The Loyal Servant (25 page)

34

A points failure at London Bridge had delayed all the trains coming into Charing Cross from southeast London and Kent. It was 8:55am by the time Caroline jumped off the number 11 bus.

She flew up Great Smith Street and ran past reception relieved to see Ed Wallis wasn’t manning the desk.

Flushed and breathless, she finally reached her own desk in time to see Jeremy Prior storm out of his room, a mobile phone clamped to his ear. She watched as he marched the length of the office, shouting a stream of obscenities into the phone as he went, finally disappearing through the fire exit door at the other end.

Caroline was certain it was too early for the first edition of the
Evening News
to have hit the streets. Nevertheless, she found herself grabbing the bright pink pay-as-you-go mobile from her bag and hitting the speed dial button.

‘Is it out yet?’ Caroline whispered, holding a hand over her mouth.

‘God no! First edition leaves the depot around 11,’ Tate said. ‘I haven’t even seen it yet. Is something wrong?’

Caroline thought she could detect an edge of nervousness in Tate’s voice.

‘My boss knows.’

‘What has he said to you?’

‘Nothing – he doesn’t need to – I’ve seen the thunderous look on his face.’

‘He doesn’t know. No one knows. It’s not even on the website yet – we’ve gone for shock value – hitting all our channels at once.’

‘He knows.’

‘That’s impossible. He’d have to be so well connected…’

The fire door burst open and Jeremy Prior marched back into the office, his face twisted in a scowl.

‘I’ve got to go.’ Caroline slipped the phone into her pocket and busied herself switching on her computer and monitor. She kept her head down, finally glancing up to see Prior hurry into his room and slam the door behind him.

That morning, while Caroline had sat on the train for almost an hour in the no man’s land between New Cross and London Bridge, she had decided the only sensible tactic she could adopt was one of absolute denial. If she vowed that she didn’t know anything and swore she hadn’t done anything, what was the worst that could happen? That thought had sent an involuntary shiver across her shoulders, and she resolved to banish the possible outcomes from her mind.

But that was easier said than done.

She turned back to her computer, hoping her access issues had miraculously remedied themselves overnight.

The door at the other end of the office opened again and Ed Wallis appeared. He limped slowly towards her, looking straight ahead. When he drew level with her desk, his mouth twitched but still he didn’t make eye contact. Eventually he got to Prior’s door and knocked on the glass. As he waited he glanced over a fleshy shoulder and locked eyes with Caroline for a moment. Then he smiled. Caroline’s breath got trapped somewhere inside her throat as she watched him open the door and hobble inside.

She held on tight to the arms of her chair, resisting an overwhelming urge to flee, reminding herself it was Ed’s word against hers. Whatever story he spun Prior she would counter it. So what if she was in the department outside normal office hours? That wasn’t a crime. It wasn’t even out of the ordinary.

She saw Prior offer Ed a seat. Ed waved it away, instead opting to lean his weight against the back of a chair. He seemed to be talking non-stop and, amazingly, given his earlier outburst, Prior seemed to be listening. Considering. Occasionally nodding.

Caroline swallowed, trying to force back down the rising queasiness in her throat. If Ed accused her of taking something from Tracy’s box she would just remain calm and deny it. Maybe throw in a bit of indignation that the finger was even being pointed in her direction. She attempted a deep breath, but her throat felt constricted. Her heart was pumping too fast. She could see dark spots before her eyes and her head started to buzz. She pressed her fingernails into her palms and concentrated on the pain. The buzzing subsided after a few moments and a few moments after that the spots melted away.
Just. Stay. Calm.

Ten minutes of seemingly convivial conversation later, Ed re-emerged from Prior’s office. He didn’t bother to shut the door. Caroline had expected a self-satisfied grin, but his face was blank. He slipped out of the main exit without saying a word.

What was going on? It wasn’t Ed’s style to miss an opportunity to gloat. She glanced back at Prior’s room and saw Pam lumbering through the door.

Caroline sat at her desk feeling helpless, as if she was waiting to be escorted to the executioner. She couldn’t just sit and do nothing. She jumped up and hurried into the lobby to discover Ed was still waiting for the lift to arrive. It wasn’t until she was standing shoulder to shoulder with him that he acknowledged her presence.

