‘ Not a one,’ she said. ‘I’ll admit I’ve schemed and manipulated and flirted and played people off against each other — but I haven’t slept with anyone. I’ve worked damn hard, studied damn hard and put myself out for the sake of advancement, but I haven’t slept with anyone… with one exception. The man at the top. Dave August. Our beloved leader.’
She paused, tucked her dressing-gown tightly around her legs. ‘Dave August was different. I got my job as his Staff Officer fair and square. I had the qualifications: the degree, Bramshill, the Media Studies courses… It was only after that we fell in love. Or at least I fell in love with him.
‘ He’s married. Wife’s a stunner for her age… and he’s got two teenage sons. He said he’d leave her for me. I believed him. Same old stupid story, I suppose. Naive mistress… I’ve been married twice myself, no offspring though. Both marriages were a joke. Neither could hack being the husband of a career lady. I promised myself never to get involved again, but then along comes doe-eyed Dave August. He wanted to get on, I wanted to get on, so I decided to help him so that he could help me in return. Was that so wrong? Helping someone I loved?’
‘ No, it wasn’t,’ said Donaldson.
‘ I groomed him to be good on TV. The camera loves him now, you know. He’s had more TV exposure than any other Chief Constable outside the Met. All down to me… and I’ll be honest, I did use my personal influence on him to get me on this investigation. I thought I’d stuff one up the CID. They still operate the “Token Woman” syndrome, though they’d deny it. An empire run by dinosaurs and I thought I could take it on. I should have known they’d close ranks on me in the end. God, it would have been wonderful… and we were so close to cracking it, too. Then it all went wrong. Jack Crosby dying, FB hating me, believing all those lies about me… those poor policemen dying, Ken McClure — Christ, I’m so sorry about him — and then Dave believing all that poison from FB. All the men clubbing together like a wagon train in a circle, protecting themselves from the evil woman… and suddenly I’m the villain and Dave thinks he’s been manipulated by me, that I’ve used him. In truth, he’s the one who used me; used my skills, fucked me when he should have been at home with his wife… No doubt he’ll still get his Inspectorate post and I’ll be left in his wake. Oh God, it’s all so complicated.’
‘ So what are you going to do about tonight?’
‘ Nothing.’
‘ What? You can’t do nothing! He raped you and beat up on you!’
‘ Can you see me going into the local copshop and telling them their Chief Constable’s just raped me and given me a slapping? Get real, Karl. There’s nothing I can do.’
‘ Well, there’s something I can do — kill the fucker or at least make him eat shit.’
Karen shook her head slowly, a sad smile on her face. ‘No, you’ll do nothing of the sort, Karl. I decide what happens here. It’s my body he violated, my mind he twisted, my face he punched.’
‘ At least go for a prosecution,’ Donaldson pleaded.
‘ And what good would that do? He’d more than likely be acquitted. It would come out that we were having an affair. It’d just soil reputations for no good end result. I’d just be stirring it for the sake of vindictiveness…’
The shrill ring of the phone interrupted the words. Donaldson picked it up without thinking and said, ‘Hello.’
‘ Is that Agent Donaldson?’
‘ Yes, who’s that?’
‘ Chief Superintendent Fanshaw-Bayley. My, my, fancy you being there. May I speak to Miss Wilde, please — that is, if she’s not too breathless. ‘
‘ Fuck you,’ said Donaldson. He handed the phone across to Karen.
‘ It’s that creep Fanshaw-Bayley.’
Karen took a deep breath and said in her best telephone voice, ‘Yes sir, can I help you?’
‘ I suppose this is a stupid question now, but is the Chief there?’
‘ No.’
‘ Has he been there?’
‘ Yes — about two hours ago.’
‘ You have been busy… Oh, by the way, we’ve caught your man. Goodbye.’ He hung up.
Karen handed the phone back to Donaldson.
‘ What the hell did he want?’
‘ Just to rub it in,’ she said unhappily. ‘They’ve caught Hinksman.’
‘ Damn!’ Donaldson hung his head. ‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘ Nothing. Get through this discipline thing then take some time off, go on holiday. Forget about promotion. Try and wangle a Chief Inspector’s post in a quiet town out in the sticks somewhere, then maybe think about the future, once I’ve got my head back on line.’
‘ You shouldn’t let it rest. It’s wrong that he won’t suffer one way or the other. He needs knocking off his perch… and I’d love to be the one to do the knocking. But if you’ve made your decision…’
‘ I have, Karl. Thanks for your concern.’ She held out a hand and he took it. Her skin was soft and smooth. She smelled wonderful. He looked at her lovely face, now all swollen, longing to tell her how much in love he was, but this was neither the right time nor the right place.
After he’d rung home, Henry hobbled stiffly into the hospital snack bar and sat down next to FB. He felt slightly better, the painkillers beginning to take effect.
‘ Just what the hell is all this about?’ Henry demanded of him. ‘The M6 bomb, today’s stuff… What’s going on, boss?
‘ I’m not all that sure,’ FB admitted. ‘For reasons you don’t have to know about, I’m a little out of touch with this investigation, but I intend to put that right from now on. Oh, did you know Jack Crosby died today too?’
‘ Yes, I’d heard.’
‘ One of the old school,’ FB said reminiscently.
Thank God he’s gone then, Henry thought to himself.
‘ Anyway,’ said FB, slapping the table top and bringing his thoughts back to the present, ‘I know that bitch Wilde told you to take a hike, but I want you back as of now, OK? I’ll sort it with your DCI. And forget about that complaint made by the BBC–I’ll fettle that for you too. As far as I’m concerned, that bastard deserved to get thrown into the river.’
Henry nodded. ‘Thanks, boss. I would like to apologise to him at some stage, though.’
‘ Whatever. ‘
‘ So, do I get the opportunity to interview Hinksman?’
‘ No. That would be bad practice. I’ve already assigned a team for that. What I want from you is background, so that they can go into the interview fully briefed. I need to know exactly what’s going on as soon as possible. I believe there’s some Mob connection here. I suggest you liaise with a guy called Karl Donaldson. He’s an FBI agent who was working here with Ken McClure on a related matter. Get a background to Hinksman, everything you can about him. You know what I mean. From birth onwards. I don’t have to spell it out for you. I want a report on my desk by four p.m. tomorrow. Don’t worry’ — he put up a hand to reassure Henry — ‘just a brief summary for starters; after that I want you to go into some depth. OK, Henry?’
‘ Yeah, sure,’ said Henry.
‘ Actually you don’t sound too sure. Problem?’
‘ I was going to report sick.’
‘ Get the fuck out of here! Don’t be a Nancy boy. You’re a detective, aren’t you? We don’t go sick, or didn’t you know? Beside which, I want you at headquarters at seven a.m. sharp tomorrow. Live interviews for local radio and Breakfast TV.’
‘ You are fuckin’ joking, boss.’
‘ Nope. Best bib and tucker. And be there. That’s an order. You’re a national hero, my boy.’
Just before 4 p.m. the following day, Henry Christie placed his initial summary, as requested, on FB’s desk.
‘ Sir’ (he had written), ‘I have liaised with Agent Donaldson at your suggestion, as well as detectives from the Serious Crime Squad in Manchester, and I have compiled this quick report which I hope goes some way to explaining the events of the past few days. All it is, really, is a jotting down of the things I’ve learned today, plus
