“Sergeant Faulkner,” Hannah said, with forced mildness. Underneath, her heart was pounding. Why was he here? What did he know? She tried to think – could Krish have given her up? She didn’t want to think so, but there was no telling what Albion had done to him.
Faulkner set the coffee back on the counter and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Outside. For a quick chat.”
“I don’t think we have anything to say to each other, do we?”
Faulkner’s smile faded. “It wasn’t a request.” He gestured and she felt hands grip her upper arms tightly. Two Albion operatives in full tac-gear stood to either side of her. She looked at them and then at Faulkner.
“Oh,” she said, in a small voice.
Sarah was in her office, talking to Moira Jenks, when an alert interrupted her. She held up a finger, silencing Jenks, and answered the alert. A message from Winston, just three words: You owe me. She sat upright and clicked the attached file. It wasn’t much, but what was there painted a picture. Sarah had always had a talent for putting together puzzles and what Winston had found was possibly the last piece of this particular one.
“What is it?” Jenks asked, playing with her Optik.
“The answer to a question.” She thumped her fist on her desk and laughed, low and loud. Winston had worked more quickly than she’d dared hope – then, he’d had the photo for help. “One that’s been bothering me for some time.”
Jenks suddenly sat up. “Bloody hell,” she said. “They just hit DedSec!”
Sarah looked at her, the words not quite registering. “What? Who?”
“Albion! That shit, Faulkner – he just led a full-on raid, in Limehouse. They’ve arrested like fifteen people…”
“They can’t do that,” Sarah protested. “Albion doesn’t have permission…”
“They’re bloody acting like they do.” Jenks sounded stunned. “And that’s not the only one – I’m getting alerts from CID… there are more raids scheduled for today, right now. The Guv wants every uniform to report in, something about providing a police presence…”
Sarah snorted. “More like the Met got shut out, and he wants to pretend he’s in on the operation before someone starts asking awkward questions.” She sat back, frowning. If Albion had received permission for such an operation, that meant things were moving faster than she’d anticipated. “This moves up the timetable somewhat.” She looked at Jenks. “What are you going to do?”
Jenks shrugged. “I can read the writing on the wall as well as you, ma’am.” She scratched at the scab on her cheek. “The Met’s not in charge anymore. It might not be official yet, but it will be. And I don’t fancy serving under an arse-wipe like Faulkner.”
“If anyone asks, we’ll say you’re still assigned to protection duty,” Sarah said, with a chuckle. But there was no real mirth in the sound. It wasn’t a laughing matter. She switched through her display, looking through the newsfeeds until she found coverage of the Limehouse raid. A smiling Nigel Cass was being interviewed by a GBB reporter.
“Smug creep,” Sarah muttered. She switched feeds, looking for something less offensive.
Albion was conducting a multi-media blitzkrieg – bombarding the airwaves with propaganda, even as GBB showed footage of their successful raids. Sarah shut off her feed with a disgusted sigh and ran her hands over her head. “This doesn’t change anything,” she said after a few moments. “It just makes the climb a bit steeper.”
Jenks frowned. “Not giving up then?”
“No. But I might need to re-evaluate my current strategy.” Sarah rose. “We’ll need to move quickly. Get ahead of all this somehow.” She checked the time. “Hannah should have been back by now.”
“My fault, I’m afraid, ladies.” Faulkner stood in the doorway of her office, a smug smile on his face. “Surprised to see me, Ms Lincoln?”
“Not as such, Mr Faulkner.” Sarah turned, putting a smile on her face. “Might I ask what you’ve done with my assistant?”
“She’s in the corridor, with one of my men.”
“Why?”
“She’s a person of interest in an ongoing investigation – and before you say it, yes, our current remit allows for this particular investigation, as it’s related to an active terror threat.”
“DedSec,” Sarah said.
Faulkner tapped the side of his nose. “Got it in one. I knew you were clever.” He glanced at Jenks. “You’re out of uniform, constable.” Jenks made an obscene gesture in reply and he grinned. Faulkner’s gaze switched back to Sarah. “We suspect your assistant has some ties to known subversive organisation DedSec.”
Sarah paused. “And why do you suspect that?”
“Need to know,” he said, clearly relishing the words. And suddenly, she knew he was lying through his teeth, without a shadow of a doubt. This was an act of spite, nothing more. But the end result was the same. Hannah would vanish into the labyrinthine bowels of Albion’s organisation, like the others she’d heard rumours of. She couldn’t allow that.
Yet, she hesitated. What she had was valuable. More valuable, perhaps, than Hannah. The sort of cudgel that could possibly be used to beat Albion senseless – if she didn’t waste it. Even as the thought occurred to her, she felt a flush of shame – and the flicker of an idea.
Decision made, she cleared her throat. “I know who he is, you know.”
Faulkner paused, a quizzical look on his face.
“I know who he is,” Sarah repeated.
“Who?”
“The one Holden sold the drone to.”
Faulkner tensed. “I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, but–”
Sarah overrode him. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Holden sold something – a weapon – to someone else. Someone who decided to use that weapon to kill others. If that were to become common knowledge, well… our Mr Cass might have a bit more difficulty getting his foot in the door, mightn’t he?”
Faulkner stared at her. “You don’t know anything.”
“I started
