"Last time we spoke, I asked you how well you knew Sophie Morfakis. You told me you'd only spoken to her a few times in passing and only ever at the protest group meets. That was a lie, wasn't it? You've spoken to her so many times you probably couldn't count them even if I asked, and you've certainly met outside of the protest groups."
Florence waited for a moment before nodding.
"It's true," she said. "I knew her before the protest group. That's why it was up to me to always talk to her and make her feel welcome."
"You were also the one that encouraged her to join," Maddox added. "Never mind a 'sense of responsibility to the community' or however it was you put it, you were the leader of the group and so you told her to come."
"She was a friend and we needed members from the local area, I thought she might be interested..."
Maddox folded his arms and stared at her.
"And above all, Florence, Sophie wasn't just a friend. She wasn't even just a close friend..."
He paused and he noticed Florence close her eyes and tense as she braced herself for the exposé.
"She was your lover, wasn't she? You two have been seeing each other behind her husband's back for, well, at least three months, I'd say. That is until she suddenly went missing two weeks ago."
Florence's head rocked forward and she rested it against the dashboard, all the strength and all the built-up tension from having kept the affair a secret for so long draining out of her in one great flood. Her body convulsed as she fought back her emotions and Maddox leaned over the gearstick to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"It was four months, actually," Florence mumbled into her arm before drawing breath and sitting upright again. "Four months. This week would have made it five."
She dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan and examined her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She'd managed to smear her make up whilst her head had been buried and it now looked like she had two black eyes.
"How did you know?" she asked, sounding more steadfast as she turned back to Maddox. "We promised each other we would be careful."
"It was just little things here and there," Maddox answered truthfully. "You did a good job covering your tracks and anybody else might have and probably were fooled. But I started to notice the signs as soon as I took on Sophie's case.
"From most of the photographs that I'd seen of her and from what I'd been told by her husband and sister, Sophie usually wore very little makeup. It would therefore have to take something pretty significant in her life for her to go out and buy several sets of everything, yet that is exactly what I found in her bedroom drawers. Was she trying to impress someone, I wondered? Several items were brand new and unwrapped so, of course, I considered the possibility that they were simply gifts which she'd never bothered to open. But then I checked her car and found several used items of makeup in the glove compartment. If she wasn't trying to impress someone, why need such a large reserve of makeup on the go?"
"I told her she didn't need it," Florence whispered. "She's so beautiful just the way she is."
"Having seen her pictures, I'd have to agree with you. On the same visit of her house, I found a box of chocolates which her husband claimed she'd gifted him for no apparent reason. For a woman working on minimum wage, with a husband who was already getting on the portly side, and with no obvious birthday or event to celebrate, there had to be another reason for her buying them. That reason, I decided, was guilt. Sophie was too nice of a person to go behind her husband's back without feeling some kind of remorse, and this I suppose was her way of paying him back.
"Both of these details were just vague hints, you understand, although they set me on the path to realising the truth quite nicely. Similarly, I was made aware that Sophie had started making more frequent visits to art exhibits and painting sales, as well as rekindling contact with her godmother, Alice, who lived in London and had recently been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. She had begun visiting her to provide much-needed company and support during her last months but, like with the art, she would always go there alone. Now I'm sure she does have a godmother called Alice who has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer – I heard Megan, Sophie's twin, speaking to her on the phone - but what I don't believe is that Sophie spent all the time there that she claimed to have done. I think she would go there for just one or two hours before saying her goodbyes and meeting up with you somewhere nearby. As for the art visits, I imagine most of them weren't even real – I know that her husband has such a lack of interest in her hobby that he wouldn't have questioned her. It would also explain why she's been selling so few paintings despite the apparent number of sales she's attended and the clear quality of her work.
"It wasn't until I discovered you, Florence, that everything fell into place. Before, it was all just hints and guesswork. It was you that provided me with the concrete evidence that I needed to prove my theory.
"When I first met you on your doorstep, I immediately knew I recognised you from somewhere. You tried to convince me otherwise and, to be fair, we had never actually met and there was certainly no way you could have known who I was. But I was adamant I'd seen your face before and it was when we moved into the living room that I worked out where.
