But he had really. Had known Lady Di Taverner would cause bad things to happen. You couldn’t walk around with the kind of knowledge Benny had been carrying and not expect ramifications.

My man—Mr. Four-Storey—he had a few crafty souvenirs, didn’t he?

H.R.H. If you’ll pardon the abbreviation . . .

John remembered that feeling he’d had of being with friends, walking through Holborn with Benny and Daisy, and closed his eyes. Never friends. Never friends. They’d all wanted something from the others.

And then Benny was laughing: a manic chuckle. John pictured it escaping through broken teeth and swollen lips.

“You really thought that was it, didn’t you? The one and only. You fucking idiot.”

“. . . Benny?”

“Why’d you think I told you that? You think I wasn’t expecting your pals to show up?”

“I didn’t know, Benny. I didn’t know they were coming.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“. . . How’s Daisy?”

“How’s Daisy? Daisy’s battered, isn’t she? Face like an overripe melon. Still, she’s feeling better about things than you are.”

“What do you mean, Benny? What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I was expecting your pals to show up. And that was the clincher, wasn’t it? Daisy getting a battering too, that was the cherry on top.” He paused, and John heard a fizzing sound, a cigarette being lit. “No editor in the world’s gonna take that lying down, are they? Someone smashes your reporter’s face in—spook heavies smash your reporter’s face in—stands to reason you’ve a story on your hands. A real live breathing story. Your lot think they stole the proof when they took my memory stick.” Another pause for inhalation. “But that was a copy, John. I’m not a fucking fool.”

“That’s why you kept me drinking.”

“Well it wasn’t for your company, was it?”

John shook his head, though he couldn’t have said why.

“So it’s a happy pay day for me, and fuck you, John Bachelor. I imagine your bosses are ready to dump on you good and hard.”

He didn’t want to ask why, because he suspected he already knew.

“Go look at the papers, John. All of them are running it now. Every last one.”

“Benny—”

“Bye bye, milkman.”

And Benny laughed again, that same broken chuckle, though there was genuine mirth in it, John could tell. And it continued bouncing round his head long after the call had ended.