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Back Rabbit Hole Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Rabbit Hole
  2. Also by Mark Billingham
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Preface
  8. PART ONE
  9. ONE
  10. TWO
  11. THREE
  12. FOUR
  13. FIVE
  14. SIX
  15. SEVEN
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. PART TWO
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. FIFTY
  60. FIFTY-ONE
  61. FIFTY-TWO
  62. FIFTY-THREE
  63. FIFTY-FOUR
  64. FIFTY-FIVE
  65. FIFTY-SIX
  66. FIFTY-SEVEN
  67. FIFTY-EIGHT
  68. PART THREE
  69. FIFTY-NINE
  70. SIXTY
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  73. Back Cover

I scraped harder at the paint around the crack. I picked at it until my fingernail split and rubbed the blood into the dirty yellow paint.

‘You’d need to pay him, obviously.’

‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Look . . . give me five minutes. I need to pull over. I’ll send you a link to his website.’

‘He’s got a website?’

‘Like I said, he does all sorts. Some of it’s kosher, but I’m fairly sure that some of it . . . isn’t.’

Ten minutes later, he texted me a link and I got straight online.

The Pindown Investigations (stupid name) website was fairly impressive, no denying it. Some tasty pictures of fast cars and binoculars and computers. All manner of stuff banging on about the wide range of services on offer and the excellent value for money they were able to provide.

Covert surveillance, employee vetting, mystery shopping (whatever that was). These activities were – so they promised – tailored to a client’s requirements and ‘guaranteed to exceed expectation’. It was handy that I couldn’t find the word ethical anywhere, but unorthodox popped up quite a few times which was nice to see. The fact that it didn’t say that they were members of the Association of British Investigators was another good sign, and after a few minutes’ digging I found the bit that said they would be more than happy to discuss my particular requirements and provide a bespoke service.

Bespoke was good. I loved the sound of bespoke.

Get in touch, they said. Tell us what you need. We can assure you of absolute confidentiality.

Confidentiality was nice, obviously – like a bonus – but I didn’t think it was going to matter much in the end. Once I’d got the intel I needed and you-know-who was being pulled apart in an interview room, all bets would be off anyway, and by the time charges were being pressed nobody would care one way or the other how I’d got the information.

It was all about the result.

I sucked the blood from my finger and fired off an email.

Then I went to get my dinner.

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-EIGHT

It was one of the best nights ever in the TV room, though for the life of me I couldn’t tell you what everyone was watching, because I wasn’t really paying attention. Not to the TV, anyway. I’d got in early to bag a VIP seat next to Lady Lauren up the front and sat there, happy as Larry, while she got more and more pissed off because I was wearing my headphones. I wasn’t listening to anything, obviously, so I could hear the TV perfectly well, but I just sat nodding my head like I was well into my tunes and really enjoying myself because I knew it was winding her up.

You’ve got to have a hobby, right?