Tyler jumped and grabbed his coat. "Thanks." He hurried for the door.

"Don't you want to know if you pa.s.sed?" Boris called.

"Did I?" He kept his back toward Boris.

"Yes."

He turned and beamed. "Thank you."

"Next time follow the rules."

Tyler emerged from the police station feeling like he'd been knocked down by a car.

"Are you okay?" Dunnock asked.

He nodded. "Thanks for your help."

"I take it I'm to send my bill to Haris?"

Oh G.o.d. More money? "Yes."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, but contact me if the police want to speak to you again. They probably will."

"Right."

Tyler knew the police hadn't figured out why the sock and belt had been in his pocket. Jeremy hadn't been tied up when he arrived so it wasn't that he didn't remember freeing him. Someone must have put them in his pocket, and that someone could be the guy who'd stabbed Jeremy. Had he still been in the room? In the bathroom? If Tyler had been the target, he'd had a chance to kill him and hadn't.

Before he went back to Holland Park, he wanted to talk to Jeremy. He knew he might have made things difficult by speaking out and wanted to warn him. It hadn't been his place to tell about the rape, but it gave Gerald a motive to want Jeremy silenced.

When he finally found Jeremy's ward, a policeman sat outside his room.

Tyler approached him cautiously. "I'm a friend of Jeremy's. I found him last night. Can I see him?"

"He's not allowed visitors."

"I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

The policeman stared at him and then said, "I'll come in with you."

Tyler bit his lip when he saw Jeremy. He looked battered and bruised and as pale as his pillow, especially with his hair dyed.

"He says he's your friend," the policeman said. "You happy for him to spend a few minutes with you?"

"Yes," Jeremy croaked.

The policeman left and Tyler sat on a chair next to the bed. "Christ, Jeremy, you look like s.h.i.t."

"Exactly the look I was going for."

Tyler chuckled. "You're going to live, I take it."

"Thanks to you. You saved my life."

"Hey, I took one look at the blood and pa.s.sed out."

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Tyler smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Like c.r.a.p."

"So what the h.e.l.l happened?"

"I opened the door when someone knocked. I thought it was you, but this stranger burst in and bowled me over. I struggled but he gagged me and tied me up on the bed. I thought he was going...but he grabbed a knife from the kitchen."

Tyler took hold of Jeremy's fingers and squeezed gently.

"He pulled my phone and wallet out of my pocket and I thought he just wanted to rob me and then he'd go. But he went through the wallet and got all p.i.s.sed, started to swear-well, I guessed he was swearing, I had no idea what language he was speaking." He stopped to take a breath. "I think I had about twenty quid in there, but what the h.e.l.l did he expect to find from someone in a little bedsit? I thought, this is so unfair, I'm going to get f.u.c.king killed for twenty quid, but he just glared at me and called someone on his mobile. More of the foreign language before he grabbed my phone and sent a text."

"To me. I had a feeling it wasn't you. I can barely understand yours. Though if he texted in English, he must speak it."

Jeremy shifted and groaned. "He didn't say anything to me. He just sat playing with the knife, checked his watch a couple of times and the next thing I knew, he'd stuck the blade in me a few times. "

"Oh G.o.d."

"The doctor said I was lucky he'd used a little knife. Lucky it hadn't gone an inch to the right."

Tyler winced.

"Next time I opened my eyes I saw you."

"I gave a statement to the police this morning." Tyler was working up to telling him what he'd said about Gerald and Prescott's parties.

"They took a brief one from me. I wasn't much help. Don't know the guy. Don't know why he did it."

"I thought it might have been Gerald."

"It wasn't. He was in his mid-thirties, I'd guess. Curly dark hair, darkish skin, foreign. I suppose Gerald could have paid him to stab me. But why?"

Tyler took a deep breath. "I c.o.c.ked up."

Jeremy stared at him.

"I saw Gerald at a charity dinner at the Natural History Museum last Sunday. His name's not Gerald, by the way. It's George Blunt. He's a senior civil servant. He cornered me in the Gents' and I accused him of raping you."

Jeremy pressed his lips together.

"He wasn't happy. I should have warned you I'd seen him. Sorry. I told the police. And I told them about Prescott and his parties."

"Jesus, Tyler. I didn't say anything about that. I told them I was staying at your place because a guy had been bothering me, but I said I didn't know who it was. They think it's the same one who stabbed me."

"You have to tell them about Gerald and Prescott. Even if they don't bring charges against Gerald, they need to know."

"I don't want that on my record. Nor about the parties. I'd never get accepted as a pilot."

"What we did isn't an offense. It's only Prescott who's broken the law. Well, and Gerald, but you don't stand much chance of proving the r...what he did."

"You really think Prescott or Gerald could be behind this?"

"Who else could it be? Maybe one of them hoped to set me up for your murder but things went wrong. Your attacker waited after he'd texted me before he stabbed you, so he might have been making sure I was close and had no alibi. What if he was hiding in the bathroom?" He shuddered. "Maybe it was him who hit me. Or maybe he laughed when he saw I'd knocked myself out when I fainted."

"There's no proof Prescott or Gerald are involved."

"I know. And if it was only Gerald, and Prescott discovers what's happened and thinks the jig's up, he'll just close everything down. I think he's screwed."

"Maybe not. There's no proof as you said, and I haven't confirmed your story."

Tyler opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Jeremy sighed. "Bang goes my chance of making some real money. I can't even work now for weeks."

It shocked Tyler that he'd even consider going back. "You might get something from the Criminal Injuries Compensation Scheme."

