jump through to…’
Brennan raised a hand, ‘Sir, in about an hour it’s going to be pitch dark. I think that’s going to be our last chance to catch this bastard… He doesn’t know Mickle is dead, he thinks she’s alive and he thinks she’s holding incriminating evidence…’
‘The diary?’
‘Yes.’ Brennan rose, tapped an index finger heavily on the desk in front of him, ‘I think he’ll try and reclaim it, and I think he’ll try and silence Angela Mickle… if we can convince him she’s alive.’
The Chief Super picked up a fountain pen from his desk, started to roll it between thumb and forefinger. His eyes darted, left to right. ‘You’re talking about a set-up… Something at Angela Mickle’s flat?’
‘I’m talking about that yes, but we’d need to bait the trap.’
‘Oh, Jesus…’ Benny’s face fell like a stone.
‘I think there’s a WPC on the team who would fit the bill, and I’d supervise the operation personally.’
The Chief Super rose from his chair, faced Brennan across the desk. As he spoke, he pointed at the DI with the tip of his fountain pen, ‘You are asking me to sanction putting a member of my force into the clutches of the worst serial killer we’ve seen in a generation…’
Brennan shook his head. ‘I think we can contain the risks, sir… And I don’t think we have any other options. When the press reveal Mickle’s death, and Gallagher’s involvement, we’re not going to see Crawley again… He’s resourceful; if he goes to ground, we miss our chance.’
Benny gnawed on the edge of his lip, his eyes slanted towards the darkening window and then he lunged forward and flicked on the desk lamp. His face became illuminated in a bright white light that seemed too strong for him; he turned towards the window again and started to roll his fountain pen between his palms. His sloped shoulders seemed to deflate as he leaned towards the glass and spoke. ‘OK, Rob, you make this work,’ he turned around, his skin sat in grey-white folds beneath his eyes, ‘because if you don’t, it’s not just your neck on the line.’
Brennan rose from his chair; as he put eyes on the Chief Super he noticed his lips seemed dry, chalky. There was a sensation of relief playing in his chest but he knew the hard work had not even begun. The DI turned for the door and listened as the boards creaked once again. He made a half smile as Dee greeted him; she was putting on her coat, heading for home. Brennan felt the extent of her world wouldn’t fill the four walls around them. She would get in her car, collect some groceries and cook for an ungrateful brood before watching some brain-wash television and then go to bed. He didn’t know whether to feel sympathy or envy for her.
As he entered Incident Room One, Brennan felt he had stepped into a spotlight; the squad stilled all activity and turned towards him. As he looked around the room he wondered what they all wanted as they stared at him, and then his thoughts aligned with theirs.
‘If you’re looking for the latest on Jim Gallagher, you’ll have a long wait,’ said Brennan. He walked towards the coat stand and fished in the pockets of his overcoat for cigarettes, but found none.
Collins walked towards Brennan with an outstretched hand; as the DI looked down he saw the packet of cigarettes and a plastic Bic lighter. ‘Cheers,’ he said.
‘So, what now, boss?’ said Collins.
Brennan removed a cigarette from the packet of B amp;H, looked at the clock on the wall. He knew what he wanted to be able to say, but it relied on one more person offering him the support he needed. ‘Where’s Elaine?’ he said.
‘Erm,’ Collins seemed unsure of his response. ‘Good question.’
As the room turned, started to hum with possibilities, the WPC and DS Stevie McGuire walked through the door; they were smiling together, but the smiles evaporated as they came into contact with the others’ stares.
‘What’s going on?’ said McGuire.
Brennan lit his cigarette, blew smoke into the room. He set his gaze on Elaine, ‘I need a volunteer, I need a WPC to tease out our suspect.’
McGuire turned from Brennan and walked towards his desk; the DI tipped back his head as he awaited a response. ‘Well, do you think you’re up to it?’
Elaine nodded briskly, ‘Yes, sure… What do I have to do?’
As she responded, Brennan felt his pulse settle, he brought the cigarette towards his mouth and inhaled deeply. ‘That’s great, Elaine. I’ll fill you in on the logistics soon,’ he flicked ash from his cigarette tip onto the carpet tiles, ‘but you’ll be impersonating our recent victim, playing possum at her flat.’
She smiled, ‘Will I need my high heels, sir?’
‘You just might.’
Brennan patted Elaine’s shoulder, returned the cigarettes and lighter to Collins and walked towards McGuire’s desk. The DS was poring over a folder, making annotations in the margin with a Biro.
‘Stevie, got time for a word?’ said Brennan.
The DS dropped the pen, slapped the folder closed, and stood up. He made no eye contact with Brennan as he quick-stepped towards his office at the end of Incident Room One. As Brennan watched McGuire, he felt as if he had made a miscalculation somewhere along the line, but he wasn’t sure where. In his office, Brennan closed the door gently, then walked around to the other side of the desk, said, ‘Take a seat, Stevie.’
‘I’d sooner stand… sir.’
Brennan turned down the corners of his mouth, ‘Suit yourself.’ He watched as McGuire turned away from him, folded his arms. It seemed a petulant stance, like one a teenager would adopt. It was tempting to slap sense into the lad thought Brennan, and then he calmed his spirits. ‘Is there something bothering you, Stevie?’
The DS sighed audibly, ‘Oh, let me see… Now what could that be, sir?’
‘She’ll be perfectly safe, she’ll be wired.’
McGuire leaned forward, ‘Jesus Christ Almighty… Is that going to make an ounce of difference?’ He turned his shoulder, raised an arm towards the incident room, ‘Have you seen those pictures up there on the board?… What chance is she going to have against that bastard?’
Brennan placed his elbows on the desk, locked his fingers together. He allowed a few seconds of silence to settle in the room, gave McGuire a moment of reflection. ‘I wouldn’t put her in any danger; come on Stevie, I don’t see Elaine complaining.’
McGuire reeled back, placed his hands on his hips, ‘That’s because she’s too fucking ambitious for her own good… And you’re just taking advantage of that!’
‘No, I’m not. She’s been working the clubs with Collins and she’s proven herself… She’s the best person for the job.’
McGuire stared at Brennan, lifted his hands from his hips and smacked them off his thighs, ‘Fuck the job!’
Brennan rose from his chair; he could see eyes directed at him through the glass. ‘Stevie, now calm down.’
‘I’m serious; look at the state of this case: Gallagher’s made cunts of us all and now all you’re concerned about is getting him back, righting wrongs any old way…’
‘Stevie, that’s not true.’
‘Bullshit!.. I thought you would never put your team in danger, thought you looked out for people, but I was wrong.’ He turned for the door, yanked the handle. As he exited, the door swung behind him then clattered into the frame.
Brennan pressed his fingernails into the edge of the desk, lowered himself into his chair. He watched McGuire stride through the office at pace, all heads turning towards him; as he left the main door of Incident Room One the DS had lost none of his fervour.
Chapter 48
DI Rob Brennan travelled in the front of the van with Collins driving; there was a hint of rain in the air outside but the threat of more to come hadn’t materialised by the time they reached the roundabout at the Playhouse Theatre. There was already a number of people queuing in the taxi rank — young girls in short skirts and young
