I find Maughan’s upstairs bathroom. First, working on the assumption that whatever he slipped me won’t have fully broken down or been absorbed through my digestive tract, I force myself to throw up. It’s a grim process, and I’m not convinced it’ll do any good, but I spend a wretched few minutes with my fingers lodged halfway down my throat. That delightful interlude over, I drink far more cold water than I’ve consumed over the past six months combined. Finally, I splash some onto my face and, out of everything, this last action seems to help the most.
I stride through to the study and make a call, finally getting through to Jeremy Simmonds. He doesn’t sound ecstatic to hear from me. ‘My God, Novak! What the hell have you done this time?’
‘I just killed a priest.’
‘Catholic or Church of England?’
‘I think you’re missing the bigger picture.’
‘Simply trying to establish what the picture is.’
‘C of E.’
‘Oh.’ Simmonds makes a tutting noise, but I can’t discern whether this strikes him as good or bad news. ‘Are you in public? Did anyone see you?’
‘I’m at his vicarage and no one witnessed the’ – I glance down at the bloody corpse – ‘altercation.’
‘Altercation? Right. Is anyone with you now?’
‘Only the dearly departed. The Reverend Thomas Maughan. Currently lying eyeless in Gaza.’
‘You’re in Palestine? Christ! What the—’
‘No!’ I interrupt. ‘Eyeless in Gaza. It’s a quotation.’
‘Yes, I know my Milton, thank you. Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves / Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke. I didn’t think that would be your cup of Earl Grey.’ He sighs like he’s the one who’s been half-strangled by a homicidal vicar. ‘Right then! Let’s get on with it. What happened?’
I give him a recap of my day so far and, to be fair, he listens attentively, only interrupting with moues of disappointment and disdain. A moment of silence follows my précis.
‘And are you certain he’s dead?’
‘Simmonds, I drove a crucifix into his brain. Trust me, he won’t be taking evensong.’
‘First things first. Remove any trace of your presence at the vicarage. You won’t have time to wipe your prints, but don’t leave anything there that could identify you.’
I roll my eyes. ‘That’s brilliant advice. I’ll take my business card off the mantelpiece. Look, can you actually help me?’
‘Of course!’ He sounds stung. ‘You’re one of our own. I’ll do everything I can to extricate you.’
I’m certainly not one of his own and feel a little queasy that he considers I might be, but this isn’t the time to quarrel about it. I manage a half-hearted, ‘Thank you.’
‘Not at all, not at all. Listen to me carefully, Novak. And, for once, follow my instructions to the letter. Get out of there, now! I can send a team round to take care of the situation, but I can’t intervene if the police arrest you. The Fifth Floor is very clear that we’re not to get involved with the boys in blue unless absolutely necessary.’
‘I’d have thought me not ending up in Wormwood Scrubs qualifies as absolutely necessary.’
Simmonds’ voice hardens. ‘If the police take you in, you’re on your own.’
‘Understood.’
‘Good. So leave now and contact me again on the Apex line when you’re back in London.’
‘Will do.’
‘I’ll ensure you were never there.’
‘Thanks, again, Simmonds.’
‘One last thing, Novak. I mean it when I say get out of there now. Straight away. This instant. It’s far too dangerous to hang around.’
‘Understood.’
‘Do not linger in order to explore, investigate or find out more about Thomas Maughan.’
‘Of course not. I’m leaving as we speak.’
I hang up, walk towards the master bedroom, check my watch and allow myself a quarter of an hour to explore, investigate and find out more about Thomas Maughan.