The Memory of Blood

∨ The Memory of Blood ∧

18

Submerged

The air smelled cold and green. It amazed her how quickly the temperature fell as soon as you stepped out of the city’s brick corridors. The swimming pool had closed for the night. At over ninety metres, the expanse of aquamarine water was one of the largest pools in Europe. The Tooting Bee lido was more than a century old, but still proved popular with South Londoners who loved the setting: a row of brightly coloured cubicles stood like nutcracker guards between rippling water and towering plane trees.

Longbright arrived at the entrance and flashed her ID card to the cashier, who was locking up. “Yeah, I’m Donna,” said a dull-eyed girl who clearly spent her workdays researching hair care articles. “Why?”

“Do you know someone called Anna Marquand?”

“We went to school together. Has she done something wrong?”

“I’m afraid she was taken ill on Monday night.”

“But I saw her Monday.”

“That’s why I’m here. She died not long after she reached home.” Longbright explained the circumstances.

“I didn’t see her very often.” Donna stood with one arm suspended in her jacket, shocked into stillness. “We’d have a drink occasionally. She was seeing a guy who lived near here, some musician, but they broke up last year.”

“Did she ever use the lockers?”

Donna became embarrassed and hesitant. “She asked me if she could use one, just for a couple of weeks. Well, there’s hardly anyone here yet, it’s still a bit early in the season, so I said yes. They’re not for customers – the swimmers change in the cubicles. They’re for the staff, somewhere to keep our bags.”

“And you gave her a key for it. When was this?”

“The weekend before last.”

“Was there an address on the key ring?”

“Yeah, in case anyone takes it home by mistake they can post it back.”

“Do you mind if I take a look around?”

“No, go ahead. She was using number seven, just under the canopy round the other side of the pool.”

Longbright headed back towards the staff area. The sun had set and a cold breeze ruffled the darkening water. Crows cawed in the tall planes, bobbing on branches as they watched her pass.

The lockers were set in a grey wall beneath a steel roof canopy open to the elements. Only the unlocked doors stood ajar. Locker number 7 stood open and empty. She was too late.

But only just so. A scuff of dead leaves behind made her turn. A young scrub-bearded man in a black motorcycle jacket and jeans was standing in the deep shadow. Without warning, he threw himself at her, slamming her against the lockers. Longbright landed hard but quickly caught her breath. You can’t wind a woman who’s used to wearing a corset, pal, she thought, punching him hard in the stomach. He released air from his thorax and doubled, but quickly righted himself and set off along the edge of the pool.

She had almost caught up with him when he suddenly turned and tripped her over, catching her off balance and sending her into the cold chlorinated water. As she felt herself fall she grabbed out at him and seized a trouser leg, hauling him in with her. His hip cracked on the pool edge as he fell. He splashed down heavily on top of her, his weight pushing her to the bottom.

Longbright had had no time to take a breath. She kicked out and twisted around him, breaking to the surface, and gulped air. Moments later, his hand was on her head and pushing down hard. They were locked together, sinking into the deep end of the pool.

He kicked down at her, connecting with her thigh, but the volume of water between them prevented him from doing any real damage. But now she had no air left in her lungs and his right fist was firmly twisted into her hair. Her chest started to burn.

J wish I was wearing my heels, she thought, I’d perforate the bastard. Turning herself over, she brought up her knee and connected with his groin. The impact wasn’t as great as she’d hoped, but it was enough to make him momentarily release her.

She pushed away to the surface, swimming fiercely, and struck out for the side of the pool with him in pursuit. The concrete edge was wide enough to allow her purchase, but she knew that by the time she pulled herself out he would be on her again. Remembering her water polo days, she raised her body in the water, swung smoothly around and smashed her elbow into his throat.

It bought her enough time to reach the shallow end and she was able to climb the steps. She grabbed his jacket as he came close and dragged him up, but his clothes were slick and slipped beneath her fingers. Digging into his T-shirt she hauled him onto the side and went through his pockets, but found nothing.

“What did you take from her locker?” she demanded. “What did you do with it?”

She was checking his jeans when he struck out at her with his left fist, catching her on the side of the head.

She fell heavily to the pool surround. By the time she had managed to raise herself, he had taken off around the end of the pool. She scrambled up and powered across the concrete, but the gap was already too wide for her to make up the difference.

Trying her radio, she found it dead and full of chlorinated water. There wasn’t much point in Dan creating new applications if he couldn’t make the damned things waterproof. Hurling the useless transmitter into the pool, she ran out into the deserted street.

Longbright squelched her way back to the tube. Now, she sat in the warm carriage dripping. Her clothes and hair felt sticky with chemicals. Everyone was staring at her.

She tried to understand what had just happened. Anna Marquand had taken to using the locker presumably because she wasn’t happy leaving things at home. Which meant that her mugging had not been a spontaneous act of violence. Someone had stolen her bag in order to search it, knowing that she had the habit of putting more than just her shopping inside. Perhaps her attacker had been specifically after her keyring. But what had she kept in the locker? And what had he been looking for?

The answer was far from comforting. Anna Marquand had come by the lido on her way home. And the one item that was missing from her belongings apart, from the mobile phone and keys, was Bryant’s disc containing the documents in breach of national security.