The Disappeared

She went to hit him. McAvoy dropped his papers, caught her wrist and gripped it hard.

'Are you crazy?'

'Fuck you.'

As if by reflex, she grabbed a ballpoint from the desk to her right, swung her arm wildly and stabbed it hard into the side of his shoulder. McAvoy exclaimed in pain, releasing her wrist as he clutched at his shoulder.

'Je-sus.'

Jenny stepped backwards, breathing hard, the pen still gripped tight in her left hand. McAvoy looked up at her, jaw clenched. He flicked out a hand, smacking her smartly across the face and sending her tumbling back against the rail of the dock. She caught hold of it and pulled herself upright, more stunned than hurt. She turned to see him straightening, catching his breath. She flinched, expecting another blow, but he stooped and gathered his scattered papers from the floor.

Holding a hand to her stinging cheek, she watched him sifting and checking the disordered documents as if she wasn't there, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder. There was something obsessive, pathetic almost, in the way he fussed over them.

'I shocked you, didn't I?' Jenny said, feeling a pulse of adrenalin coursing through her veins. 'You weren't expecting that.'

'I think you shocked yourself,' he said, without looking up.

'I knew you'd be an unrepentant liar.'

'You know what you are? A danger to yourself.'

'And what are you? A coward? Are you frightened I'm going to have you put in jail?'

McAvoy shuffled his papers against the surface of the desk and turned to face her. 'And why would you do that?'

'For trying to hijack my inquest. Trying to use it to reinstate your tawdry career. I can't imagine how humiliating it must be going from big-shot partner to outdoor clerk.'

'At least I never cracked in court,' he said. 'No one could ever say I flinched.'

Jenny had wondered when he would reveal the fact he'd dug the dirt and use her past against her. It was a relief. She could see him for what he was now.

'You lied with a straight face - is that the best you can say about yourself?'

'I've never lied to you. I tried to push you towards the truth.'

'Oh, really?'

'I gave you leads, evidence you wouldn't have got anywhere else. I got you Madog and Tathum.'

'How can I trust you? How do I know Madog is for real? He could just be another one you've bought.'

'You're the coroner, Mrs Cooper. Work it out. I've got a hearing to get to.'

As he stepped past her, Jenny said, 'You look terrified.'

He paused at the door and looked back at her. 'Maybe if you'd been a stronger woman I might have found a little more courage, but you're really quite a fragile flower, aren't you, Jenny? Damaged, I'd say. So why don't you let yourself off the hook. You're out of your depth.'

'You're full of shit.'

McAvoy said, 'I'm sorry. I made a mistake upsetting you. And as you said, Mrs Jamal's gone, so what does it matter any more?' He smiled faintly and turned to go.

Jenny said, 'You still haven't explained why you hid things from me.'

He hesitated a second time, then dipped his head. He addressed his quiet words to the door. 'I drink, Jenny. It eases my burden but it makes me trust others even less than myself. I look at people I've known for years and they change before my eyes.'

'What were you thinking? What do you want from me?'

'It's of no interest to you.'

'Try me.'

He shook his head.

'Tell me, Alec. Let yourself off the hook.'

A pause. 'Proof, I suppose . . .'

'Of what?'

'That He hasn't completely got me yet.'

'Who?'

'The author of all this sadness.'

'You're not making sense.'

'No . . .' He glanced back at her briefly with pale, red- rimmed eyes. 'What happened at her flat? I heard there were men in white suits there all weekend.'

She hesitated. 'Something was found on her body, a substance.'

'You trust them? Who knows what dirty tricks they'd play. She was a very inconvenient woman, Mrs Jamal.'

'I'm not sure who to trust.'

He nodded with a heavy sadness. 'Maybe you are better off out of it. If they'll bury the truth, they won't worry about burying you.'

He pushed out into a busy corridor.

'Alec — ' Jenny called out after him, but he was gone.

McAvoy's expression lodged behind her eyes like a vision of a drowning man. She was left with the unsettling feeling that she had got barely to the threshold of something; that he had darker secrets to tell but had spared her for fear of dragging her down with him. She had gone to him hoping to exorcise one ghost, but had come away pursued by several. She should have felt shock or humiliation at her behaviour - no better than the girl lashing out at her lawyer - but the sense of disjuncture she felt was overwhelming. Her mind, body and emotions seemed to occupy three separate spheres that were tugging apart.

Alison looked up from her desk as she entered and spoke in an urgent whisper.

'There you are, Mrs Cooper. Mr Moreton's here to see you. I sent him through.'

'Moreton? What does he want?'

'He wouldn't say. He's been waiting nearly an hour.' There was a definite note of censure in her voice.

'I was busy.'

'Wait till you see what's come in over the weekend.' Alison pointed to a thick pile of fresh death reports.

'I'll get to them later.'

Jenny braced herself and went through to her office.

Moreton set down his newspaper and greeted her warmly, but with a certain reserve. 'Jenny. How lovely to see you again.'

He extended a hand.

'Simon.'

'It's been far too long. When was it, August?'

'It must have been.' Jenny had done her best to forget the summer drinks party the Ministry had held in the Middle Temple Hall. Moreton had drunk too much cheap champagne - as had she - and made a clumsily veiled pass, mentioning several times that his wife was in France with the children. Unluckily for him, it was chiefly the mention of his family which had stopped her from being tempted.

'You didn't get my phone messages?' he said.

'I was out until late last night,' she said, taking off her coat.

'Never mind. I'm always glad of the excuse.' He flashed a flirtatious smile and settled back in his seat.

'I can guess what brings you here.' She pulled her chair away from her desk, placing it at an informal angle. 'I presume you've heard about Mrs Jamal?'

'That would be something of an understatement even by civil service standards. I kept Gillian Golder and her people at bay - didn't want to put you under any undue stress - but blind panic wouldn't be a misdescription of their current state.'

'Do they have any theories about where the caesium came from?'

'Theories, yes; suspects, none at all. I believe they've pulled a few people in, including one of your