to live. Not to mention what he might do to me.’
‘If he does anythin’ he’ll be back in custody.’
She rolled her eyes, threw her arms up. ‘Oh great. And I’ll be in the bleedin’ hospital.’
‘Sophie, it’s the only way out.’
‘For you, maybe.’
‘Well have you got any better ideas?’
‘Yeah.’
Clayton didn’t like the nasty light that had started to glow in Sophie’s eyes. ‘What?’
‘I tell them everything. Not you, your boss. About the informin’ I used to do. All the intel I supplied. The convictions that led to. Remind them what a good source I was.’ The light got nastier. ‘Then I tell them you remembered me from those days, came to see me. Wanted me to keep quiet about the freebies you used to get. But it wasn’t just freebies, was it?’
Clayton said nothing.
‘No,’ Sophie continued. ‘You weren’t content with that. You wanted to run the show as well, didn’t you? Keep your friends supplied. Strangers, too. That was you, wasn’t it? PC Pimp.’
‘Shut up…’
‘Yeah. That’s what you came to see me about. Because freebies, that’s nothing. But running your own little business empire… I don’t think that’ll go down too well. And I’ll tell them. That you said you’d keep my name out of it if I kept my mouth shut. That you even asked for a blow job for old times’ sake.’
‘That’s not-’
Sophie smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. ‘It’s the only way out,’ she echoed, mirroring his words back at him.
Clayton sighed, sat back. ‘This is so fucked.’
‘Ain’t it though.’
‘We have to think of something. Fast.’
The room, small already, began to feel overpoweringly claustrophobic.
They stared at each other.
Neither of them could think of anything to say.
44
‘You know,’ said Phil, as if imparting an intimate secret to an old friend, ‘you didn’t have to do all that. With the grab and the metal.’
‘No?’ Brotherton looked genuinely interested.
Phil was working Brotherton hard, but not letting the other man know what he was doing. The technique was working well. He had seen hardened criminals respond to it. Even coppers who had strayed over the line and ended up on the other side of the table responded to it. And they had been trained not to.
But Phil didn’t want to get cocky. He stayed focused, concentrated. He still had a long way to go.
‘No,’ he said. ‘If you’d wanted to do Clayton or me some damage, why didn’t you just hit one of us?’
‘That would have been assault, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but it could have bought you time; you could have got away. And then a good lawyer could have argued it out later. Said I was harassing you or something.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ Phil thought it best not to mention the attempted murder charge now hanging over Brotherton’s head. He didn’t want to break the flow. ‘You could have done that. I mean,’ he said, ‘you’ve got the muscles for it.’ He waited a few seconds, let his words sink in, then continued. ‘I like to think I keep myself in pretty good shape, but to get the kind of body you’ve got, you must be very dedicated. That’s not just from working in the yard, is it?’
‘Nah,’ said Brotherton, unconsciously flexing his biceps. ‘I work out.’
‘Thought so. How long have you been doing that, then?’
Brotherton’s eyes looked to the right. ‘Since my early twenties. About fifteen years?’
‘That is dedication. Whereabouts?’
Again a look to the right. ‘Used to work out in the leisure centre on the Avenue of Remembrance. But now it’s the gym up in High Woods.’
‘Good place. I like a good workout but I’m between gyms at the moment. Just moved house.’ He laughed. ‘But I’m nowhere near your league. What’s High Woods like? Would I like it?’
Brotherton frowned, his eyes falling down to the left. ‘Yeah. It’s a gym, you know? Leisure facilities, they’ve got a pool, sauna.’ He nodded. ‘Not as bad as some places, not as cliquey. But you know. Gym’s a gym when it comes down to it.You get out what you put in.’
Phil nodded, apparently giving the matter some thought. ‘Good.’ He put his hand behind his back, moved it up and down. There was a knocking on the mirror.
Brotherton jumped. Phil affected to.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘They must want me. I’ll be right back.’
He got up and left the room.
Marina was waiting for him when he entered the room.
‘Did you get all that?’ he said.
‘Yep. Eyes to the right, he’s remembering. Eyes to the left, he’s thinking.’
Phil gave a grim smile. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t have a squint or a nervous tic. Then we’re completely buggered.’
Marina returned the smile.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘We good to go?’
‘I think so.’
Neurolinguistic interviewing technique involved two different kinds of questions: remembering and cognitive. The innocuous questions, as well as lulling the subject into a false sense of security, established a yardstick to judge all subsequent answers by. A subject’s body language would be different for each kind of answer. When asked a remembering question, Brotherton looked down to the right. But when asked a thinking question, he looked away to the left. Phil and Marina now knew that if he was asked a remembering question and answered as he would for a thinking question, he was buying himself time, working on an answer. In short, probably lying.
‘Sorry about all that… stuff. In there,’ said Phil.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Marina, her head down in her notes. ‘You were working. No apologies necessary.’
‘Right,’ he said, and picked up a file folder from the desk. It had Brotherton’s name written on the front. ‘Off I go. Wish me luck.’
She smiled. ‘You don’t need it.’
He returned the smile. ‘Do it anyway.’
‘Good luck.’
‘Thank you.’
He left her alone once more. She looked at the mirror. Waited for it to start again.
45
Clayton looked around the room. He was beginning to know how it felt to be on the other side of the table. Like he was the one trapped, about to give himself away, be caught out by his own lies. He looked at Sophie. She caught his eye, glanced away in disgust. He didn’t blame her.
He checked his watch, sighed. It seemed to be showing the same time as when he had last looked. Another sigh. Like waiting in a doctor’s surgery, he thought. For test results to come back and confirm the worst. Something bad. Something terminal.
Another sigh. He resisted the temptation to check his watch again.
