want to sit down and break bread with the American.
‘I’ll pass,’ Donaldson said. He saw the relief on FB’s chubby face.
Beckham noticed Donaldson’s troubled expression. ‘Is there something else?’
‘I’d like to speak to you.’
‘Mm, not now. In due course.’
‘Now.’
‘OK — go ahead,’ he relented easily.
‘In private.’
‘Oh, it’s not about this intelligence sharing business, is it?’ Beckham breathed with irritation.
‘More fundamental than that.’
‘What then? You can speak freely — there’s no one else here but us.’
‘OK, it’s about basic officer safety.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘This — this briefing,’ Donaldson said, his arms flying out in opposite directions, a gesture of exasperation.
‘What about it?’ Beckham said defensively.
‘You haven’t really told the officers everything, have you?’
FB shot a troubled look at Beckham, who said, ‘They know what they need to know.’
‘Oh?’ Behind Beckham the screen still showed the two faces of the men who were that morning’s targets. ‘Don’t you think a little more enlightenment would have been prudent?’
Beckham’s eyes hooded over as though he was drawing a veil of secrecy. ‘In what way?’
‘Maybe you shoulda filled in the blanks for these guys and gals who’re going out there this morning. One of the reasons I trailed up the motorway in the early hours was because I spent six hours yesterday afternoon digging-’
Beckham gave a short jerk of his right hand, an axe-chopping movement. ‘That’s enough, Mr Donaldson. Please do not interfere in operational matters that don’t concern you,’ he warned. ‘I invited you up here as a courtesy due to an oversight, so please remain an observer.’ He was clearly rattled.
FB picked up on it. ‘What do you mean?’ It was a question directed at both men.
Beckham took a step towards Donaldson, a steely glint in his eyes. The chief superintendent and FB exchanged worried looks. The other unknown man on the stage remained impassive.
‘I advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself,’ the Home Office man hissed threateningly.
Donaldson sneered, but he put up his hands in defeat. ‘OK, look, I can see this is a glory bust and I don’t have any problems with that. We all want to be hogs in shit and I’m not bitter about being left out of the loop. It happens,’ he said philosophically. Then he leaned into Beckham’s face. ‘But not at the expense of innocent men and women who have to do your dirty work for you.’
FB stepped in. ‘What does he mean, Martin?’
Beckham zoned-out Fanshaw-Bayley. ‘They are well protected. They are armed and they have body armour, and they know what they’re doing.’
‘That may be the case — up to a point. What they don’t know, what’s not been fully explained, is who they’re dealing with.’ He jabbed his forefinger at the mug shots on the screen.
‘What? Two low level extremists — no more than boys with possible delusions of greatness — who might possibly lead us on to real players.’
‘Don’t you mean two previously low level extremists who have just returned from training camps in Yemen? Who probably now have the ability to make sophisticated bombs and handle firearms, and who might just be brainwashed into believing that a whole bevy of belly dancing virgins awaits them on the other side? These guys could be suicide bombers — and you seem to have neglected to mention that fact.’
‘That is only your speculation.’
Donaldson laughed harshly and he and Beckham glared at each other.
‘There is nothing to support that view,’ Beckham said.
‘Maybe not, but if I was being asked to arrest them, I’d sure as hell like to know of the possibility, however distant.’
‘We don’t want to cause panic.’
Now Donaldson screwed up his face and shook his head.
FB made a snap decision. ‘Get everyone back in here,’ he said to the chief superintendent. ‘They need to know exactly what they’re up against.’ He gave Beckham a look of contempt.
‘B-but they’ve all gone out,’ the chief superintendent said.
‘Well fucking well get them back in again,’ FB said. He glared at Beckham. ‘And you think of something to say.’
The second briefing was much shorter. Beckham bluffed his way through it by saying that new information had just come to light literally in the last few minutes. Even then, he managed to gloss over the intelligence and basically reinforced the warning to any officers that might come face to face with either of the targets, whilst playing down the suicide bomber angle. Donaldson learned that Beckham was very much a man who understated everything.
They filed out a little more muted than previously. When the last one had gone, Beckham looked acidly across at Donaldson and said petulantly, ‘That better?’
Donaldson shrugged.
Beckham said, ‘Please refer to a previous conversation we had about your sources, incidentally. It’s something I shall be actively pursuing on my return to London. Obviously we have a leak that needs to be plugged.’
Bill Robbins, the firearms PC, re-entered the briefing room to gather some paperwork he’d left behind. Donaldson spotted him and had an idea, then trotted out behind Bill, not giving Beckham any response to the threat.
‘Bill — hi,’ Donaldson said, catching up with Robbins.
‘Karl, how’s it going?’ Bill was striding purposefully along the corridor.
‘I’m good. You?’
‘Well, back on firearms training, which is a step in the right direction,’ he answered, turning into the stairwell.
‘That’s great news — but we still have the inquests to come?’
‘Yes, but I’m not worried.’ He started down the concrete steps, Donaldson at his heels. ‘Henry’s been fantastic and the force has been OK-ish. I was justified in what I did, so I’m not losing sleep, other than worrying about my aim.’
‘You were superb actually — hey, what’s your role today?’
‘Do you mean on this half-baked operation?’ he said, still talking over his shoulder as both men descended the stairs. ‘Oops — hope I haven’t said anything out of place?’
‘Not as far as I’m concerned. You saw through it?’
‘Always a cynic where the security services are concerned. They’re crap and they never tell you the truth.’
‘Amen to that,’ Donaldson said, proud of his status as a law enforcement officer, which seemed so much higher a calling. ‘So what is your role?’
‘Just roving quality control, ensuring everyone knows their jobs, keeps on the plot. Welfare, that sort of thing.’ They had reached the lower ground floor on which the custody office and garages were situated.
‘Erm, any chance of tagging along with you today?’
‘Not a problem as far as I’m concerned.’
‘As I’m supposed to be here as an observer,’ Donaldson said, ‘I’ll ride shotgun.’
FOUR
