'Willard sends his best. He wanted to be here but something came up.'
He paused. 'Does Tumbril mean anything to you?'
'Tumbril}'
'Yes.'
'How the fuck…?'
Hayder was staring at him, appalled. For a moment Faraday thought it was another wind-up, then realised that the reaction was genuine.
Whatever else had happened to his brain, he was still as paranoid as ever.
'I've taken Tumbril over,' Faraday said quietly. 'Thought you might like to know.'
'Really? No kidding?'
'Really. As of yesterday morning.'
'Poor you.' He closed his eyes and winced again. 'It's a bastard.'
Faraday waited for the pain to pass. A nurse was eyeing Hayder from the other side of the ward. At length Hayder signalled Faraday to carry on.
'No way.' Faraday shook his head. 'You need rest, mate. Not all this nonsense.'
'Tell me.' He meant it.
Faraday hesitated, then shrugged.
'OK.' He said, 'I've got a desk on Whale Island and half a million documents to read by the weekend. Listen to Willard and you'd think it's a breeze.'
'Willard's an ally, big time.' The mumble had sunk to a whisper. 'He's protection. Without him, you're fucked.'
Faraday nodded, wondering quite how far to take this conversation.
Hayder was struggling again. At last, he settled down.
'You know what the real problem's been?' His voice seemed suddenly stronger. 'Other people.'
'In the job, you mean?'
'Yeah. Compared to our lot, Mackenzie's a doddle. Criminals I can cope with. Coppers I can't.'
'Bent coppers?'
'Coppers with gripes. Coppers not getting enough at home. Coppers who think they should be running the bloody force. Something like Tumbril gives them the chance to have a grizzle.' He nodded. 'Big time.'
'So how come I never knew about it?'
'Because you were too busy doing a proper job.' He squeezed his eyes shut a moment. 'Pass me that drinks thing?'
There was a plastic cup with a straw on the bedside cabinet. Faraday held it while Hayder took a sip. Then his head was back on the pillow again, a thin film of sweat across his forehead.
'TCU are really pissed off.' Come what may, Hayder was going to complete this conversation. 'They think we've stolen their baby, and you know what? They're fucking right.'
'TCU? You mean Harry Wayte's lot?'
'Yeah.'
'You want to give me names?'
'I haven't got names. It's a team thing. They're good blokes really but they hate competition.'
'And you think that's — ' Faraday hunted for the word 'unhelpful?'
'I think it's a pain in the arse.' He paused for breath, turning his head on the pillow. 'You see that pretty one over there?' His eyes led Faraday to the nurse he'd noticed earlier. She was closer now, dispensing tablets from the nearby drugs trolley. 'She's the one who normally sorts me out. Her name's Julie. She can't wait to put me in bloody nappies. Eh, Jules?'
Faraday watched the nurse return his smile. Already, he was aware that he'd pushed Nick Hayder way too far. Another ten minutes of Tumbril, and he'd be back on the critical list.
'Listen, Nick.' He bent down towards the pillow. 'Just one more thing.'
'Go on.'
'What happened to put you in here?'
Hayder gazed up at him.
'Haven't a clue, mate,' he whispered at last.
'You can't remember anything? No incident? No details? No recall at all?'
'Nothing.' A tiny, painful shake of the head. 'I thought you might know.'
Suttle took Trudy Gallagher to a pub in Buriton, a picturesque commuter village tucked beneath the northern folds of the South Downs. Thursday night in early spring, the pub was nearly empty. Suttle and Trudy settled themselves in a corner next to the blazing log fire. A couple of pints and four Bacardi Breezers developed into a meal, and Trudy insisted on buying a bottle of champagne to go with it. By now, to Suttle's delight, she was well pissed.
'We celebrating?' Suttle poured her a second glass. 'Or what?'
'Yeah.' Trudy eyed him over the candle. 'Or at least I am.'
'Why's that, then?'
'You don't want to know…' She ducked her head and started to giggle.
'Try me.'
'No way. You'll think I'm completely dumb. Real wuss. Let's talk about you. Winter said you're married.'
'He lies.'
'Have been married?'
'No way. Who'd want a wife at my age?'
'What about your mum and dad?'
Suttle blinked. Trudy was drunker than he'd thought.
'What about them?'
'They still married?'
'Yeah. My dad's dotty about her. Always has been. He's like a kid when she's around. Can't keep his hands to himself.'
'Must be nice. Having parents like that.'
'I never really thought about it.' Suttle speared a chip. 'You?'
'It's just been me and Mum.'
'Always?'
'Since I can remember, yeah.'
'What about your dad?'
'I never knew him. Mum's had loads of blokes but no one who'd own up.'.
'To what?'
'Me.' She pulled a face and reached for her glass. 'Here's to us.'
The barmaid collected the empty plates and handed Suttle the menu.
Instead of dessert, Trudy settled for a rum and Coke, insisting on another pint for Suttle. Steak and kidney pudding seemed to have soaked up a little of the alcohol, and when Suttle asked about who she was seeing just now she took the question seriously.
'It's been mad.' She put her head on one side and began to twist a curl of hair around her finger. 'Last year or so, I've been like living with this older guy. His name's Mike. I've known him for years, friend of my mum's. My mum and I have never really, you know, got on, and there came a point where I had to move out, just had to.
Mike knew about all that. He was round our place all the time. Then he just phoned up one day and said come and live with me.'
'Just like that?
'Yeah. I didn't know what to say, not at first. He was married once, years ago, but he's been divorced for ages and he's got a really nice place up in Waterlooville Jacuzzi, double garage, big garden, the lot.
So…' She shrugged. 'I said yes.'
Suttle had heard this story from Winter, not in such detail but enough to suggest that Mike Valentine wasn't just lucky in the motor trade.
'You moved in with him? Like… properly?'
