‘Nice to know I’m wanted for something, even if it isn’t my abilities.’
At the front desk, Holm was annoyed to learn Cornish wasn’t on-site.
‘She’s out on a job,’ the desk sergeant said. ‘Dunwich Heath. She’ll be gone a while so she left instructions you were to head up there.’
Back in the car, Javed plotted the destination into his phone. ‘It’s on the coast,’ he said. ‘Looks like a nice beach. Pity I didn’t bring my Speedos.’
Half an hour later they were driving through heathland towards the sea. Yellow-tipped gorse and brown heather, a hint of the purple to come once that too was fully in flower. The road ended at a terrace of white cottages stuck out on their own. A grey sea churned in over a narrow strip of beach behind the cottages, and to the right stood several police vehicles. Two uniformed officers were preventing people in the nearby car park from venturing onto the heath and one of the officers waved down Holm as he drove up. Holm lowered the window and slipped out his identification.
‘I’m looking for Detective Chief Superintendent Cornish,’ Holm said. ‘Is she here?’
‘MI5?’ The officer peered down at Holm’s ID and raised his eyebrows at his colleague. He pointed across the heath to where several figures in white suits ghosted back and forth in a clump of stunted pines. ‘She’s over there.’
Holm thanked the officers and parked up.
They got out of the car, walked towards the trees and were met by an officer with a tablet which, when Holm flashed his ID once more, was thrust out for a signature.
‘I don’t think so,’ Holm said. He tapped his nose. ‘Not for Five, huh?’
For a moment the officer looked as if he was about to make a scene, but then he shrugged and let them pass.
‘Sir?’ Javed said.
‘A trace,’ Holm said. ‘As in we don’t want to leave one.’
Cornish stood over by the clump of pines conversing with a couple of white-suited CSIs. She had her back to them as Holm and Javed approached but was instantly recognisable from the long blonde hair which lay tightly plaited down to the small of her back. She had an inch or two on both the CSIs and a stature that suggested she could hold her own against anyone in a fight, male or female.
‘Stephen,’ Cornish said as she turned, offering her hand and smiling. ‘Great to see you again.’
Holm reached forward and took her hand. It seemed ridiculously formal considering he’d made love with this woman, lain in a post-coital embrace, their sweat mingling as their heartbeats slowed.
‘You too, Billie.’ Holm smiled back. Cornish looked as good as ever. Better. He had trouble believing she was forty. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Yes. The last case we worked on together was the girl we found in the Thames upstream of Teddington Lock. Three bin liners containing the body parts, the bags weighed down with bricks. If you remember, she was the wife of a right-wing nutcase who was planning to blow up a synagogue. She tried to do the right thing, but he killed her before she could report him. Of course in a strange way she still managed to put him behind bars. All’s well that ends well, hey?’
‘I wish you hadn’t reminded me. The memory’s cheered me up no end.’
‘Sorry for dragging you out here, but needs must.’ Cornish turned and gestured at the white terrace of cottages. ‘We can grab a coffee over at the National Trust cafe in a bit and have a chat about what you want from me.’
‘Sure, but one of your officers can help us. All we want to do is get the details for a crime that happened on your patch.’
‘Sorry?’ Cornish shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. You could have done that from London using the PNC. Why did you need to come all the way out here? Have MI5 not being paying their broadband bills or something?’
‘Or something.’ Holm stood with his hands in his pockets. Said nothing else.
‘Is this what you meant by getting my hands dirty?’
‘Look, if the case turns out to be of interest we’ll want more information. A lot more information. This is the easiest way to investigate without arousing suspicion.’
‘You could simply have phoned or emailed.’
Holm once more kept silent. Shrugged his shoulders.
‘National security, right?’ Cornish laughed and began to walk away. She gestured at the officer with the tablet. ‘See Mike over there. He’ll do it. If you need a printout or more info go back to HQ. I’ll let them know you’re coming. If you’re still around in an hour or so we can have that coffee, otherwise it’s been nice seeing you again, Stephen.’
‘I thought she was an old buddy of yours?’ Javed said once Cornish was out of earshot. ‘Doesn’t seem very friendly to me. Brushed you off like a speck of dandruff.’
‘It’s because we’re spooks,’ Holm said. ‘Not much love for us in the police force. Sometimes I wonder whose side they think we’re on.’
Was that it? Holm wondered, or was there something else. He thought they’d split amicably – after all she was the one who’d wanted to make the break – but perhaps there was a hint of regret layered in her brusqueness. Perhaps, unbelievably, there was still a spark of something between them, something that could be rekindled. On the other hand, perhaps he was just kidding himself.
They walked across to the officer Cornish had pointed out and made the request for the crime look-up.
‘Some guy called Ben Western,’ Holm said, trying to appear