‘Nice little chat was it?’ she said.

‘Private little chat. Man to man.’ He ducked sideways, shuffling away from her.

‘Are you in the habit of having cosy, manly chats with the head of the academies division, then?’

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

The lift arrived. Ed limped inside, Caroline just behind him.

‘Actually, I was thinking of having a nice little natter with your boss.’ She stared into his sweating face. ‘You know, woman to woman. Perhaps we could talk about you. What do you think Ed? Do you think I might need to? Just to even things up a bit?’

The lift doors pinged open onto the first floor lobby, but no one got in or out. Ed repeatedly jabbed a fat finger against the ground floor button.

‘Always seem to go slow when you’re in a hurry, don’t they?’ She smiled at him and he seemed to shrink away. ‘How’s the er… groin injury?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Really?
What was he playing at? If he had a mind to he could probably have her arrested for actual bodily harm.

The doors finally opened onto the ground floor and Ed limped out. Caroline decided to stay inside.

‘I just told him everything I saw,’ he said, as the lift doors started to close. ‘Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing for you to worry about, if you weren’t doing anything wro—’

The doors shut and cut off the end of his sentence. Caroline leaned back against the cool mirrored wall and inhaled deeply. What had Ed seen? She pressed ‘4’, and headed back up to the hangman’s rope.

When she got back to her desk she found Pam sitting on it studying her nails.

‘What was that all about?’ Caroline pointed to Prior’s office. ‘Why did he want to see you?’

Pam hesitated for a moment, just long enough to worry Caroline. ‘Oh gosh, nothing,’ she said. ‘He’s just in one of his moods. He wanted to kick the cat and I was the closest thing.’ Pam smiled, then turned and walked away.

The air felt prickly with static, full of all the stuff that wasn’t being said. Caroline sank onto her chair, fearing that as the day progressed things would only get worse.

35

The first thing Angela did when she got back to the office was take off her shoes. She closed her eyes and imagined submerging her feet in a bowl of warm soapy water.

‘Sleeping on the job, now, is it?’ Frank Carter nudged her as he walked past. ‘You do know Evans-the-Editor is after your blood, don’t you?’

‘I’ve only just got in.’

‘Well if you want to avoid a bollocking, you should go right back out again.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘He wouldn’t say.’ Frank scratched a scabby patch of stubble on his chin. ‘Where’ve you been, anyway? You look like shit.’

‘Gee thanks, Frank.’

She opened the top drawer of Jason Morris’s console and pulled out a mirror and peered into it. ‘Christ, you weren’t exaggerating.’ She tidied line of the lipstick on her bottom lip with a little finger. ‘I’ve just spent the best part of two hours doorstepping drug clinics, flashing Freddie Larson’s mugshot at any addict who looked compos mentis enough to recognise themselves in a mirror.’

‘Any luck?’

‘Maybe.’ A bloke outside a clinic in the City told me he knew him. It’s just possible he was telling the truth. But there wasn’t much life left in his eyes to judge one way or the other.’ She sighed. ‘Mind you – he was still alert enough to prise 30 quid out of me.’

‘I’d have given him good money to see that.’

‘Shut up, Frank.’

‘So, have you got an address for Freddie?’

She shook her head.’

‘A number?’

‘No.’

‘That bloke must have seen you coming. What did you get in return for your hard-earned?’

‘Freddie’s due in at the clinic tomorrow lunchtime. All I can do is go back there and wait for him.’

‘Is that it?’

‘It’s the first positive ID I’ve had. I’ve got no choice but to follow it up.’

‘Do you want me to come with – as back up?’

She looked Frank up and down. ‘What – you’ll protect me if he turns nasty?’

Frank shrugged. ‘Something like that.’

‘Please yourself.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

Angela opened the drawer again and attempted to slide the mirror back in. Somehow it was now too big for the space. She yanked hard on the drawer below. It slid out four inches like it always did, then refused to budge a fraction more. Not in the mood to be defeated by a piece of office furniture, Angela braced her knees against the front of the console and grabbed the handle of the offending drawer with both hands. She pulled as hard as she could. The drawer shifted another half inch then stopped. She jiggled it from side to side and up and down. She pushed it in and out as fast as she could to loosen whatever was stopping it. Then she tugged again and was rewarded with another two inches of progress.

