As they drove back to the station, it was by now ten o'clock in the morning. Langton remained so angry he was unapproachable. Although they had confirmarion of the route and destination of Fitzpatrick's plane, they knew it would be difficult to get him picked up, as they doubted he would stick to landing in Spain. They did, however, contact the Spanish authorities, with orders to arrest the pilot and retain the children. They had no confirmation that the plane had landed.
The incident room was full of the entire team. They were quiet, aware of the morning's debacle. Langton gave them a curt briefing about what had taken place. He said he was still hopeful they would get details of where Fitzpatrick was landing. He also said that it was a very wretched situation that no one had discovered that Fitzpatrick not only owned a
private plane, but was also a qualified pilot: in other words, the man had covered all possibilities, from the boat to the plane, for yet another escape. They would all look like incompetent, unprofessional idiots. Langton looked directly at Anna when he said it, and she flushed.
As the team prepared to continue packing up the case ready for the trials, Langton, with Phil, reinterviewed Damien Nolan. The latter was released from custody without any charges. Anna did not see him, as she was writing up the report from the airport.
Gordon tapped on her door, and peered in.
"We're not going to get much information from all this money," he said. "It may have come from Julia, but without Kushton, it's impossible to trace its source. The Fraud Squad have taken over investigating it, so it's out of our hands."
Anna made no reply. She nodded her head, eager for him to leave.
"Did you see him?"
She looked up.
"Fitzpatrick," Gordon prompted.
"For a brief second, yes."
"What was he like?"
"I don't know, Gordon. I never spoke to him."
He nodded and then grinned. saying, "I'd have liked to have seen him. He's something else, isn't he? I mean, I know there's a slew of dead bodies down to him, but at the same time you can't help admiring his bottle."
"Maybe, but I have no admiration for a man whose sole intent was releasing millions of pounds' worth of lethal drugs to live in luxury .. ."
"I know that, and I didn't mean I admired what he was doing, but you have to admit he was bloody audacious."
"Yes, Gordon, he was. Now, will you excuse me?" "Oh, right ...yes. I've really enjoyed working with you, Anna. I've learned a lot from you, and I hope we work on another case together. "She gave a brittle smile." Yes, Gordon. Thank you. He closed the door. She physically jumped with nerves when Langton walked into her office a few seconds later. He stared at her. "We could have stopped the plane," he said quietly.
"But the risk, and with two children on board ..."
"If he went to that much trouble to take them, he wouldn't have endangered their lives. It's another side to him, Travis; he wanted his kids, and he took them, and we had to bloody watch him go!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't know if you'd seen their faces at the window."
"Yes, I fucking saw them!" he snapped.
Anna didn't know what to say. She sat with her head bowed.
"I've warned you, Anna. You are already on report; now I'm going to really make you sit up and learn a lesson. I am going to have you back doing traffic."
"I never did traffic."
"Then it's about time you did! You are unprofessional and headstrong; you have to buckle down or give in your notice."
She wanted to cry, but she refused to allow herself to show even an indication to him of what she felt.
"You got anything to say?"
"No. I believe I acted with caution."
"You overrode my instructions and gave the driver orders to stop the patrol car. You have constantly disobeyed instructions and worked solo throughout this investigation. This is not something I am treating lightly—for the simple reason I believe you do have a future, and you are an exceptionally intuitive and clever officer—but policing is working with a team, and you need to understand that, because this is not the first time since I have worked with you that you have trodden a very dangerous line."
"Yes, sir."
"That's all." He stood looking at her for a brief moment, and then walked out. He didn't slam the door this time, but closed it softly.
She couldn't control herself. Her face puckered like a child's and she wept.
Anna would not be joining the team for a drink; she couldn't. Instead, she packed up her office and handed in her report. She felt that everyone knew she was in trouble, as they gave her furtive looks.
Phil obviously knew, as he put his arm around her shoulders. It made her feel worse. "Sorry if things look a bit bleak right now."
"Yes, well, somebody had to take the flak for all the screwups; I guess it's me."
"Come and have a drink."
"No, thank you. I'm not in that great a mood."
"Pete's coming."
She said nothing, wanting to get out as fast as possible.
As she got to her Mini, Pete was just parking his Morgan. He called over to her. "Hello, stranger! You coming for a wind-down drink?"
