‘That’s what I thought.’ She retraced her steps to the window, pointing down at the street. ‘So who’s this guy?’

White came forwards, following her gaze to where the man in the parka stood, still glaring up at them.

‘Oh.’ The founder shrank away; apparently a subconscious, self-preserving action. He retreated so far that he had to crane his neck to study the observer. ‘I don’t know him, but … maybe I have seen him before.’

‘Where?’

White was silent for a moment, creases forming at the corners of his eyes. ‘The underground, a few days ago. Someone just like him got off at my stop.’

‘How sure are you that it’s the same person?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps eighty percent.’

‘Good enough for me. Did it happen near here?’

‘Yes. Oxford Circus.’

‘Could he have been following you?’

‘I don’t—’ White caught himself. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘What’s he doing here?’

White shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’

‘Fair enough.’ She looked at Chris. ‘Then we’ll go and ask him.’

39

Cold December air lashed at Hawkins, dusting her cheek with icy drizzle as she and Chris left the Paranormal Society headquarters.

‘Wait inside,’ she told White, who had hustled downstairs behind them, as he began closing the door. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

The founder agreed, and she turned towards the park.

Hawkins led off, temporarily unable to tell if the watcher was still there, thanks to the high-sided lorry with which she had purposely timed their exit.

At least this way they’d be closer when he realized they were coming.

The lights changed as they reached street level, and the vehicles at the front of the queue began to move. Hawkins entered the backlog, just managing to squeeze between bumpers before the concertina started opening up. But their wheeled camouflage was mercifully slow off the mark, and both detectives moved through its wake.

Hawkins emerged on to the far pavement first, expecting to lock eyes with their target no more than ten feet away. Hopefully too close for him to bolt.

She slowed, scanning the concrete island, locating the spot she’d memorized from upstairs. Within seconds her gaze was retracing its path, except it was already obvious why she couldn’t see their observer. They were standing exactly where he’d been.

He’d gone.

‘Shit.’ She whirled, probing the human traffic in the main square’s perimeter; a typical mix of London residents going about their business.

‘See him?’ she called to Chris over the screech of a scooter engine starting up beside them.

‘No,’ he shouted back.