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“I’ll have the chicken curry, please. Rice, no chips,” Thurstan told the young woman serving behind the counter at the HQ canteen.
“Alright, Boss. I’m back,” Degsy sidled up to the DCI, dragging his tray along the counter. “Lasagne, please, and some broccoli as well.”
“Ahh, Derek!” Thurstan looked up after pushing several buttons for the delivery of his Café Latte. “How did the interview go?”
Degsy shrugged his shoulders and exhaled sharply. “Who knows?”
“That’s what I like, Derek. Positive attitude. Look, I’m just going to pay for this then I’m going to grab that table over by the window before someone else does. I’ll see you over there.”
Degsy waited for a new tray of lasagne to be brought from the kitchen. Thurstan wandered over to the table, glancing up at the lunchtime news: A Cabinet Minister’s resignation in order to spend more time with his family, a senior Judge’s unexpected early retirement and weather prospects that promised a warm and sunny start to the coming weekend.
Placing his plate and cup on the table, he slid the tray onto the window ledge.
“So, come on. What happened?” he asked as Degsy joined him.
“Not much, Boss. I just don’t feel confident. I mean I was ok in the interview. Felt good. I even thought I was doing well, but since coming out I just don’t know.” He took a swig of his bottled mineral water. “I mean, Chalkie spent a lot of time with me on the interview technique stuff and gave me some cracking examples of how to answer questions he felt certain were going to come up, and he was right. They did.”
“So what’s the problem, Derek?” Thurstan said between mouthfuls of curry.
Degsy stabbed at his broccoli and waved it absent-mindedly in front of his bemused face. “Well, basically, I left Derek Drayton outside and they interviewed Chalkie White. I only became Derek Drayton again when I closed the door behind me on the way out.”
Thurstan looked at him seriously. “And your issue with this is...?”
Degsy swallowed his food before answering. “Well, if I get promoted it won’t really be me they promoted. It’ll be Chalkie. I feel a bit of a fraud.”
Thurstan took another mouthful of curry and rice, chewed it thoughtfully, then put his fork down and took a sip of coffee. “It’ll always be you they promoted, Derek. Just a wiser and better prepared ‘you’ than the ‘you’ that would have gone in having not taken appropriate advice. I did the same thing. Went in as ‘me’, not properly prepared the first time. Learnt from it, took the advice I was offered, went in next time and passed.”
Degsy swallowed the lasagne he’d shovelled into his mouth and took another swig of water. “So, who did you go in as?”
Thurstan laughed and sipped his coffee. “Jerry Holden. You probably wouldn’t know him. Retired now. Great bloke.” He took another mouthful of curry. “It’ll be fine. They’d be stupid not to promote you, and anyway, Chalkie knows his stuff, so stop worrying. What’s done is done.” He scraped up a last mouthful and slid his plate to the side. “To change the subject, I have to take a couple of days off. Got gripped by the Superintendent earlier, said he’d authorised my carrying over some annual leave, but I had to start taking it now. So I’ll be taking Thursday and Friday off. It’ll give me a long weekend. I’ve got stuff to do at home on Thursday, after which I thought I’d have a couple of days away.”
Degsy finished off his broccoli with another slice of lasagne and pushed his plate away. “Going anywhere nice, Boss?”
“Oh, just a little place I’ve been to once or twice over the years. It’s nice and I can get a decent walk in as well. I’ll have the job’s phone with me.” He looked at the plates. “You done?”
Degsy nodded. They put their dinner things and trays on the trolley in the corner and wandered out of the canteen over to the HQ building.
“I need to bring you up to speed about this morning, Derek,” Thurstan said as they strolled along the walkway leading to the rear entrance into reception. “But first I’d like you to contact the Border Agency and check on our ‘friend’. Use whatever contacts you have there.”
“So you think our alley killer could be him, Boss?”
“I think it’s an extremely strong possibility, Derek. As we discussed this morning at the scene, there are significant similarities.”
