Back at Challis Street, DCS Goddard was in Isaac’s office. ‘How did it go?’ the superintendent said.
‘According to Brice, his broadcast was aimed indirectly at Davies, not at us.’
‘Do you believe him?’ Goddard asked. Isaac could see that the man was on edge.
‘Not totally. He plays the game well.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’ll sing your praises while at the same time holding a knife to your back. He confirmed that they’re trying to get rid of Davies.’
‘They?’
‘The government is my assumption. He wasn’t very specific.’
‘They are, but Davies continues to get out from under. The man’s fighting back, and we’re the front line.’
‘Again?’
‘I’ve been summoned to the inner sanctum.’
‘To Davies’s office?’
‘Today, and you’re coming.’
‘Why me?’
‘Davies has asked for both of us.’
‘I’ve a murder investigation to conduct,’ Isaac said, knowing it was a futile protest.
‘We leave within ten minutes. And the Isaac Cook charm is not going to work on this man. You’d better have some good answers.’
‘Will he be listening?’
‘Probably not, but so far we’ve kept him out of our business. Let’s hope we can continue to, but you’re no nearer to solving these murders.’
‘We’ve charged two men with the murder of Rasta Joe.’
‘What does that matter? Davies won’t be interested in the murder of a criminal. He’ll want to know about Amelia Brice and the other woman. It’s their murders that are important, not some would-be Rastafarian who dealt in drugs and women. Men like him die all the time.’
‘Ten minutes. I’ll be ready,’ Isaac said. Goddard left the office.
Isaac walked over to where Bridget was seated. ‘Could you prepare a report on George Happold. I need to meet him.’
‘Give me two hours,’ Bridget said.
‘If I’m still standing by then.’
‘Tough day?’
‘We’re meeting with the commissioner.’
‘I’ll wish you the best of luck, sir.’
‘Thanks.’ Isaac left and went out of the office. Goddard was calling him from down the corridor.
***
Commissioner Alwyn Davies, a name that struck fear into many in the Met, especially DCS Goddard, was agreeable when Goddard and his DCI entered his office at Scotland Yard.
‘I thought we should meet to discuss Jeremy Brice’s radio programme,’ Davies said. It was Isaac’s first time in the office, but not for his DCS who had been there many times when Commissioner Shaw had been in charge.
Isaac and Goddard took seats on their side of Davies’s desk. The man was methodical, Isaac could see, in that the desktop was clear apart from a laptop, and a pile of documents to one side. It was not often that inspectors were called into the commissioner’s office for a discussion, and Davies’s welcoming speech when he took on the position – about an open-door policy, just knock on my door – had been rhetoric. The man’s usual manner was to be dismissive of anyone who could not help his career or could not show him the necessary deference.
Richard Goddard could, but Davies did not want it from him; Isaac could try, but he was not a natural, and on the occasion when Davies had entered Homicide in Challis Street, he’d had gone on the defensive, while Bridget had given the man tea.
‘DCI Cook’s met with Brice,’ Goddard said.
‘And what did he say?’ Davies looked over at Isaac.
A truthful answer would have been to say that it was part of a plot to oust the man asking the question and to send him back to where he had come from. That, Isaac knew, would not have been wise. ‘He said that it was a drive for ratings, the need to raise the heat on his target for the day,’ he said instead.
‘And we were it?’
‘According to Brice, we were.’
‘Chief Superintendent, if your people conduct their investigations as badly as they lie, then it explains why the murder rate in your part of London continues to rise.’
‘But…’ Goddard, unsure what to say, just mumbled.
‘Now look here, Cook. I’ve just about had enough of you and your department,’ Davies said. He was no longer sitting down but was standing up and leaning forward, his two hands firmly planted on his side of the desk. ‘I’ve had to intervene with you before, and your DCS is unable to see the wood for the trees. I brought in one of my people once before. I’ll do it again. And now I have this fool Brice making a fool of us, belittling the Met, and all because you can’t find out who killed his daughter. I am not going to let my position and those of my people be undermined by you two.’
‘Sir, this is grossly unfair,’ Goddard said in a moment of terror. He had hoped that the visit would at least be cordial and that the commissioner would recognise that there were acceptable standards of behaviour.
‘You’ve got a mouth. It took you long enough,’ Davies said. ‘You may have had your head up the rear end of Shaw, but it doesn’t wash with me. I want results, the same as Brice. I don’t need him sounding off against my team and me.’
‘That is not what Brice said when I met with him,’ Isaac said, attempting to deal with the situation. Goddard could only see an angry man trying a last-ditch attempt to rally support, to stack the Met with people who would help him to stay in his position.
‘Did you hear my interview with him?’ Davies said.
‘We did, sir,’ Goddard said.
‘And what did you think?’ The commissioner
