Stalkers

down on Victoria Street. The hot drink had a soothing effect. Gemma had been right about one thing — at present he was running on empty, but even so, being forced to take a holiday for three months was the last thing he’d wanted. If anyone asked why, he’d tell them that this was because he was a workaholic, but in his more honest, introspective moments he’d admit that it probably owed more to there being nothing else going on in his life. There was no question that Heck loved the job. Catching criminals, putting them away, slamming cell doors on those who brought terror and misery to the lives of the innocent gave him a buzz that he didn’t get anywhere else.

But on this occasion — on this one occasion — being ordered to stay away from the office for a few months might well be to his advantage.

Before he could ponder the situation further, someone else came into the room. He turned, and saw that it was Commander Laycock.

‘Heck,’ Laycock said with a grin. ‘Glad I caught you.’ He sauntered over.

Laycock’s looks belied his age, which was somewhere in the early-to-mid forties. He was a big, burly bloke, tall and broad at the shoulder, yet trim at the waist. Even now he wore the shorts and sweat-dampened vest that he’d no doubt been working out in down in the gym. A towel was looped around the back of his bull-neck. At first glance he had the look of the archetypical man’s man: he was fair-haired, square-jawed, handsome, and yet he had a rugged edge. You’d imagine he could easily go round for round with the lads — and this wasn’t an inaccurate impression. He nearly always adopted a ‘hail fellow, well met’ approach when dealing with ‘his troops’, as he liked to call them, an attitude he’d inherited from his early days in the Royal Military Police.

Heck wasn’t fooled by any of it.

‘I just wanted to congratulate you on the time and effort you put in on the missing women case,’ Laycock said.

Heck nodded. ‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘You understand why I had it wound up?’

‘I’ve got a pretty good idea.’

‘Your last CCA wasn’t totally convincing, I’m afraid. Not considering the amount we’ve been spending on this.’

‘It’s alright, Sir. It’s all been explained to me.’

‘Okay. You don’t seem very happy about it, though?’

Heck feigned surprise. ‘What, I’m supposed to be happy as well? Sorry, I didn’t get the written order for that.’

Laycock’s smile faded. ‘There’s no being nice to you, is there?’

‘I don’t see any point in pretending we’re friends, that’s all.’

‘Blunt as ever, I see. Okay, well let’s cut to the chase. One of the problems of being a detective and having cases to investigate is that, now and then, you’re expected to close a few — not widen them and widen them until every bloody person in the service is at your beck and call.’

‘And why would that be, Sir?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Perhaps you can explain it to me,’ Heck said. ‘Why do we — sorry, why do you — prefer cases we can close quickly and easily to cases that require a load of work?’

Laycock’s eyes were now hard; his lips had tightened. ‘You’re going on leave, I understand. I suggest you go now, before you get on my wrong side.’

‘You’re not going to answer the question? Would that be because, as far as you’re concerned, the National Crime Group’s an ego-trip?’

‘I’m warning you, Heckenburg …’

‘Gold-plated job for a Bramshill brat-packer like you, isn’t it? Very high profile, lots of TV interviews, regular briefings with whichever Home Secretary happens to be in power this week.’

Laycock looked as though he was about to explode, but his anger quickly abated and he smiled again. ‘You know, I always had misgivings about having you in my outfit, Heck. And now I can see they were well-placed. You’re a chancer, an adventurer — and that doesn’t work in the modern police.’

‘I’d have been delighted to be a team-player, if you’d actually given me a team.’

Laycock chuckled. ‘Forget about a team. You should be more concerned now about whether you actually fit into this department. You know they’ve started calling the National Crime Group “the British FBI”. And that’s something I’m encouraging. It makes us sound like the slick, smart, modern organisation I want us to be. Oddballs won’t have any place in it.’

‘So who’ll be running it when you leave?’

‘Insubordinates won’t either.’

‘Ahh … you’re saying you’re kicking me out?’

‘I’m saying you’re not the sort of police officer I necessarily want working under me.’

‘I’d never have guessed.’ At last Heck allowed himself to show some emotion. ‘From the very first day of that missing women enquiry, I didn’t get one word of support from you, Sir. Not one.’

‘I wasn’t convinced by the evidence.’

‘What would you know about evidence? You’re not a copper, you’re a politician.’

Laycock’s lips tightened again. Consummate actor though he was, Heck always managed to bring out the beast in him. ‘You’re lucky no one else is present to hear this, sergeant.’

‘If anyone else was present, I wouldn’t be saying it.’

‘I can still break you, Heckenburg.’

‘Yeah, you’re apparently an expert.’ Heck knew he was going too far now, but suddenly all the frustration and annoyance of the last few months was pouring out. ‘They tell me that when you were a uniformed inspector at Ladbroke Grove, after refusing to spare anyone to clear the yobs away from the war memorial, where they’d been drinking all day, you personally supervised the arrest and conviction of an old lady who’d hit one of them with her brolly.’

‘If you’ve got a job to come back to in December, I’ll be extraordinarily surprised.’

‘It’s a pity you can’t divert some of that belligerence into standing up to the Home Office and demanding more money for our major enquiries,’ Heck retorted. ‘Or how about standing up to the CPS when they say we can’t proceed with a prosecution because there’s only a small chance of success?’

‘You really think you’re fireproof just because you used to shag your super?’

That comment caught Heck on the hop. He’d thought that only Des Palliser was aware he’d once had a romance with Gemma Piper; it was ancient history after all, when they were both young, newly made detectives.

Laycock chuckled again. ‘Oh yes. You’d be amazed at some of the things I know. You see, that’s the difference between you and me, Heckenburg. You’re just a foot-soldier, a grunt. And I’m a five-star general. I’m running the whole show. It’s my job to know everything. But by all means, if you really fancy it, try and take me on. I’d relish the contest, though it wouldn’t last for long.’

Realising that he was on dodgier ground than he’d first thought, Heck said nothing. He grabbed his jacket from a chair and pulled it on.

‘All my service I’ve been meeting coppers like you,’ Laycock added, leaning so close that Heck could smell his sweat. ‘Surly, resentful, jealous of those who’ve earned promotion, embittered that they have to take orders from people they consider themselves superior to. Determined that anyone who doesn’t operate at their mediocre level is to be sneered at. Well I’m not going to stand for it in NCG anymore. We’re an elite outfit. There’ll be no dissent in these ranks. And if you think you’re going to be the exception to that rule because you’re protected, you — and your protectress, I might add — could both be in for a big shock. Now get out of my sight.’

As Heck left, he realised that he should have gone earlier, before he’d let his mouth run away with him. It was just that, with three months of leave looming, he might not have got another chance to have a pop at the person most responsible for wrecking his case.

Not that some of the things said in retaliation hadn’t stung him. To start with, his attitude to Laycock had nothing to do with Gemma Piper providing him cover. In truth, he’d never even considered her that way — until