“Independent journalists,” Hannah said, not looking at her. “I think they’re cultivating a look. Makes them more trustworthy, in the eyes of the public.”
“Well, no one ever accused the public of being smart.” Sarah looked them over again. The young man looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him off hand. Maybe he’d covered one of her speeches. The woman was older, and had a look that Sarah had previously associated with embedded war correspondents. Satisfied with what she saw, she dismissed them into the background. “We’ll do it inside. The drones won’t be able to come in, but the reporters will.”
Hannah hesitated, but only for a moment. “Are you certain you want to do it this way?” she asked, softly. “We could arrange a more regular press conference…”
“The best defence is a good offence,” Sarah said, smiling at the drones. “Albion wants a spectacle? Well, I’ll give them one. And I’ll keep doing it until Cass swallows his pride and gives me what I want – a tour of their facilities in Limehouse.”
“And after that?”
“It depends on what we find.” Sarah paused. “Anything more on our visitor, Holden?”
Hannah consulted her Optik. “Not much. He’s one of the lead techs for the Limehouse facility. Research and development, whatever that means.”
“I already knew that.” Sarah had done her own research on the Limehouse Basin drone facility. It had been pitched as an economic net gain for the borough, but so far the predicted funds hadn’t appeared. The facility was almost entirely automated, save for a skeleton staff. One of whom was Holden. “What I want to know is why he tried to plant a bug in my office.” She looked at Hannah. “Find that out, and I’ll give you a raise.”
“Working on it.”
Something in her voice made Sarah pause. After a moment, she said, “Are you certain you’re alright? I know these past two days have been… eventful. If you want to take the rest of the afternoon off…”
“No. I’m fine. Thank you.”
Sarah looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good.” She turned, smiling, so that a drone could get a shot of her standing beneath the station’s blue lamp. “Then let’s not beat about the bush. Faulkner will be here any minute.”
Inside, it was clear the station house had seen better days. Like much of Tower Hamlets, it was undergoing refurbishment and had been for several years. Clear plastic dust covers hung from abandoned scaffolding or stretched across doorways. Everything smelled of dust, bleach and damp. Sarah chose to make her stand near the front desk, where everyone would have a good view of the confrontation.
PC Moira Jenks was on hand to greet her, one of a handful of uniformed officers in the building. Sarah smiled. “I take it the Chief Inspector is out to lunch?”
“The Guv was unavoidably detained, ma’am,” Jenks said. “She sends her apologies.”
“And Detective Sergeant Miller?”
“Out sick,” Jenks said, briskly. “Stomach bug. Got most of the CID unit too. Strangest thing.”
Sarah noticed several of the nearby constables trading meaningful looks as Jenks spoke. She shook her head, disappointed, but not surprised. “Left you holding the bag, eh?”
“It’ll be a privilege, ma’am.”
Sarah laughed. “You say that now.” She paused. “I saw that you had a bit of confrontation with our friend Faulkner yourself. Are you sure you want to bring yourself to his attention again?”
“I doubt he’ll remember me,” Jenks said, with a shrug.
“I wouldn’t put money on it. Faulkner is quite the one for holding grudges.” Sarah took a breath, looked at Jenks consideringly, and said, “You know this is a publicity stunt, right? One way or another, he will leave here with that evidence. I have no way of stopping him. He can’t get at me, but if Albion’s contract is extended, it’s very likely you’ll be reporting to him in the future.”
Jenks paled slightly, but shook her head. “I doubt I’ll stay on if that happens, ma’am.” She looked at Sarah. “Is their contract really going to be extended?”
“Not if I can help it,” Sarah said, smoothly. Hannah gave her a sharp look, but thankfully kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t a lie, as such. Currently, she had no intention of letting Albion cement their foothold in the city. But things changed. As Darwin had discovered, adaption was the key to survival, and Sarah intended to survive whatever politics threw at her.
She looked at Jenks. “I don’t suppose I could get a cuppa while we wait?”
Jenks smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”
But before she could go anywhere, the sounded of booted feet tramping on lino reached their ears. “On second thought, cancel the cuppa,” Sarah said, putting on her best smile. “The guests of honour have arrived.”
Faulkner entered with all the bellicose militancy she’d come to expect. He slammed the doors wide, a smile on his face. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, but was ready for war otherwise. His men were similarly kitted out. As if they’d expected a fight – or were hoping for one. “Hello officers, we’re here to pick up some evidence,” Faulkner said, loudly. “I hope you have it ready for us…” He trailed off as he caught sight of Sarah and the coterie of reporters and police constables. “Ah.”
“Hello again,” Sarah said.
“And why are you here, minister?” Faulkner asked, bluntly. “I don’t see how this involves you at all.” He glanced at the reporters, but his expression didn’t change. He’d obviously expected there to be a few hanging about.
Sarah smiled with as much geniality as she could muster. “I am here to look after the best interests of my borough, Mr Faulkner.”
“Sergeant,” Faulkner corrected icily.
“Of course, forgive me. I have a hard time remembering such things. Sergeant Faulkner – I’m told there was a bit of a set-to yesterday. Care to explain?”
“To you? No. I answer to my superiors, not civilian authority.”
Sarah’s smile didn’t waver. “I suppose I’ll just have to ask Nigel Cass next time I see him.