‘Jesus, Ange. Are you still wrestling with that bloody thing?’ He shook his head. ‘That’s called Karma that is. If you will jump into a dead man’s drawers you’ve got to expect consequences.’

‘Cheers, Frank – you should have been a sodding prophet. Missed your vocation there.’ She grabbed the top drawer again and tried lifting it outwards and upwards. It slipped out almost effortlessly.

‘Shame you didn’t try that before,’ Frank said.

Angela laid the drawer on the desk and peered into the console. Towards the back she spotted a bright yellow strip protruding from the runner. She reached in and pulled out a cyclist’s ankle strap, Velcro tabs at both ends. She threw it onto the desk.

‘Is the other one lurking in there somewhere?’

‘Doesn’t look like it.’ She tested the second drawer. It slid in and out as if the runners had been greased with butter.

Frank picked up the fluorescent strip and tossed it into the bin. ‘I thought young Jason kept all his cycling gear downstairs.’

Angela closed the drawer. ‘Downstairs?’

‘In the basement.’

‘The basement?’

‘You know, the floor beneath ground level – showers, changing rooms, lockers… gym, bike park.’

‘They’ve got all that in the basement?’

‘Where did you think people left their bikes?’

‘Why would I ever trouble myself thinking about that?’

She opened the drawer again and began to decant some of the contents of the top drawer into the newly functioning middle one, fully expecting the amount of crap to double overnight. When she’d evened out the load she slotted the half-empty top drawer back into the console. As she was closing it she spotted the useless little key she’d pulled off the key ring. She plucked it out of the drawer and carefully inspected it front and back. The number 64 was stamped into the metal on one side.

‘Jason’s cycling stuff… you say he kept it in the basement?’

Frank nodded.

‘Was it ever cleared out?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘In a locker, was it?’

‘Yes Ange – you must have seen the sort of thing – rows of slim metal cupboards, very narrow doors.’

‘Do you know which one?’

‘How would I?’

‘Does the lift go all the way to the basement?’

Her landline started to ring. She snatched the receiver and hollered ‘Tate’ into the mouthpiece.

‘My God, Angela. Is that how you always answer your office phone?’

‘Dennis?’

‘We’ve got more manners here in the provinces.’

And no reason to get out of bed in the mornings.

‘Actually, I’m in the middle of something right now.’ She glanced down at the small key resting on her palm. ‘Can it wait?’

‘Depends if you want to wait for that list of students arrested at the demo.’

‘You’re bloody quick.’

‘I like to keep on my toes. I’ve got that joint story credit to earn.’

‘How many arrests were there?’

‘Twenty-three. I’ll email you the list.’

The line went quiet. Angela waited for a moment then broke the silence, just as she supposed Watson had wanted her to.

‘I sense you have something else to tell me. I can feel the tension leaking out of the phone. Cough it up, Dennis, don’t leave me in suspense.’

‘I take it you’re already sitting down.’

Angela closed her eyes and waited. There was no harm in letting Watson enjoy his moment. But he could whistle for a joint byline.

‘Remember I got you this, all right?’ he said.

‘Dennis – what do you want me to do – dedicate my first novel to you?’

‘We have an agreement. A joint byline is the least you can do. You’ll be good to your word?’

‘Haven’t I always been? Now whatever you tell me is going to seem like such an anti-climax.’

‘Guess who arrested Freddie Larson in 1979? Go on.’

‘I don’t know… Inspector Morse?’

‘It’s Cambridge, not bloody Oxford. Guess again. Think big.’

‘Why are you making me do this? I don’t know… Sir Ian Blair?’

‘Warm. Care to have a another stab at it?’

‘Warm? Please Dennis – just put me out of my misery.’

‘OK, OK.’ Watson cleared his throat. ‘The arresting officer was none other than Deputy Assistant Commissioner—’

‘Barry Flowers.’

‘You guessed! How the fuck—’

‘Woman’s intuition.’

‘If I said that you’d have my bollocks on a plate.’

‘Too damn right.’

‘Well here’s something you don’t know.’ He paused again for effect. ‘Sir Barry, formerly known as PC Flowers, was transferred from the Cambridgeshire force less than a month after he arrested young Master Larson.’