âBut if you know all this,' said Deacon suspiciously, âI'm presuming that's not what happened.'
Daniel shook his head. âEvie had no idea what Dev was up to. Neither had Tarar. When Brodie caught up with them at the airstrip and told them, Evie insisted on coming
back to face the music; and even if she hadn't, Tarar wasn't leaving his son to the mercy of a marksman. They arrived at the construction site just as you and Dev were leaving, and followed you into town.'
So far Deacon had managed to stay abreast of the story. âSo what were
you
doing in Battle Alley?'
Daniel gave a shy little smile. âCharlie and I were at the house in Romney Road. We opened the bag, and when it was heroin we realised DI Salmon had been wrong about Daoud. Or not wrong but out of date. And if he wasn't involved in terrorism any more, there was no reason to suppose anyone else in Dimmock was either. When it turned out he'd gone back to lining his pockets with drug money, the whole house of cards collapsed.'
âThere was no bomb plot,' said Deacon flatly, trying to get his head round it. âIt wasn't just that Stretton had no part in it â there never was a plot.'
âAs far as we can work out,' agreed Daniel apologetically.
âWe got it wrong.'
âPerhaps you got it wrong. But what you did was right when all the evidence pointed that way. If you'd hesitated and there
had
been a conspiracy to bomb Dimmock, scores of people could have died. And that wouldn't have been your fault either, but you'd have felt a lot worse about it.'
âThe town's been in uproar for three days. People
will
have died. The inquests won't record the cause of death as police error, but they'd still be alive if we'd got it right.' Deacon shook his head angrily. âOn top of that, we've thrown fuel on a situation that was smouldering so quietly it might have gone out before it ever caused a problem.
We've given the white people of this town reason to fear and mistrust the Asians, and the Asians reason to fear and mistrust the whites. Quite an achievement for three days' work! God knows when
that
nasty little worm will raise its head again.'
Daniel didn't believe in God. He did believe in people. âJack, nobody comes out of this with much to be proud of. At least your mistake was an honest one. The people who crowded into Battle Alley intent on defending their own rights so vigorously it required petrol bombs have a damn sight more to be ashamed of. You may find that once everything's calmed down it's in everyone's best interests to shut up about what happened. You may find people being especially polite to one another rather than risk anything like it happening again.
âWe were all swept up in the maelstrom of our own prejudices, saw the dangers we expected to see. The horrors we found in the woodshed were the ones we'd taken there, and that goes as much for the people of Romney Road as for anyone else. People can't be forced into factions â they have to choose them.'
He gave a wry little snort. âThe only one who managed to stay above the sectarianism was Dev Stretton. We' â Deacon knew that actually he meant
you
â âthought he was part of a bomb plot because his father's Pakistani. But the Pakistanis thought he was just another white boy causing trouble for them. That petrol bomb you got in the way of was meant for him. But even knowing that doesn't tell us who threw it.'
âWhat's the situation now?'
âCalm. The roads are getting back to normal. You can get pretty well anywhere you need to. The street cleaners will have their work cut out for a few days, then there won't be much to show for it. Except â¦' He glanced discreetly at Deacon's posterior.
About then the casualty officer came to have another smirk at it and Daniel left. Deacon shouted after him, âWhere's Brodie?'
And Daniel called back, âShe'll be along soon.'
Â
By the time Deacon had been transferred, still prone, to a ward she'd arrived. She pulled up a chair to where he could see her. She looked tired. âHow are you feeling?'
âStupid,' grunted Deacon. âA bit sore. Nothing killing.' He squinted at her. âYou did it again, didn't you?'
Brodie purported not to understand. âSorry?'
âWorked it out before I did.'
She had the grace to demur. âI had less to worry about. I was just trying to make sense of the bit we'd got involved in â Joe Loomis and the Stretton family. When you stripped away all the trimmings, what was left made no sense until we tried forgetting that Joe was a thug. Most people who get murdered aren't gangsters. Most killings take place within a fairly tight social circle â family and friends. Joe didn't have much of a social life, but it turned out he did have a daughter.'
Deacon blew his cheeks out. âWhat a mess! Why in God's name didn't she just come to us? He scared the living bejasus out of her. He pulled a knife! She was entitled to defend herself.'
Brodie shrugged. âYou know that, I know that. She's a twenty-year-old girl who'd just stabbed the father she'd spent six months tracking down. She panicked. And all Faith â and later Dev â could think about was protecting her.'
âThey almost cost us our town!'
âThey didn't mean to. Dev just wanted to distract you long enough to let his sister get away.'
âInstead of which the whole bloody family's going down,' he snarled vindictively. âServe them bloody right.'
âYou're still cross,' observed Brodie â a world-class understatement. âYou'll feel less bitter when your bottom's not so sore.'
He curled his lip, mostly from habit. Then something occurred to him. âNext time you come, bring Jonathan.'
At once, by the shadow that crossed her eyes, he knew something was wrong. âActually, he's here. Upstairs.'
Instantly, all awareness of his own injuries fled. âPaediatrics? What's happened?'
âThey're telling me not to worry,' said Brodie quickly. âThey're telling me it's not uncommon in small children, and almost never as serious as it looks.'
âWhat isn't?'
âConvulsions.' Brodie swallowed. âI left him with Marta when I went to see Faith. He'd been a bit restless the previous night but he seemed fine by then. Marta says he was fine, until all at once he wasn't. He was twitching and jerking all over the place. She called for an ambulance. It couldn't get through â the paramedics did the last half mile on foot.
âBy the time they got there the fit was over. He was lying peaceably in his cot as if nothing had happened. Marta thought they'd think she'd made it up, but they didn't. They asked â¦' Her voice cracked on half a sob, half a desperate laugh. âThey asked if he'd been rolling his eyes. When Marta told them his history, they bundled him up in a blanket and carried him back to the ambulance, and she and Paddy went with them.'
âAnd what are they saying now? What's the problem?' Deacon didn't want to say the words for fear of what the answer would be.
Brodie reassured him as best she could. âThey're saying it's probably nothing to do with the retinoblastoma. They say infantile convulsions are usually caused by a fever in the early stages of an infection â you deal with the infection and with luck you never see the convulsions again.'
âThat's what they're doing upstairs â treating him for an infection?'
âYes.'
âIs it working?'
Brodie shrugged. âHe hasn't had another fit. But then, he only got here about the same time you did.'
âYou shouldn't â¦' She looked tired, and fraught, and afraid, and right now she didn't need to be dealing with criticism, justified or not. Deacon smothered the statement half-born. But his eyes finished it.
You shouldn't have left him with Marta. You're his mother: you should have been with him when this happened!
Brodie heard it just the same, and flinched.
You think I'd have left him for a minute if I'd thought this was going to happen?
asked her gaze brokenly.
Marta did all the right things
â
there was nothing more I could have done if I'd been there. In spite of which, don't you think I'm beating myself up enough over the fact that I wasn't? Do you really think you need to put the boot in too?
Deacon cleared his throat. âYou shouldn't worry. I'm sure they're right and it's just a â blip. But, get back to him.'
She'd expected argument and recrimination. His uncharacteristic kindness drew a slow tear that slid to the end of Brodie's nose before falling. âI wanted to see you. To know you're all right.'
âI'm fine. Go look after our son.'