasn’t.
‘I have to tell the boss I’ve actually seen you,’ Crane was saying uncomfortably.
‘How is our boss? I miss him,’ Chloe commented.
‘Oh, Finley. He’s never been happier. Just won some cream cake competition, lucky so and so. Face never out of a bun.’
‘Delightful,’ Chloe groaned.
‘It’s like this, Chlo’,’ Crane said, draining his cup. ‘I’m going to need some results soon, or the department will just kill the whole case.’ Crane sounded more anxious than angry.
‘Give me Foley then,’ Chloe said.
Theo held his breath as he heard the slow footsteps clump up the stairs. It had been a simple matter for Chloe to force the cheap lock of this dingy one-room flat, and now they waited in the darkness for their quarry to arrive.
The door was shoved open and the old man entered. Flicking a switch on the wall, he cursed when the light failed to come on. Muttering, he felt his way towards the kitchen area and bent down to rummage around in a cupboard under the sink.
‘Police!’ Chloe shouted.
‘Ow!’ The man leapt up, cracked his head on a hanging saucepan, and staggered forwards into the room. He tripped over a coffee table and landed in a heap on the carpet.
Theo and Chloe were sitting side by side on the sofa. The street lights outside the tatty curtains threw just enough light to cloak them both in shadow. That was how Chloe had planned it.
‘Special Detective Cripps,’ Chloe said, using a lighter to reveal a glimpse of her identity card. ‘We just want to ask you a couple of questions.’
Foley pushed himself up from the floor and sat kneeling, still rubbing his head.
‘How did you get in here? Why all the cloak and dagger stuff?’ he asked, trying to sound defiant.
‘Door was open, light’s on the blink,’ said Chloe, fingering the bulb she had pushed deep into her coat pocket. ‘Didn’t think you’d mind.’
Foley stood up shakily.
‘I’m not answering nothing. It’s all highly irregular!’ he moaned.
‘Cooperate with us,’ Chloe said, ‘and we might be lenient over the Empire Hall job.’
‘Em – Empire Hall?’ stammered the old man. He was blustering but sounded ready to crack. ‘That wasn’t me! Now you get out of here!’
‘I was there, Mr Foley,’ said Theo quietly.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Chloe calmly held her lighter under Theo’s face so Foley could recognise him by the single yellow flame.
‘It – it’s Weirdy!’ Foley gasped, and fell back to his knees. ‘Don’t – don’t let him near me!’
Chloe glanced at Theo. ‘You obviously made a big impression.’
‘It’s, err … nice to see you again,’ said Theo politely.
‘Have you come for me?’ Foley asked Theo in a shaking voice. ‘Is it my – my time?’ he quavered.
‘It will be your time if you don’t pull yourself together,’ Chloe snapped, helping Foley into a chair. ‘Do you need a drink?’
‘Yes, yes,’ rambled the old man, staring at the dark shape of Theo. ‘My – my last drink!’
Chloe sighed. Her eyes had long ago adjusted to the gloom and she soon found a bottle of Foley’s favourite tipple. The haggard, terrified figure knocked back a quick glass before looking up at Theo with imploring eyes.
‘I knew you’d find me. The legend says there’s no escape. I’ve pretty much just sat here waiting for you. You’re not going to do that thing to me, are you?’ he sobbed.
Chloe looked at Theo with new respect. Somehow he had inspired dread in this cynical old villain.
‘I want you to tell me what you know about the Candle Man,’ said Theo.