‘I’ve never been impressed with him,’ Rik said. ‘He’s a little shit and could be lying to save his own backside. He only knows Sadiq and Rahman because they went to the same college as him.’
‘You really are a cynic,’ Henry said.
‘You mean you’re not?’ Rik exclaimed. ‘You must be going soft in your dotage.’
Henry grinned. ‘Whatever… that said, we now need to interview Sadiq down in London. I promise I won’t lose sight of the fact that Mark’s sperm was inside Natalie… but I know he wasn’t her killer.’
‘I think he’s clean,’ Donaldson said.
‘And I suspect everyone,’ Rik said.
‘You remind me so much of a younger me,’ Henry said.
‘Ugh!’
‘Where do we go from here, then?’ Donaldson said. ‘I only ask, because if you can get to interview Sadiq, I’d like to sneak in on the back of it, particularly after this little revelation.’
Henry pouted. ‘It’s unlikely they would allow you into Paddington Green even if they let me in, especially if they’ve already blocked you.’
‘Maybe we could get him back up here?’ Rik suggested. ‘That’s what we’d do normally.’
Henry pondered for a moment, then said brightly, ‘I know — let’s go and annoy the chief constable.’
For a brief second he took stock of himself and found he was unaccountably happy. He was having an interesting time at work, his personal life was also… interesting. Actually, both areas were quite fun and he thought he might just delete his ‘Intention to Retire’ report. And the prospect of winding up FB was also highly appealing.
Three quarters of an hour later Henry entered the office on the middle floor of the headquarters building at Hutton that housed the staff officers and admin team for the chief constable and the deputy chief constable. The room acted as a firewall and had to be negotiated like a level in a video game if one wanted to get in front of the chief or the dep. Their offices — inner sanctums — were accessed from here, a door at either side of the room; to the left, the chief, to the right, the dep.
The chief’s staff officer had changed recently. The role had been taken by a female chief inspector that Henry knew quite well, but from whom he did not expect any quarter. She glanced up from her computer as he breezed in and plonked himself down next to her on the chair positioned at the end of her desk.
‘Morning, Henry,’ she smiled.
‘Deb,’ Henry said, returning with one of his best lopsided boyish smiles, designed to soften the heart of any woman. At least that was what he hoped. ‘How are you? Settling into the job?’ She had only been in post a couple of months.
‘Fits like a glove.’
‘Pity about the boss?’ he said. She smiled.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Need to see him.’
She shook her head. ‘Zero chance.’
‘It’s very important.’
‘The dep might be free — in about three days.’
‘Has to be the chief.’
She leaned her chin on her hand and studied him. ‘Which bit of “no” don’t you understand? I can make an appointment, but it’ll be next week now.’
‘He is in, though?’ Henry jerked his head at FB’s thick office door.
‘All the divisional commanders are in with him, the finance director and the head of HR. Apparently the government has decided to cut our budget by twenty percent and they’re brainstorming how. Long, long session.’
‘I can feel the brain heat emanating from the room.’ Henry held out his hands, palms out, as if he was warming them on a coal fire. ‘All those dendrites zapping across their grey matter.’
The chief inspector laughed. ‘I can’t interrupt, Henry. I’m sorry. They’re hunkered down for the day, lunch and everything.’
Henry’s mouth curled thoughtfully. ‘Shove a piece of paper under his nose for me?’
Henry had abandoned Rik and Donaldson in the ground floor dining room. He walked back to them with a shrug and sat down.
‘He’s busy, but I’ve left a message.’
Henry had his back to the door, so he was facing out with a view of the headquarters social club, known colloquially as ‘The Grovellers’ Arms’. The eyes of the two men with him looked back past him as FB entered the room, waving a piece of paper in his hand with irritation.
‘Brief me. You’ve got five minutes, then I’m going back to that meeting where, I’m sure, my brain’s going to implode.’
FB took the spare seat at the table, big, rotund, mustachioed, like Buddha’s fifth cousin twice removed but much more wrinkly. He and Henry had known each other many years and their relationship was complex. FB had used Henry on many an occasion, mainly for his own ends, and there was no love lost between them. However, when things went to the wire FB had actually backed up Henry, which is what Henry was hoping for this time. But he wasn’t banking on it.
Henry explained everything succinctly, as instructed. FB hated superfluous detail. The chief looked suspiciously at Donaldson, then back to Henry.
‘You need to speak to the lad in custody because you have information linking him to a murder victim. Fair enough, and it should be possible to achieve. But why the Yank?’ He thumbed at Donaldson.
‘He could do with speaking to the lad, too,’ Henry said, making FB snort derisively.
‘But not about the murder of a girl in Lancashire?’ FB said.
‘No.’
‘I’d guess it would be about Jamil Akram,’ FB said. He looked at Donaldson again. ‘They’re freezing you out, aren’t they?’
Donaldson nodded. ‘I don’t think the security services have grasped the implications of Akram turning up on the scene. And now with Mark Carter’s identification, we have him clearly linked to Sadiq and Rahman, if he wasn’t before.’
FB snorted again. ‘Think you’re wrong there, pal. They know it all and that’s why they want to be the ones trying to squeeze every last drop of information out of that poor misguided youth.’
Donaldson’s face fell. It was something he had suspected, but having it confirmed by a third party was like being hit by a truck.
Then Henry said, ‘They want Akram for themselves.’
Donaldson’s body slumped.
‘Yep,’ FB sighed. ‘You’ll not get a look in.’
‘I know more about Akram than any of them,’ Donaldson whined weakly. ‘I’ve been after him for over ten years. Sadiq might know something extra that I can slot into the other pieces of my jigsaw. Something that will lead to his front door.’
‘They won’t let you talk to him. You might not get to him either,’ FB said to Henry.
Henry’s voice was indignant. ‘I have every right.’ He knew instantly he sounded like a probationer constable who only saw the world in black and white, right and wrong, not a grizzled old-timer who knew the world was as murky and grey as 1950s’ London smog. ‘Sorry,’ he said, as all eyes turned to him.
FB went into deep thought, eyes a squint. ‘How quickly can you get the DNA profiles done on the outstanding sperm samples?’ he asked Henry.
‘I managed to get Mark Carter’s fast-tracked through a personal contact. I doubt I can repeat that.’
‘Try,’ FB said. Then his attention turned to Donaldson. FB’s mind was also grinding hard on the subject. FB had been a career detective, rising up through the ranks in plain clothes, so he thought like one still. ‘It would be helpful if the DNA profile from the blood on the plane could be fast-tracked, too, don’t you think? I know…’ he said, before Donaldson had the chance to point out that this was completely out of his hands because the sample had actually been taken by a Merseyside CSI and had been submitted through that force’s channels. He leaned forwards. ‘Can I just give you my line of thinking? We need power to our elbows if we’re to have any chance of getting to