“But three or four shots? Not his usual M.O.” They’d come to a mutual halt near to the doors. Degsy acknowledged two passing uniforms.
Thurstan lowered his voice. “Given a fleeing target, the distance and the lighting conditions, it was still a pretty decent bit of shooting and, given we now know from our witness that the killer was most probably knifed in the scuffle at the foot of the steps, well, it makes it even more commendable.”
“Or maybe his OCD kicked in, Boss.” He let out a little laugh.
“Maybe.” Thurstan smiled back. “Anyway, sort that out for me.”
“I’ll get on to it straight away,” Degsy nodded and held the door open.
They reached the lift and Thurstan patted Degsy’s back.
“Look, you go on up. I just want to get something from the newsagent down the road. I won’t be long. I’ll bring you up to date when I get back.”
Three-quarters of an hour later, Degsy found Thurstan sitting in his office reading a well-known satirical news and current affairs magazine.
“Sorry I took so long, Boss, I was waiting for the Border guys to call back and I had to catch up on a few things.”
Thurstan looked up. “Oh, no problem. What did they say?”
Degsy sat down. “He’s not come back into the country, at least not through his normal route. He could have flown into Dublin and then got an internal flight from Belfast or a ferry, I suppose.”
“Or he’s using false documentation,” The DCI said as he undid the top of a small mineral water and took a mouthful. “One way or another, I’m pretty certain he’s here.”
He paused, took another mouthful of water then, setting the bottle on his desk: “Anyway, did you see the news today? Cabinet minister? Prominent judge retiring?”
“Yeah, I’ve just seen it on the late lunchtime news. Why? Do you think they’re connected to our councillor?”
“More so now I’ve read this, Derek.” The DCI waved the magazine in the air, folded back some pages, leant over his desk and passed it to Degsy. “Left-hand column. You need to read between the lines.”
Degsy sat back reading the article.
“Interesting, Boss. I like this description: ‘a bastion of public service and child welfare whose sudden, unexpected but understandable demise from an uncommon but ‘natural’ cause’. I suppose you could describe the bullet in his head like that. Natural justice, at least, maybe?” He placed the article back on Thurstan’s desk.
“Exactly, Derek, and it seems to me Special Branch and the Security Service aren’t going to find this one as simple as they thought. This is, probably, not the last we’ll hear about this.” He leant forward, recovered the magazine and slid it in his top drawer. “I think we may get another visit from them. Bully boy tactics, hot air and bluster, you know the score. They’ll probably suspect we’re a source for the article. Now, I know we’re on solid ground as far as the councillor’s concerned, but I don’t want them inadvertently finding anything out about Nickson and then interfering with the MacMahon job. It could leech into what we have on Tommy Cole. Despite our general opinion of him, I think he’s astute enough to sell himself to them as a drugs source and I don’t want any deals being done, not when we’ve got him by the balls.”
“I think we’re ok there, Boss. There’s nothing on the Niche system to connect Nickson and I hid the intel checks amongst a list of others, all relevant to the investigation: suspects, hotel guests, that sort of thing. It should be ok.”
Thurstan rubbed his chin. “What about the Border Agency?”
“Same again, Boss. They could’ve automatically notified us of his departures and arrivals, but it would have meant putting a marker on their system so I declined. He’s just one of many now. Apparently, they’re doing crap loads of these checks every day. Someone would have to be looking specifically for him before the line of inquiry became apparent.”
“Good.” Thurstan sat back and relaxed. “Speaking of Tommy Cole, are you available all next week?”
“Yep, I’m on ‘Days’, Boss.” He was intrigued.
“Right, sit here and read this whilst I go and have a chat with Chalkie.” He handed Degsy a large file from the bottom of his tray. “Don’t take it out of the room. Up to this point, there’s only me, Chalkie and Arthur know what’s in it, but I think it’s time we spoke to Mr Cole about what he was doing on Oglet Lane two years ago.”