"Not ninety thousand quid."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I thought I never would. Go home. My parents should be here soon."

Tyler frowned. "I thought you didn't get on with them."

"I don't, but it's amazing how being stabbed changes things." He laughed and groaned. "Ouch. That hurt. I'll go back for a few months. I've had my fill of London. When I'm well, I'll rethink. Keep in touch, okay?"

"Sure."

"And be careful."

Chapter Eighteen.

Tyler became aware he was being followed just before he got on the Tube. He'd caught sight of the guy three times, and if the man hadn't been middle aged with pale skin and gray hair and a moustache, he might have panicked. It wasn't the man who'd stabbed Jeremy, nor was it the man who'd followed him before. But that was only of marginal comfort. He stepped off the train onto the platform at the next station, messed around with his phone and then leapt back on board as the doors closed. The train pulled away and he watched the gray-haired man walk casually to the exit. Maybe I was wrong.

Instead of going straight back to Holland Park, he detoured via Oxford Street. If anyone still followed, he'd lose them in the crowds. While he was around the shops, he picked out Christmas presents for Haris, Wilson and Alcide using the fifty pounds he'd earned from the gig. By the time he'd finished, as far he could tell, no one was tailing him and he put his earlier worries down to paranoia.

He walked past a guy selling Christmas trees, and wondered if Haris would put one up. Tyler dimly remembered decorating a tree with his siblings and his mum. It had been really tall. Well, it had seemed it to him. Those had been the days of waking up on Christmas morning to a mountain of presents under the tree, a time when writing to Santa Claus brought the gifts he longed for, when cold winter evenings were spent cuddling on the couch with his brother and sister watching DVDs. None of that happened once he was in care.

He did remember the first Christmas after he'd been orphaned. He'd written his letter to Santa as usual, thinking he'd still get what he asked for. He'd bragged to the others in the home-big mistake. He'd insisted Santa was real-bigger mistake. He'd received the same as them-a selection box of chocolates, a board game and a book-and he still remembered their sn.i.g.g.e.rs. It hurt thinking about it.

After that, Tyler neither asked for nor expected anything at Christmas or for his birthday. He changed, hardened up and turned awkward, and that resulted in him being hit on a regular basis, even though there were laws against it. Smacked around for his own good-yeah, right. All it did was make him certain he'd never hit a child of his own, if he ever had one. He hoped he did have a kid one day, maybe adopt a boy or girl no one else wanted and make them happy.

On his way to the house from Holland Park Tube station, Tyler pa.s.sed another place selling Christmas trees. He used the last of his cash to buy the biggest, plus a set of lights, and persuaded the salesman to throw in a plastic stand. It helped that he was gay and clearly fancied him. But Tyler then had to refuse the offer of a drink and free delivery. He hoisted the tree onto his shoulder and staggered back to the house, hoping he hadn't overstepped the mark, because Haris might have some giant, artificial tree stuffed in the loft ready to bring down on Christmas Eve.

He propped the tree just inside the door with his packages and kicked off his shoes.

"Wilson?" he called. "Alcide?"

There was no answer. Tyler took his bags upstairs, wrapped the presents and hid them in the wardrobe. Back downstairs, he carried the tree and holder into the room with the piano and set it up in front of the window. When he went to get scissors and water from the kitchen, he found a note from Wilson saying he'd taken Alcide to a dog park. Well, it was a whole page of writing but that was basically it. The guy didn't do brief.

Tyler set the tree in the container, filled it with water and then cut away the netting. The branches fell into shape and he stood back and inhaled the scent of pine. The tree was a bit thin on the left side but overall it looked good. He wrapped it in lights, plugged them in and smiled when they started to twinkle. The tree was great. He hoped Haris agreed.

He turned off the main light, switched on a lamp and grabbed a pad of ma.n.u.script paper and his acoustic guitar. If the guy from Spot magazine did persuade anyone to come and see the band, they needed more material of their own. Tyler lounged on the couch and stared at the tree as he strummed.

Light up my life.

Light of my life.

Let me shine.

Haris discretely checked the caller ID on his phone and then tuned back in to what the two men in front of him were saying. He was intrigued by their idea of generating supplementary power on the underground system by utilizing the change in pressure as trains moved through tunnels and pushed air ahead of them, but he had no idea if the technology was sound.

"We could put our turbines on the top of the trains or in the tunnels," one of them said.

Haris had already read their twenty-page business plan and he liked the prospective clients, though he remained to be convinced it was a lucrative investment. He needed independent advice on the technical aspects, but at least these two had pa.s.sed the first hurdle. They listened, were focused and intelligent, and he could imagine working with them.

He wrapped up the meeting, told them what else he needed, what he was going to do and arranged to see them in the new year. Once they'd left, he returned Stan's call.

"Sorry. I was busy. What's up?"

"My guy lost him."

Haris clenched his jaw.

"That's the bad news. The good news is that he's back in Holland Park, but for two hours we lost contact with him. Are you sure he doesn't suspect he's being followed?"

"What happened last night has probably made him wary."

"You want me to keep watching?"

"Yes, but start again tomorrow. I'm going home soon and Wilson will be there anyway." Even if he wasn't, Tyler was safe at the house. He pushed to his feet and pulled his coat out of the closet. "Did you get anywhere with the other thing?"

"George Blunt was at a House of Commons banquet last night. I've nothing yet on Prescott. Sat.u.r.day, I'll have people watching the building. We should get a photograph of him at least."

"Remember the police might be doing the same thing."