"The painting hanging above your fireplace – it's one of hers. I could tell because it was a landscape – an orchard in full bloom, if I remember correctly – crafted using oil paints and with her distinctive fingerprint technique for creating the clouds. Soon after I left, I realised that it had been an article on the Evening Standard website where I'd first seen your face. The article was about Sophie winning a local art competition and there was a large photograph of her accepting her prize from a woman on the stage. You were that woman.
"Your day job might be as a college receptionist, but your real passion, like Sophie, is art and it was obvious not just from all the framed pictures on the walls of your house, but the collectable cat plates and figurines too. Your occupation and passion combined explains why you were there that day – it was your college that had run the competition and you'd put yourself forward to judge the candidates. As I say, Sophie collected first prize and you must have been so impressed with her work that you just had to speak to her about it. Sophie, having received nothing but negativity from her husband at home, was thrilled I expect to have someone take such a keen interest."
"She was," Florence murmured wistfully. "The winning painting had already been bought by a local gallery for display, but she promised me her next piece and, if anything, the orchard was even more breath-taking. She didn't even ask anything for it – it was a gift from her to me, for having faith in her and for giving her the confidence to keep pursuing her dreams. We met up several times in a short period to discuss our various ambitions and that, I'm certain, is when we started to fall in love. The affair started soon after."
She dabbed at her eyes again and Maddox was able to see directly for the first time just how much the secret relationship had meant to each of them.
"No one could know about it," Florence resumed tearfully. "For me it was okay because I lived on my own and rarely had visitors, but Sophie was with her husband and was obviously very close to her twin sister as well. For her, it was always going to be a lot more difficult to cover up and so I took it as a sign of just how much she needed me and this relationship that she was prepared to do it. We weren't fools. We knew it couldn't and wouldn't last forever. But that didn't stop us from loving every second. If and when we were discovered, we hoped we would be able to pass it off as a close friendship and nothing more." Florence paused as a sudden thought disturbed her rambling. "Speaking of which, how did you know we were lovers and not just close friends who simply shared an affinity for art? One painting doesn't prove anything."
"You're right, it doesn't," Maddox admitted. "And short of hearing your confession as you've given me right now, I could never be absolutely certain that your friendship was anything intimate. But I had a strong hunch. You see, despite being married to Christos for over fourteen years since their university days, I'm pretty sure this isn't Sophie's first lesbian relationship. Megan told me that she'd had one previous fling before Christos, a person named Alex. She didn't give me a gender, but obviously at first I assumed Alex was a guy. However, earlier that day I'd seen a photograph of a young Sophie with a woman called Lexi, who Christos told me was her best friend from her first year at university. At that point I didn't make the connection – Lexi is an alternative nickname to Alex – but when I concluded that there must have been a close bond of some nature between you and Sophie it clicked: Sophie is bisexual. I don't know if the story of Lexi is news to you or not but, with that, I realised an intimate relationship between the two of you was suddenly more than plausible. And, ultimately, I've been proven right."
"She deserved so much better than her husband," Florence muttered bitterly, almost spitting the words out. "She deserves someone who truly loves her, not someone who wants to use and abuse her."
"She told you about the sexual abuse?"
Florence nodded grimly. "I told her to go to the police, but she was too scared to even consider it. I think part of her was still attached to him in some perverse way, though I guess that's what happens when you're together with someone for fourteen years. Like mould growing on a wall. She spoke to me in confidence, made me swear not to tell anyone else. That's why I was sketchy with the details when you questioned me about possible abuse – I was torn between loyalty and getting her the help that she desperately needed."
"She didn't even tell her twin sister," Maddox said. "That's just how special you were to her."
Florence nodded hesitantly, playing with her fingers as she stared vacantly into the distance through the dirty windscreen. She looked nervous and ill at ease, and Maddox knew it was because she'd anticipated what was coming next.
"But, as you know, that's only half of the reason why I'm here. If all that was to be told was you and Sophie having an affair, then I wouldn't be interested in the slightest. As it is, your relationship has become an integral part of a plot much bigger than either of you could have ever believed."
Maddox's voice had taken on a new steelier tone, indicating that the mood was about to get darker and fast. Florence pulled her cardigan tighter around her neck and nodded, mentally ready for what was in store.
