The room was very basic, designed for sleeping in and littleelse. It did have its own en suite bathroom, after a fashion. This amounted to littlemore than a panelled-off area with a tiny shower and sink, plus a toilet that Kenthad to practically wedge himself into in order to sit down. As for the beds, theywere little more than standard Army issue.
It was all highly unsatisfactory as far as Kent was concerned.He had stayed in such accommodation when he had been sent on training coursesin his younger days in the force, but at his level he expected better. Inrecent years he had attended conferences where he’d stayed in some very plushhotels, all expenses paid, including the minibar.
Kent had enjoyed these annual events. They had amounted to littlemore than a back-slapping exercise for him and his colleagues, followed by thebest piss-up of the year. The room he was in now was a significant comedown. Itwas all down to the cost-cutting that was scything through the force, courtesyof his nemesis, Gideon Summerfield.
Summerfield had cancelled this year’s conference and informedhim that, in its place, he would be sent to this godforsaken place for a two-daytraining event under the title of “Embracing Change”.
Kent knew he was going to hate it, and he was right. Set inthe middle of nowhere, he and all the other D.I.s from the local area had spentthe whole of the first day out in the woods on a variety of team-building exercises.This was a waste of time as far as Kent was concerned. He hardly ever saw theD.I.s from the other towns so why did he need to bond with them in this way? Theycould have done that just as well at the bar at the conference. But Gideon wasn’thaving any of that. At the start of the first day he had told them that theyneeded to “step out of their comfort zone”.
He had read the brochure for the place which claimed tooffer “team-building in a mature and beautiful woodland setting”. For Kent,this translated to “having a miserable time in a horrible muddy mess”. He spentthe whole day wheezing and groaning as his body struggled to cope with havingmuscles called upon that hadn’t been utilised in years. Being strapped in a harnessand hauled up to the top of a hundred-foot-tall, 300-year-old oak tree hadn’tbeen his idea of fun. On top of that it had pissed down with rain all day.
The evening had not been so bad. After his exertions in theforest Kent was relieved to discover a fully stocked bar in the large, woodencabin that formed the centrepiece of the centre. There was also a restaurantwhich was a lot better than he had been expecting. The accommodation had ledhim to speculate that they might be eating in some sort of mess hall but itturned out to be very impressive. Apparently the training centre also doubledas a wedding venue which explained the round tables they were seated at.
The dinner was excellent and the alcohol had flowed freely. Therewere about forty delegates at the training event, most of whom Kent knew from pastevents. Apart from around half a dozen women, the rest were men and themajority were around Kent’s age, with very few below the age of thirty-five.
Knowing of Summerfield’s fierce reputation, Kent was nothappy when he plonked himself down at his table, right next to him. Kent hadnot had a huge amount of dealing with the commissioner prior to this event and hadcome with preconceived thoughts that he was a monster.
However, as the evening wore on, Summerfield had come acrossas easygoing, friendly and funny. He was not only constantly topping up Kent’sglass with red wine, but also eagerly engaging him in conversation, askingabout his family and hobbies.
With a large amount of drink sloshing around inside him, Kenthad increasingly let his guard down during the meal. In his inebriated state hefelt as if they were getting on famously. Perhaps he had been wrong aboutSummerfield. When the commissioner joked to him about how much money he wasmaking on the side through his expenses, Kent had foolishly let slip a few fiddlesof his own.
“You know they say there’s no such thing as a free lunch,”he remembered himself saying. “Well, that’s not strictly true. As long as weare more than ten miles away from the office we are allowed to claim up to £10a day for lunch expenses. It comes in very handy, that. Every Friday we go on trafficduty on the A34 and stop off at a Harvester near Oxford for the early birdspecial. It’s exactly eleven miles from the station.”
“That’s very interesting, Richard,” Summerfield had replied,without a hint of disapproval. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Kent thought he was being very clever at the time with twobottles of red wine inside him, but even now, four months later, he stillcringed at the memory.
What Summerfield had done had been a really dirty trick, pretendingto be his friend, filling him up with wine and setting traps for him to fallright into. Kent had been an idiot to fall for it. It should have beenblatantly obvious what the man was up to but as usual Kent had let alcoholcloud his judgement. Summerfield had been very clever; he hadn’t been encouragingKent to knock back the booze for nothing. He knew it would loosen his tongue.
It hadn’t stopped with the meal. Later in the evening whenthey had retired to the bar, Summerfield had created an atmosphere of ‘all ladstogether’, telling a few mild sexist jokes to the crowd of men around the bar.Encouraged by this, Kent and several of the others had trotted out a few tiredold gags of their own. With all of the women delegates sticking together out ofearshot on the other side of the room, there wasn’t a hint of politicalcorrectness in sight.
He had gone to bed feeling great, but in the cold
