Tell the Truth, Shame the Devil(109)

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“Manoshi, Fionn, and Lola have gone missing from the f*cking hospital.”

Bish stared in alarm at Bee, who was looking over his shoulder to avoid eye contact, he presumed.

He covered the phone so Grazier couldn’t hear. “Bee, what’s going on?”

Before she could answer, someone pulled up a chair and sat beside him.

“I’ll get back to you, Grazier,” Bish said, looking from Bee to Violette. “Trust me.”

Violette was thinner in the face and the dark circles under her eyes were prominent. But she seemed less fierce. Even relaxed.

“I need you to come with us, Chief Inspector Ortley,” she said. “We mightn’t be terror suspects anymore, but we’ve got a better chance of getting up to Yorkshire with you. I want to show Eddie where our father died. It’s part of why I came over here, and I’m not going back without doing that.”

Driving a bus of explosives through a convent school in France seemed so simple compared to dealing with Violette LeBrac Zidane.

“Where’s Eddie? And the others?” He wanted a response that didn’t involve a felony.

Violette and Bee seemed to have taken a vow of silence.

“They’re injured,” he said. “They can’t be out of the hospital.”

“It’s not as if they’re still on the critical list,” Bee scoffed. “They’re off drips and eating solids and bored to death.”

“Look,” Violette said, “it was only supposed to be Fionn, but Lola and Manoshi caught on and decided they were coming along or it would be hashtag we-know-where-Fionn’s-gone.”

Bee shook her head in disgust. “Whose stupid idea was it to put those two together again?”

It was Bish’s turn to stay silent.

“And the thing with Fionn is his mother,” Violette said. “He needs to see her.”

“We thought we’d kill two birds with one stone.”

He stared from one to the other. He didn’t like all this bird death with little promise of success.

“We’ll be back down south by nine tonight,” Bee said. “Win-win.”

“And all you have to do is tell anyone who rings that they can trust you,” Violette said.

“Noor’s not going to like your plan, Violette.”

“Noor?” she said, hostility suddenly in her voice. “We’re on first-name terms, are we?”

“Yes, we’ve bonded over your being the star of social media and CCTV for the past couple of weeks, Violette.”

Her eyes narrowed even more.

“How’s Eddie taking everything?” he asked, reminding himself that he was the adult here.

“Did you see the graffiti on the news?” she asked. “Someone wrote Eddie Bin Lardin leaves hear on his cottage wall. Can’t even spell. Frickin’ dumb people give me the shits.”

“Same,” Bee said.

Bish nodded. Same.

“So where are they?” he asked as Bee put money on the table and stood up. “How the hell did you get Fionn into a car?”

Sighing from his companions, as if Bish were an idiot for asking too many questions.

A long car horn sounded loudly from the road.

“In that,” Violette said.

“What?” he asked.

“We got him out of hospital in that.” She was pointing to the Salvation Army twelve-seater with wheelchair access that had just pulled up. Lola, Manoshi, Fionn, and Eddie waved ecstatically from the back seats.

Bish stumbled to his feet. Bee and Violette followed him to the van.

Charlie Crombie poked his head out of the driver’s window. “He’s not driving.”



That was how Bish found himself riding shotgun to Charlie Crombie on the road to Yorkshire with a carload of kids who should have been in school or in hospital. The upside was that Lola’s and Manoshi’s fathers finally found something to unite them: their desire to have Bish arrested on a string of charges. Katherine and Sadia were only slightly more forgiving.

“Have you lost your mind, Bish?” Katherine had asked when Lola passed him her phone. “Ian’s called the police. You do know that?”

“They are sick children,” Sadia said. He could tell he was on speakerphone.

“I think they’re sick of being sick children,” he said. “And they were heading north regardless of whether I came with them or not. Would you rather I’d let them go on their own?”

“I’m calling your mother,” Sadia said.

Bish rang Grazier and waited for the swear fest to end before he spoke. “You’re a heart attack waiting to happen, Grazier.” Now he was reduced to channeling Sarraf.

“Turn the bus around and bring them back,” Grazier ordered.

“I don’t have access to the keys. Charlie won’t relinquish them for the time being.” Charlie shot him a look that said he was never going to relinquish them. “I’ll have the kids back at the hospital tonight,” Bish said. “Meanwhile, keep the media away from this. Call off whatever police Ian Parker’s got on board. No roadblocks. No car chase.”

“I’m up for a car chase,” Charlie said.

Grazier swore again. “Where are you heading?”