supposed to see, by the way? There’s things I need to be doing. Thirty-five people died this afternoon. I don’t see how it serves their families to have me kicking my heels down here.’
‘Didn’t they tell you?’ Wood said, resignation on his face.
‘No, they didn’t. I was just told that one of my lads was in a spot of bother.’
Wood shook his head. ‘Rings no bells with me. Hang on a minute.’ He picked up a phone. ‘I’ve got DCI Jordan here…Well, I think you should make time…With respect, we’ve all got a lot on our plates this afternoon…’ He looked at the phone in disgust and put it down. ‘Give them a minute,’ he said, parodying their tough tones.
A couple of minutes passed, then the man Carol knew only as Johnny came through the door that led to the main part of the station. ‘DCI Jordan. If you’d come with me, please.’
‘Where And why?’ Carol asked, her temper hanging by a thread.
Johnny glanced at Wood. ‘I’ll explain everything in a minute, if you’d just come with me.’
Carol sketched a wave to Wood. ‘If I’m not back in half an hour, Sergeant, call Mr Brandon.’
‘There’s no need to be so bolshie, you know,’ Johnny said plaintively as they climbed the stairs to the main part of the station. ‘We really are all on the same side.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ Carol said. ‘Now, why the hell am I here?’
Johnny led her into a small office and waved her to a chair. He picked up another chair, turned it round and straddled it, his muscular arms folded across the back. ‘I’d really like for us to build some bridges here. It doesn’t help your team or mine if we’re at odds.’
Carol shrugged. ‘So talk to me. Don’t act as if my team is part of the problem. Don’t patronize us. For a start, you could try treating me like a ranking officer by telling me why I’m here.’
‘Point taken. Your boy Sam?’
‘See what I mean? “Your boy Sam.” He’s Detective Constable Evans. Yes?’
Johnny inclined his head. ‘DC Evans was at the stadium. What was he supposed to be doing?’
‘Are you interviewing me?’ Carol said, not even trying to keep the incredulity out of her voice.
Johnny ran a hand over his shaven head, his expression perplexed. ‘Look, he said, sounding exasperated. ‘We got off on the wrong foot. You don’t like us trampling all over your ground, and I totally understand that. I am not interrogating you, I’m just trying to clarify something before it turns into a situation for all of us.’
‘That’s not how it feels.’
‘No. I realize that. We’re not very good at manners. We’re not supposed to be. They knock the etiquette out of us when they train us for CTC. I’m sorry. I know we come off as arseholes, but that’s how we need to be, doing what we do. We’re not stupid, though. We didn’t get our ranks because of our size.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of frankness. ‘One of our teams found your DC in a quiet corner of the stadium with a young Asian male dressed in overalls. He was clearly questioning him. When our guys appeared, the witness, suspect, whatever, clammed up. And your boy refused to share the product of his interview. So we brought them back here. Since when neither of them has said a bloody word. Apart from their names. Oh, and the Asian wants a lawyer. So, I thought to myself, what’s the best way to resolve this? And I thought of you.’
‘You thought of me how? As somebody you could bully? Somebody you could intimidate?’
Johnny gave a harsh sigh. ‘No. I thought of you as somebody who had impressed me with her smarts. Somebody who had a rep in the Met…’
‘What do you mean, a rep in the Met?’ Carol demanded defensively.
Johnny looked disbelieving. ‘A rep as a bloody good cop,’ he said. ‘What do you think? People I respect think you’re the dog’s bollocks. So I thought you were the one who could persuade DC Evans to co-operate with this investigation.’
‘Where is he?’
Johnny considered for a long moment. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to him.’
She followed him back down the hall to another interview room. Sam Evans was sitting on a chair tipped back against the wall, hands clasped behind his head in an attitude of relaxation. When Carol walked in, he jerked forward and stood up. ‘Sorry you got dragged into this,’ he said.
Carol turned to Johnny. ‘Could you leave us, please?’
Johnny bowed his head and retreated. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with ill-disguised contempt. ‘What have they said I’ve done?’
They say they found you interviewing a young Asian male wearing overalls at Victoria Park. That the pair of you clammed up and refused to say anything. That you won’t hand over the product of your interview.’ Carol leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest.
Sam gave an incredulous little laugh. ‘That’s one spin you could put on it. Try it from another angle. For a start, he’s wearing overalls because he’s a cleaner at the stadium. Nothing suspicious about that, is there? For another thing, he’s clearly not a suspect. His name is Vijay Gupta. He’s a Hindu, not a Muslim. So it seems to me that the CTC guys are getting their knickers in a twist over somebody who is in no sense a potential suspect. I don’t have any product to hand over, ma’am. We’d barely started talking.’
Carol didn’t know whether to believe him. He was, she knew, the perfect dissembler. What mattered was getting him out of there. Then she could find out whether he was telling the truth. ‘Give me a minute,’ she said.
She went back outside, where Johnny was waiting. ‘There’s nothing to tell. The man he had just begun questioning isn’t even a Muslim. Now, if you’re sincere about building bridges, you shouldn’t stop me leaving here right now, with my officer. And I suggest you let Mr Gupta go home, since the only thing he’s done to warrant your suspicion is to talk to a police officer.’ She turned round, opened the door and said, ‘DC Evans? Time we were on our way.’