She shook her head, as she felt the tears welling up again. "Nope, I'm heading home. I've been up since four this morning."
He laughed and ruffled her hair. She always hated it when men did that and she turned her head away.
"Hey, come on, ease up. Have a drink, you'll feel better. Mind you, if I was in your shoes, I'd be wanting to tie a real load on."
"What do you mean by that?" she said angrily.
"Well, I hear you lost him—flew over your heads!" Again he laughed.
She wished she could also find some humor in the whole mess, but she couldn't. She turned back to open the car door.
"Anna." He moved close, putting his hand on her arm. "You know he'll get copped someday. They may even get him wherever he lands so, come on—have a drink and then you and I can go back to my place."
"No, Pete."
"Come on, I know how you must feel."
She looked into his friendly face, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "No, you don't. I think we should keep some space, maybe I'll call you sometime."
He stepped back, hurt. "Sometime? Well, that's a slap in the face. I've really tried with you, Anna, but forget sometime. I'm losing patience, so don't bother calling me at all."
He walked away. She knew she should have gone after him, but she
didn't have the energy. The truth was, she didn't want to take their relationship any further. It was over, probably before it had really begun.
Anna felt really low when she walked into her still-half-furnished flat. Her bed was as unmade as she had left it, and she sat on the edge, feeling depressed and scared. She knew Langton would go through with his threats, and she was unsure how she would be able to deal with it. She flopped back, closing her eyes. She wondered what her beloved father would think of it all, and that made her tearful again.
Then her old fighting spirit woke up, and she forced herself to get up, undress, and take a shower. If Langton threw the book at her, she'd throw it back—she had more secret weapons than anyone else. She would defend her decision at the airport, because it was a risk to have attempted to stop the plane; not just a risk but a very dangerous one. They could all have been killed; she felt that her decision was the correct one.
The more she thought about how she would approach the situation, the better she felt. If it came down to it, she would bring up what she knew about Langton. If anyone's career should be in jeopardy, then it was his. She was not going to take the flak for everyone else's fuckups, and there had been many in this case. In fact,
she
had instigated the connection from day one to Alexander Fitzpatrick. She began to feel more positive, knowing just how much of the case had been directed by her.
Showered, and wearing just a towel wrapped around her, she opened a bottle of wine. All the time her brain was working through exactly how she had joined the dots, how she had pieced the jigsaw together. She was not going down without a fight. She felt a whole lot better after two glasses; she also felt hungry, as she hadn't eaten all day. She really fancied a BLT but she had no bacon, no bread, no lettuce, and no mayo; just thinking of it made her mouth water. Then her phone rang.
She hesitated to answer it. If it was Langton she wasn't ready to talk to him, and if it was Pete she didn't want to speak to him. She let it ring.
It clicked onto her answer phone.
"Hello, Anna, this is Damien. I suppose you know I was released today and I was hoping I'd get to speak to you."
She sipped her wine, staring down at the answer machine.
"I was just wondering ... I didn't go back to the farm and ... well, as you are not home, there's no point—but I just would have liked to have seen you."
Anna knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't resist it. She picked up the phone. "I am at home and I would like to see you, and also want to know how you got my home number."
"Ah! Don't think of me as some crazed stalker, but an ex-student of mine lives in the same block of flats. James Fullford drives a very expensive car, lives in flat 2B, do you believe in coincidences?"
"Not really ..."
She loved the sound of his voice and the way he gave a soft laugh when she asked if he could stop by a grocery store, as she wanted him to make her a BLT. He said he could take her out to dinner, but she said that was what she really fancied. She had about an hour in which to wash her hair, make up her face, and get dressed. Damien Nolan was deeply involved in the investigation; he was also married to the woman who would be standing trial for assisting Alexander Fitzpatrick to store drugs, and who might even have helped his escape. But there had been something about Damien she had sensed from the first moment she had seen him. She was being both unethical and unprofessional, but it made her feel good.
Anna Travis was growing up. Whether or not she would learn from her mistakes, only time would tell. All she did know was, at long last, James Langton had no hold over her. On the contrary, they would, she knew, have to face each other out, and she intended to do that, but she also needed someone in her life. If it were to be Damien Nolan, she would take the risk; if it proved an unwise decision, then so be it.