"The issue with starting an affair with Sophie is that, all of a sudden and perhaps for the first time in your life, you had someone who you truly and deeply cared about. That's no offence intended towards your cats because I've no doubt you love them as well, but they could never offer you the intimacy, emotional depth and social pleasure that you experienced with Sophie. Without knowing, you now had something that you were terrified of losing, that you would do anything to protect, and that can be a dangerous game. When you first heard about the plan to expand London City Airport and were so outraged that you felt compelled to start up a campaign protesting against the move, you probably couldn't have ever imagined that it would put your relationship with Sophie at stake. But these are the kind of people we're dealing with, Florence. I want you to know that clear and simple. If they smell out a weakness, they're going to exploit it.
"What exacerbated the problem is that your anti-airport protest group, Newham Neighbours United, almost became too successful. Yes, you managed to gather a strong following and convey your points and displeasure across to the mayor and the rest of the Newham Council committee, but you also hit London news and from that moment on it was clear that you had the power and potential to completely overturn the verdict. Even the Prime Minister was apparently leaning on your side. With capital-wide backing and senior outcries against the airport, Newham Council would have been backed into a cul-de-sac. They'd have had no choice but to reject the application.
"And someone wasn't happy with that. Someone needed the airport expansion to go ahead at all costs. And so they had no choice but to eliminate every obstacle that got in the way of that happening. Newham Neighbours United - with you at the helm, Florence - were one of those obstacles."
Florence shuddered and pulled her cardigan tighter around her body. It could have been the cold responsible, small patches of ice forming on the windscreen and side windows as the car sat there idly, but it was more likely the visitation of bad memories and dark thoughts.
"With so much public attention, it was obvious to anyone following your story that you were the integral piece of glue that was holding the whole protest group together. You were the founder and leader. You were the one who recruited new members, who organised rallies, who made speeches at public appearances and who was given the opportunity of speaking to the mayor face to face. This someone cleverly worked out that if they could get to you and remove your influence from the picture, then it was very likely that the rest of the group would follow suit. Your followers idolised you. You were the one they were fighting for. No matter how grand a castle is, it will crumble without its foundations. And with you gone, it would be left to the likes of Jonny and Fran to try and maintain the group's message – people who couldn't be less convincing if they turned up in clown costumes.
"What this someone needed now was leverage. They needed something that they could use against you to make you answer to their every whim. They recruited a known gun-for-hire – a man called Milos Tausan – to follow you around and learn your personality and behaviours inside out: where do you live, what job do you do, how close are you to your family, what makes you happy or sad, do you have a best friend... You may not have noticed him, but I can guarantee he was always there, lurking in the background, shadowing your every move. With the number of times you and Sophie were meeting up with each other around that period, it wouldn't have been difficult for someone of his expertise to work out what was going on: you had a secret relationship with another woman. Your cats were precious to you, but could probably be replaced. You're not too close to your family judging by the lack of photographs in your house. Your job was just a job and with your skills you could easily find another. But Sophie was everything to you. She was the salt to your pepper that you'd always been missing.
"Milos reported this information back to his paymaster and with that both yours and Sophie's fate was sealed."
Maddox paused to catch his breath, watching Florence studiously as she continued to stare into the distance, listening closely to his words but at the same time a million miles away.
"From what I've been able to work out, this is what happened next: Sophie turned up to work as normal two weeks ago on Monday, parking in a nearby lot and walking the few minutes to the Penny Pinchers outlet in Greenwich where she's a cashier. The day went by uneventfully and she checked out electronically at 4pm when her shift ended. She then started walking back towards her car, except she never made it. On the way, someone intercepted her and smuggled her away in the back of a vehicle before anyone noticed. Being the dirty work, my guess is that this was Milos Tausan too. After identifying Sophie as his target, he would've spent a great deal of time learning her movements, working out the prime moment for him to snatch her. I've seen photographs of her inside his house. He knew the short stretch between the car park and the shopping store was his best opportunity.
"Step one was complete, but now they needed to break the bad news and deliver their ultimatum."
Maddox stopped and waited for Florence to clock.
"This is where I'm going to need you to fill me in, Florence. I have a pretty good idea of what took place already, but I want to hear it from you. Who came to your house? What did they demand of you?"
Florence took a long time before replying, as if the memories were so painful that she had to battle to get them out first.
