Chapter 36
Bradshawspent the rest of the night taking Stahl through any story he had been credited with that had even the remotest link to what was happening now.
Flynn had disappeared to assist in the search for the Botanist’s third victim, but Poe stayed behind. He didn’t trust Stahl. He wasn’t the Botanist – the effects of his alcohol abuse were real and debilitating and couldn’t be faked – but anyone who thought that someone’s son having leukaemia was newsworthy wasn’t the type of person he wanted left alone with Bradshaw.
He sipped a beer while Stahl walked her through his career. Its downward trajectory was depressing. In his early years he’d been a talented journalist. He had reported from warzones and he had lived with London Yardies. He had told human stories from the Malaysian Nipah virus infection and he had exposed the board-approved cancer-causing practices of a major petrochemical company. Poe wondered what had happened to him.
‘Do deep-dive profiles on those last two stories, Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘The Botanist hasn’t used a virus yet, but he might, and that petrochemical company will have been packed with scientists. Maybe one of them lost his job and is out there seeking redemption.’
‘I will, Poe.’
‘But not now. It’s almost midnight and we all need some rest.’ He faced Stahl. ‘I’m under no illusion you don’t sleep well, Mr Stahl. If you want a nightcap, go and get it now. Although this hotel’s secure, once you’re in your room I’m putting an armed cop outside.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a small brandy,’ he said.
Stahl returned ten minutes later. He needed a tray to carry all the booze.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Poe muttered.