“He’s been there how long?” Lynley asked.

“Closing in on a year.”

“Attending regularly?”

“He has to. It’s part of his probation.” Savidge lifted his mug and drank. He wiped his mouth carefully. He went on with, “Sean’s said from the first that he didn’t steal that bike, and I believe him. At the same time, I want to keep him out of trouble, which you and I know he’s going to get into if he doesn’t go to school and doesn’t get involved with something. He hasn’t exactly looked forward to Colossus every day-from what I can tell-but he goes. He managed the assessment course, and he’s actually had some good words to say about the computer course he’s doing now.”

“Who was his assessment leader?”

“Griffin Strong. Social worker. Sean liked him well enough. Or at least well enough not to complain about him.”

“Has he ever failed to come home before, Reverend Savidge?”

“Never. He’s been late a few times, but he’s phoned to let us know. That’s it.”

“Is there any reason he might have decided to run off?”

Savidge thought about this. He circled his hands round his mug and rolled it between his palms. He finally said, “Once he managed to track down his dad without telling me-”

“In North Kensington?”

“Yes. Munro Mews, a car-repair shop. Sean tracked him down a few months ago. I don’t know exactly what happened. He’s never said. But I don’t expect it was anything positive. His dad’s moved on in his life. He has a wife and kids, which is all I know from Sean’s social worker. So if Sean went hoping to get Dad’s attention…That would have been a real nonstarter. But not enough to cause Sean to run off.”

“The dad’s name?”

Savidge gave it to him: one Sol Oliver. But then he ran out of the willingness to cooperate and self-subordinate. He was clearly not used to doing either. He said, “Now, Superintendent Lynley. I’ve told you what I know. I want you to tell me what you’re going to do. And not what you’re going to do in forty-eight hours or however long you expect me to wait because Sean might have run off. He doesn’t run off. He phones if he’s going to be late. He leaves Colossus and he checks in here on his way to the gym. He pounds the punch bag and then he goes home.”

The gym? Lynley took note of this. What gym? Where? How often did he go? And how did Sean get from Plugged Inn to the Lord to the gym and from there to home? On foot? By bus? Did he ever hitchhike? Did someone drive him?

Savidge regarded him curiously but answered willingly enough. Sean walked, he told Lynley. It wasn’t far. Either from here or from home. It was called Square Four Gym.

Did the boy have a mentor there? Lynley asked. Someone he admired? Someone he spoke of?

Savidge shook his head. He said that Sean went to the gym as part of coping with his anger and upon his social worker’s recommendation. He had no ambition to be a body builder, a boxer, a wrestler, or anything else along those lines, as far as Savidge knew.

What about friends? Lynley asked. Who were they?

Savidge thought about this for a moment before he admitted that Sean Lavery didn’t seem to have friends. But he was a good boy and he was responsible, Savidge insisted. And the one thing he could vouch for was that Sean wouldn’t fail to come home without phoning and explaining why.

And then because somehow Savidge knew that New Scotland Yard would not have come in place of the local police without more of a reason than having been in Ulrike Ellis’s office when he phoned, he said, “Perhaps it’s time you told me why you’re really here, Superintendent.”

In reply, Lynley asked Reverend Savidge if he had a photo of the boy.

Not there in his office, Savidge told him. For that, they would need to go to his home.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EVEN IF ROBBIE KILFOYLE IN HIS EURODISNEY CAP hadn’t alluded to the fact, Barbara Havers would have twigged that something was going on between Griffin Strong and Ulrike Ellis about fifteen seconds into seeing them together. Whether it was merely a case of angst-filled love going unacknowledged, of footsie in the local canteen, or Kama Sutra under the stars, she couldn’t have said. Nor could she tell if it was just a one-way street with Ulrike doing all the driving in a car she was piloting to nowhere. But that there was something in the air between them-some sort of electrical charge that usually meant naked bodies and moaning exchanges of bodily fluids but could really mean anything in between handshakes and the primal act-only a deaf-mute alien life form would have thought to deny.

The director of Colossus personally brought Griffin Strong to Barbara. She made the introductions, and the way she said his name-not to mention the way she looked at him, with an expression not unlike the one Barbara felt on her own face whenever she gazed upon a fruit-topped cheesecake-pretty much put neon lights round whatever secret she or they were supposed to be keeping. And obviously, there had to be a secret. Not only had Robbie Kilfoyle earlier mentioned the word wife in connection with Strong, but the man himself wore a wedding band the approximate size of a lorry tyre. Which in itself was a wise idea, Barbara thought. Strong was just about the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen walking unmolested on the streets of London. He no doubt needed something to ward off the hordes of females whose jaws probably dropped to their chests when he passed them. He looked like a film star. He looked better than a film star. He looked like a god.

He also, Barbara realised, looked uneasy. She couldn’t decide if this counted in his favour or marked him down for further study.

He said, “Ulrike’s told me about Kimmo Thorne and Sean Lavery. You might as well know: They were both mine. Sean went through assessment with me ten months ago and Kimmo was going through assessment now. I let Ulrike know straightaway when he-Kimmo-didn’t turn up. Obviously, I didn’t know Sean was missing, as he’s not currently one of mine.”

Barbara nodded. Helpful, she thought. And the bit about Sean was an interesting wrinkle.

She asked was there a spot where they could talk. They didn’t exactly need Ulrike Ellis hanging upon their every word.

Strong said he shared an office with two other assessment leaders. They were off with their kids today, though, and if she’d follow him there, they’d have some privacy. He himself didn’t have a lot of time, though, because he was due to help take some kids out on the river. He gave Ulrike a quick glance and motioned Barbara to follow him.

For her part, Barbara tried to interpret that glance and the nervous smile that quivered on Ulrike’s lips as she received it. You and me, babe. Our secret, darling. We’ll talk later. I want you naked. Rescue me in five minutes, please. The possibilities seemed endless.

Barbara followed Griffin Strong-“It’s Griff,” he said-to an office just the other side of reception. It displayed the same decorating sense as Ulrike’s: heavy on clutter and light on available space. Bookshelves, filing cabinets, one shared desk. The walls held posters intended to influence young people in a positive direction: illiterate football stars with curious hairdos, pretending to read Charles Dickens, and pop singers doing thirty seconds of public service in soup kitchens. Colossus posters joined these. On them, the familiar logo appeared, that giant allowing himself to be used by the smaller and the less fortunate.

Strong went to one of the filing cabinets and fingered through a packed drawer to pull out two files. He consulted them and told her that Kimmo Thorne had come to Colossus via the magistrate’s court, Youth Offenders, and his predilection for selling stolen goods. Sean had come via Social Services and something about a hijacked mountain bike.