"He came on Tuesday, the day after Sophie went missing. I already had an inkling that something was wrong – she hadn't replied to any of my calls or messages since the previous afternoon – but I couldn't possibly have imagined it was this. I assumed her phone had died or, worse still, that her husband had found out about us. I was beginning to fear the worst and that our affair was over when the knock on my front door came."
"Who was it?"
"His name wasn't Milos and he didn't speak with an accent. He called himself Mr Barrett."
Maddox pulled a frown, the name not familiar to him.
"Describe him."
Florence sighed and cast her mind back. "He had jet black hair, kind of thick and messy – a bit like yours if you don't mind me saying, except maybe a bit longer. He had brown eyes and really thick eyebrows that nearly met in the middle. There was a mole on his right cheek. He had white skin, quite pale, and was maybe six feet in height."
"Did he wear a flat cap?"
"No flat cap, but he did have a scarf and a Barbour jacket."
Maddox's frowned deepened as none of the details seemed to register with him. Jet black hair... a mole on the right cheek... Who was this person and where had they come from?
"He also had a bit of an odd face," Florence added.
Maddox stopped dead in his tracks.
"What do you mean? How?" he pushed.
Florence folded her arms and shifted uneasily. "Well, his mouth barely moved when he spoke, almost like a ventriloquist. It also sagged on one side so I tried not to stare too much. I also found it hard to read a lot of his emotions, even when he was talking. It's hard to explain, but quite simply he didn't show any."
"The man with the blank face," Maddox muttered and suddenly the dots reconnected in his head. Excitedly, he turned to Florence. "There's a reason why his face sagged and you couldn't read any of his emotions: he was wearing a mask. Someone else saw him on a different day, except he was wearing a different mask and a different wig at the same time. But the saggy, expressionless face remained the same. The mask is good enough to convince people it's real, but it's also not perfect. However, it's done the job in concealing his identity, at least for now..."
"I didn't think Mr Barrett was his real name," Florence admitted. "And a mask makes sense, just in case I tried to report him to the authorities."
"Except you never would have risked it, would you? Because he told you he had Sophie."
Florence nodded painfully.
"What did he ask from you to ensure her safety?"
Florence quivered and tried to sink into the passenger seat, but it wouldn't let her. Her face was full of terror and disgust.
"He didn't ask, he demanded. There's a difference because it was quite clear from the outset that I didn't have a say in the matter. First of all, he told me to retract all the comments and statements I'd made to the mayor, the ones that would go on record as part of the case against the airport expansion for the council to consider. Then he told me to disband Newham Neighbours United and step down from my position as leader. There were to be no more rallies and no more public appearances. If anyone asked, I'd clued up on the terrific benefits that the airport expansion would bring to the local community and had changed my stance on the whole issue. It didn't matter if anyone believed me or smelt a rat, that's what I had to say. If I didn't, then I would never see Sophie alive again."
"And so you followed his orders."
"Every word, right down to the phony excuse. When I was telling it to you in the living room I knew it sounded false, even if I'd supplemented it with a few figures I'd picked off the internet to make it seem more believable. I knew you could see right through me, but what else could I do but deny everything? Sophie's life was at stake! When I phoned up the mayor's office to retract my statements I can honestly say it was one of the worst moments of my life. The mayor sounded ecstatic and incredibly smug, but I was just filled with embarrassment and guilt. I was selling my soul. I was going back on everything that I had stood and fought for. But I didn't have a choice.
"The biggest issue was with the protest group. Stepping down was easy enough, though it took a lot of people by surprise. Disbanding the whole group was trickier. Eventually, over several days, I managed to convince most of my followers that campaigning further was a pointless exercise, that we weren't going to be listened to and were just wasting our breath. A lot of people turned on me and I was called every single name you can think of under the sun, but without someone there to inspire them and tell them what they needed to do, the vast majority lost interest and left as well. Just a few stragglers remained, headed by Jonny and Fran who quite simply didn't have anything else to do with their lives. Despite my pleas they continued protesting and earlier this week I got a phone call from a random number. It was Mr Barrett or whatever his real name is, informing me that I'd failed to comply with his demands and that he was on his way to kill Sophie. I pleaded with him as if my own life depended on it – I think, deep down, that's what I believed – explaining that the protest group, though still in existence, was now so insignificant that it would have no bearing on the council's verdict whatsoever. By some miracle, I managed to convince him. But he told me to be there at the town hall on Sunday to see myself whether I was right. If I was wrong, he wanted to see the pain in my eyes as I realised I'd killed the only woman I'd ever loved."
