‘As this task force is very much in the public eye, it’s imperative that no information regarding these failures leak to the media.’ Ashton shot Singh a glance, underlining her point. ‘In the meantime, it has been requested that I step in and assume command over the task force to bring it to a successful conclusion.’
A few murmurs echoed through the room and Pearce watched as Singh pushed herself from the wall and marched to the door, leaving the room to a flurry of whispers. Shaking his head with disgust, Pearce opened the door at the back of the room and walked into the corridor, wanting to console his new-found friend. As he turned the corner, he collided with a sturdy man in an expensive suit.
Mark Harris.
Pearce raised a surprised eyebrow, his startled expression obviously causing the smarmy politician amusement judging by the well-practiced grin.
‘Adrian Pearce.’ He reached in double handed, grip and shake. The handshake of a champion. ‘Good to see you.’
‘Mr Harris.’ He looked over Harris’s shoulder at the emotionless Burrows stood a few feet back, his immaculate suit hugging his chubby frame. ‘Burrows.’
The executive assistant nodded. Harris stepped back into Pearce’s eye line, his white teeth displayed in a wide grin.
‘I take it you’re here for my speech,’ Harris said confidently.
‘Speech?’ Pearce shrugged.
‘To the task force. I called in a favour with Ruth, Assistant Commissioner to you.’ Harris spoke with an air of undeserved superiority. ‘Thought it would be good for morale and my campaign when I personally showed up to push us on to finally catch that bastard.’
‘Well it sounds riveting, but I have actual police work to do so if you’ll excuse me.’
‘Of course. Also, if you see DI Singh, please tell her this wasn’t a personal decision. We just felt it would be better for Ruth and me to take things from here.’
Pearce chuckled and took the extended hand from Harris. He squeezed it, catching Harris by surprise with the power of his grip and he stepped in close.
‘Typical. Let the real police do the work and then have Ruth cross the finish line from a yard away.’ Harris went to speak but Pearce squeezed again. ‘I’m sorry, I meant Assistant Commissioner.’
‘Quite,’ Harris barked, pulling back his hand and nervously running it through his well-combed hair. ‘Well, if you don’t mind, Pearce. Some of us have criminals to catch.’
Harris stepped away, heading towards the door to the meeting room just as Pearce heard AC Ashton make the announcement, a round of applause greeted Harris as he stepped into the room. Pearce stood, his brow furrowed and fists clenching.
‘Apologies, DI Pearce, but it’s imperative for Harris’s mayoral campaign that Sam Pope be brought in as soon as possible. An awful lot hinges on it.’
Burrows moved alongside Pearce, his hands behind his stiff back.
‘It’s imperative for his ego.’
‘We have a vested interest from many private companies and businesses, some of whom are reliant on Pope being stopped.’ Pearce raised an eyebrow as Burrows continued, ‘A vigilante in the city isn’t good for business.’
‘What business is that then?’
‘Their business. Our business.’ Burrows grinned, his smile lacking the panache of his bosses. ‘Certainly not yours. You see, Pearce, despite your clear abilities as a detective, your inability to see the bigger picture is what sets you apart from great men like Mark Harris.’
‘Is that so?’ Pearce asked dryly, rolling his eyes.
‘Yes. While you make decisions that have blacklisted you and, if you don’t mind me saying, sabotaged your own career, Mark strives for perfection. For greatness. Sam Pope is a slap in the face of his campaign, of the badge you wear, and the very basis of this entire legal system. Mark wishes to eradicate it and use it to push him to office where he will finally be able to change things.’
‘So he can feed his superiority complex?’ Pearce offered, agitated by the nerve of the condescending man before him.
‘No complex, Pearce.’ Burrows met his eyes, his stare as intense as his words. ‘It is transcendence.’
With that, Burrows turned and marched emphatically towards the open doors to the meeting room, leaving Pearce alone in the corridor. He could hear the eager voice of Mark Harris, rolling out his well-rehearsed speech like a modern-day Marc Antony. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned on his heel, willing himself to go and find Singh and ensure she was okay. If anyone knew what it was like to be side-lined, it was him.
But his mind had triggered. Something wasn’t right. As he slowly ambled down the corridor, the dots began to connect.
Something Burrows had said.
‘Shit,’ Pearce muttered, and two seconds later, was running as fast as he could back to his office.
As he flicked the indicator down and turned onto Aaron Hill’s road, Sam Pope took a sip of his coffee. The lukewarm caffeine sloshed down his throat and he willed himself awake.
It had been a long night.
After escaping through the gardens, he emerged through an alleyway two streets from the gated road that housed his friend. He felt bad for Etheridge, the impact of his shoot-out with the police would undoubtedly have repercussions for him. The unhappy marriage would surely hit breaking point, not to mention the devastating effect it could have on his business if it became public knowledge that Etheridge had aided and abetted a wanted fugitive.
Especially one that opened fire on the police.
But Etheridge was a good man. Sam knew that Etheridge was never a soldier at heart, he was a mastermind with the will to do good. Knowing he was helping Sam to rescue a teenage girl would be more than enough to balance the scales.
As he steered the stolen car past Aaron’s house, Sam scouted for a parking space on the cramped London road. The houses were all identical, all of them set back from the pavement, all of them thin and tall as if they’d been stretched to accommodate more.
It was still raining.
It had been that morning when he
