is for other people to judge.
Most of us have to make do with each other.'
'I've tried that.'
'And?'
'It's falling apart.'
'Because of the job?'
'Partly, yes. There's — ' he shrugged '- a conflict of interest.
Interests plural, if you want the truth. My partner thinks she can change the world. My son thinks the same. I admire them for trying but I know they'll fail.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm a policeman. I know what people are like. Criminals.
Bosses. Colleagues. I see it every day. On the other hand…' He frowned, trying to concentrate, trying to tease out the essence of what he wanted to say. 'I'm the first to get behind my partner, my son.
It's vital someone has a go. Even if they fail.'
Briefly, he explained about Eadie's commitment to Ambrym, the trust she'd vested in J-J, the drugs video they were making tough, uncompromising, brutally realistic.
'Has it occurred to you they may not fail?'
'They will. I know they will. Drugs are like rain, like gravity.
Whatever we do, they'll still be there. That's the way of the world.
Blood and treasure. Greed. Power. Taking advantage. That's why people like me have a job to go to every morning.'
'You should be glad, thankful.'
'I know. And most of the time I am.'
'So where's the problem?'
'The problem is I'm piggy in the middle.' Faraday laughed, suddenly struck by the phrase.
'And that's uncomfortable?'
'Impossible sometimes. It turns you into someone you're not. You can feel it happening, feel it inside you. Next thing you know, you're sitting in the Dolphin, ordering that second pint, losing your grip.'
'And grip's important?'
'Grip's essential. From where I sit, grip's everything. No grip, no job.'
'OK.' Phillimore conceded the point. 'And if it comes to no job?'
'No nothing.' Faraday blinked, astonished by this small truth. Did the job matter to him that much? Was it true what people said about coppers? Once a policeman, always a policeman?
'No nothing,' he repeated. 'Maybe it's that simple.'
Winter was in his car outside the duty magistrate's Old Portsmouth flat when he finally got hold of Jimmy Suttle. Getting the search warrant had been harder than he'd anticipated. Even with the intelligence from Dave Pullen, the magistrate had pointed out the lack of hard evidence against Barry Leggat, and it was only Winter's insistence that a search of these premises might have a significant impact on the current explosion of drug abuse that had finally won the woman's grudging approval. Anything, she'd said, to stem the flood of increasingly young druggies through her courtroom.
Now, Winter wanted Suttle's full attention.
'The address is 17 Oakmount Road,' he said. 'I've got to organise a dog. There's a lay-by round the corner. Meet you there for seven.'
'Can't do it.'
'What?' Winter was staring at the mobile.
'I promised Trude I'd meet her for nine. We're going to Forty Below.
Why don't you tap up one of the married blokes? They'll jump at the overtime.'
Winter was about to give Suttle an earful about the wisdom of appearing with Trudy Gallagher on Bazza's turf, then paused, struck by another thought.
'You going to be there for long?'
'Where?'
'Forty Below.'
'Haven't a clue. Depends on Trude. Couple of hours at least. Why?'
Winter didn't answer. The warrant lay beside him on the passenger seat. A decent search might take a couple of hours, with a good dog maybe less. If they scored a result, he'd have to haul Leggat down to the Bridewell and book him in. The paperwork would take another half-hour, max, and if they'd lifted a decent quantity of gear he wouldn't need to start interviewing until the following day. Misty Gallagher was in London. That left him plenty of time to get down to Forty Below and have a word or two with young Jimmy before the lad dragged Trudy off to bed.
'You still there?' It was Suttle.
'Yeah.' Winter nodded. 'Forget the search.'
Faraday was up in the se afront apartment, watching television, by the time Eadie made it back from London. She'd taken a cab from the station and now, exhausted, she bent over him on the long sofa. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then pulled back.
'You've been drinking,' she said.
'That's right.'
'You're pissed.' She was looking at the bottle of South African red on the floor by his foot.
'Right again.'
'Why?' The smile of amusement on her face made Faraday reach up for her. She sank briefly down beside him.
'Come to apologise.' His smile widened into a grin.
'Who has?'
'Me.'
'Why?'
'I'll tell you about it.' He nodded towards the screen. 'How was the demo?'
'Average. You eaten at all? Only I'm starving.'
Faraday nodded, watching her as she left the sofa and headed for the kitchen. He turned back to the TV, watching the now nightly bombardment of Baghdad. A minute or two later, Eadie was back standing beside the sofa, an enormous sandwich in her hand. She wolfed it down, telling Faraday about the Al Jazeera footage between mouthfuls. J-J was lashed to the PC at Ambrym, knocking the stuff together. He should be proud of the boy. Natural eye for the telling cut.
'Al Jazeera?'
Eadie looked down at him, then began to laugh. Events had moved so fast these last couple of days, she'd forgotten to tell him about the invitation from the Stop the War people. She and J-J were putting together a video to bring the world to its senses. Knock-out stuff.
'Really?'
'Yeah.'
'And your drugs thing?'
'Rough cut ready by tomorrow. I'll tell you the rest when you're sober.' She glanced at her watch, then nodded down at the bottle. 'I wouldn't stay up if I were you. It's going to be a late one.'
Faraday gazed up at her, lost again.
'You're off? Already?'
'Fraid so.' She bent to the sofa and kissed him briefly on the cheek.
'Paracetamol's in the bathroom cabinet. See you in the morning.'
It was dusk by the time Winter was ready to launch the search of Leggat's house. Cathy Lamb had detailed one of the older of the squad's DCs, Danny French, to make the rendezvous in Leigh Park, and a dog handler had turned up in a white Escort van. The dog's name, he said was Pepys, a German shepherd. He was new to the game and occasionally overeager.
They drove in convoy to Leggat's address. Number 17 was an ex-council house that had been given the full