Florence shuddered and brought her knees up to her chest, resting her shoes on the seat of the chair, not that Maddox was in any way bothered.
"Did you see him in there just now?" he asked.
Florence shook her head. "No, and I was specifically looking to see if I could spot him. I suppose he could have been bluffing, that he wasn't even there at all."
"Or that he was wearing another wig and mask, blending into the crowd."
Florence shrugged. "Either way, he'll be long gone now."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Florence resting her chin on her knees and trying not to sniffle; Maddox rapping his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel with his eyes glazed over, deep in thought. They both came to at the same time, but Maddox got in there first.
"I know who it is," he announced loudly. "I know who has Sophie."
Florence had been about to ask whether she could now leave and return home, to be consoled by her cats and cry alone in bed, but suddenly her interest was back.
"Who?" she demanded.
"I can't say, sorry, not until I have absolutely concrete proof that it's them. But I'm ninety-nine percent sure, and you can help me confirm it."
"How?"
"We need to flush him out from whatever dank hole he's hiding in. You've held your side of the bargain and the council's verdict has gone the way of the airport like he wanted, now it's his turn to hold his. You said he phoned you up earlier this week to talk about the protest group... do you still have that number?"
"Yes, it will be on my list of recent calls."
"Then here's what I'd like you to do: when you get back home, wait till this evening then ring him up using the same number. Tell him that you've done everything that was asked of you, now he needs to let Sophie go. Tell him he has twenty-four hours to do it. If he refuses, threaten to go to the police. If he's even a second late, tell him that the same thing will happen. I doubt he will refuse because he's already got what he wanted, but that's just in case. Then hang up, sit tight, and let me deal with the rest of it."
"Why do I have to wait till this evening?"
"Because me and my partner need a bit of time to prepare, to get things sorted for when he appears. I doubt he will go and release Sophie straightaway after you call, but we need to be ready for when he does."
Florence nodded and reached over to touch Maddox's arm, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you," she whispered.
"It's alright," Maddox replied, refusing to get emotional but still feeling a slight tug somewhere deep in his chest. "Thank you for being so honest this time. Now just remember to wait till this evening before making the call."
"I will," Florence nodded. She was about to reach for the door handle but hesitated a few seconds longer. "You'll make sure Sophie is okay, won't you? She really is everything to me."
Maddox smiled reassuringly. "Of course. You're not the only one she means the world to. Now off you go. Drive safe."
The smile on his face faded into a look of grim determination as Florence stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. He watched her walk the first fifty metres down the road till she disappeared from view, then pulled out his mobile and called Leon's number.
"What's happening? You've been bloody ages!" Leon demanded. "I feared the journalists must have caught up with you or something."
"Never mind that, you need to listen," Maddox replied. "Leon, I know who the culprit is – the man who gave the order to have Professor Fry murdered and who abducted Sophie Morfakis from off the street in broad daylight. But there's no time to explain, certainly not here over the phone. I've got a plan to catch him red-handed and we need to start working on it now. The wheels are already in motion."
Leon recognised the urgency in his voice and, though he was itching to find out what Maddox knew, by now he knew better than to question him when he was in full flow like this.
"I'm still parked next to the town hall. When can you get over here?"
Maddox already had the engine on and the gearbox into first. "I'm literally just around the corner. I'll be there in two."
Over the next few hours, as the sun peaked and then slowly sank in the pale sky, the two of them hared around London putting the final touches to Maddox's plan. Leon returned to Milos' deserted house in Wembley and picked up the crucial piece of evidence that they'd missed on their first visit, checking that the dog was still well-catered for food and water while he was there. Meanwhile, Maddox made two phone calls: one to HM Land Registry to make a query over a property, the other to Megan to ask her for a big favour. The request had barely left his mouth before she'd agreed unequivocally. Together, they finally headed for the Royal Docks.
By the time Florence Schofield picked up the phone in her living room at seven o'clock and dialled Mr Barrett's number, they were all set.