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Wednesday 4th June 2014
Thurstan wondered why the large oak desk somehow looked even larger now than the last time he’d seen it. The silence was broken by the Chief.
“Right. I think we’re both certain there’s absolutely nothing to be gained by alarming the Public with news or even hints of some sort of organised retribution organisation. It’s going to cause all sorts of problems. You know what they’re like. Any old excuse to plunder the nearest electrical store and set fire to all and sundry, not to mention nutter copycats crawling out of the woodwork.” He rubbed his forehead then waved his open hand towards the DCI continuing with a hint of exasperation. “Similarly, no one will thank us if it’s actually ‘official’? Look what happened to the last chap who let the ‘cat out of the bag’, the Deputy Chief from Manchester.” He let out a sigh. “No! Might as well go downstairs to the Firearms Range and shoot ourselves in the foot right now.” He took a sip of iced water from the tumbler on his desk.
“I’ve asked the CPS and Courts to expedite the trials regarding the Masterson murder and Tommy Cole. Strike whilst the iron’s hot, so to speak. Get it in and out of the papers quickly; leaves the MacMahon job to fade away gracefully. We’ve already blamed organised crime and hinted at international involvement so I think interest will wane given time. That only leaves MacMahon’s wife to make a fuss but she’s unlikely to pressurise us in respect of where our enquiries are going. From what I’ve been told, she firmly believes it was Tommy Cole that saw him off.”
Thurstan interjected: “I think our saying it was organised crime with international connections, which ... sort of fits Tommy Cole to a tee, might have fuelled the fire a bit there, Sir.”
The Chief stared at him questioningly.
“Oh, I see what you mean. Quite possibly. Never mind. I think it’s highly unlikely he’ll be serving his time here so if she pays some other inmate to see him off it won’t be our problem. Maybe when she finds out Masterson was his mistress she’ll lose interest altogether,” the Chief added thoughtfully then looked at Thurstan, who felt the time was right to give a little nod and a smile.
“The Councillor’s murder? Well, totally out of our hands now and the ‘one that never happened’.”
He looked at Thurstan: “Coffee?” Thurstan nodded. He pressed the intercom. “Mrs Byrne, two coffees, please, and a small plate of biscuits.”
He went ‘walkabout’. “This chap, McGee, the St.Helens serial killer. To be honest, I’ve had some things altered. We’ve reversed the injuries so it sounds like he was shot from the front. The official line is ‘commits an attempted rape and bravely fought off, then tries a knifepoint robbery and simply picked the wrong person. Of course, we’ll tell the Press our enquiries indicate this just happened to be a member of Liverpool’s ‘gun toting’ organised crime who’s now left the country. Enquiries continue, no stone unturned. That sort of thing. They’ll suck it up.
“And in case you’re wondering, I’ve spoken personally with the Pathologist, old friend of mine, and the victim. It’s sorted. Should they be asked any awkward questions they’ll refer it all back to us. At the end of the day, if we get caught out by the Press, we explain it away by saying enquiries were of such a sensitive and protracted nature that a cover plan was needed so as to not alert the people we were seeking. Long term we’ll have to play it by ear.”
The Chief appeared to have a knack for this sort of thing, although Thurstan wasn’t very keen on his using the word ‘we’.
There was a subtle tapping low on the door. “Get that, will you, Thurstan? You’re nearest.” Mrs Byrne entered with a tray and her dazzling smile.
“Thank you, Mrs Byrne,” the Chief said, giving her a big smile. She dazzled them both again, closing the door behind her. Thurstan couldn’t help noticing she had a curious but attractive sort of flick of her hips going on as she walked.
“Help yourself to milk and sugar,” the Chief said, handing Thurstan his coffee, “and don’t forget to have a biscuit.”
The DCI poured some milk, slid a sugar cube beneath the darkly marbled surface and stirred. Leaning forward, he helped himself to a custard cream. He decided not to ‘dunk’ as he didn’t know exactly what the Chief’s policy was with regard to dunking. His strategy today was ‘play it safe’.
The Chief Constable sipped from his cup as he stared out of the window.
“Now, your man in Yewtree Road.” He smiled benignly at Thurstan. “Information from the ‘underworld’, I think. Disgruntled, former prison inmate. Suspicions of some sort of fallout regarding drugs transactions, that sort of thing. Given time the Press will forget about it; what with summer fashions and then the football season almost upon us they’ll have more than enough to fill their pages. It’ll be dead in the water. Feel free to dunk, by the way.”
Thurstan leant over and removed another custard cream from the plate. He had to admit the Chief was good, very good. He dunked, ate half and took a sip of coffee as the one-sided conversation continued.
“Now regarding Nickson. I have to say he hasn’t dispatched anyone either of us are likely to shed a tear over. Now, I know you’ve circulated him ‘All Ports and Airports’ but he may be able, nevertheless, to slip back into the country. If that happens, then he’s our number one priority. Use the Ways and Means Act if needs be. Personally, I don’t care what you lock him up for. Walking on the cracks in the pavement, having a wonky smile or even drunk and disorderly would suit me fine, just make sure you get his DNA and, if necessary, we’ll pay for someone to open their lab up in the middle of the night and give us the result in a matter of hours.
“Even if some well-meaning Custody Officer refuses the charge, as long as we have his DNA sample we don’t have to destroy it for six months. The point I’m making, Thurstan, is the DNA sample, when matched, is going to ensure he’ll spend at least nine months remanded in custody, if not longer. Hopefully, the threat of that will keep him well away. In the meantime, do whatever you can to keep track of him. Any problems you get regarding authorisations or Court Orders, come straight to me. Oh, and if you still haven’t put him on the system, leave it that way.”
“I will, Sir.” He stood up.
“Sit down, Thurstan, I haven’t finished yet,” the Chief told him, returning to his desk. He dunked another custard cream. “I love these biscuits,” he commented. Looking at the DCI, he nodded towards the last one on the plate. Thurstan shook his head.
“Right!” the Chief announced. “Different subject. I need to make some changes. Bill Cheesewright is being posted to the Matrix as Superintendent. I’ve decided to promote DI White to replace him as the other DCI at MIT. Taking note of your written request regarding young Drayton he’ll be your new DI. Good news all round, I think?”
Thurstan was pleased. He’d known Chalkie had passed his promotion board, reluctantly resigning himself to the fact he’d probably lose them both within the next six months.
“Great news, Sir. When will they be notified?”
The Chief looked at some notes.
“Let’s see. Yes, they’ll be told on Monday, officially published Friday and effective as from the beginning of next month, so don’t be letting the cat out of the bag.” He smiled. “Okay, we’re done, I think.”
Thurstan stood up again. “Just one thing, Sir...” He was interrupted before he could finish.
“If you’re concerned about the detection rate, Thurstan,” the Chief said walking him to the door, his arm around his shoulder, “I wouldn’t worry. I have full confidence in you. You need to take a pragmatic view of things. The figures will sort themselves out so look on the bright side: Christmas is only around the corner and I’m sure there’ll be one or two easily solved domestic murders over turkey dinners to even things out. Who knows? If you’re really lucky there could be even more.” He smiled affably and opened the door. “Oh, and your personal file?”
The DCI looked puzzled; he’d never mentioned the matter to anyone.
“I think you’ll find you won’t have any problems. He’s always been a spiteful little shit. Between you and me, he won’t be here much longer. I had to recommend him for a job with the Met just to get rid of him. Part of my ‘reclaim the SB’ strategy.”
As he watched Thurstan disappear into the corridor to the lifts, Mrs Byrne sidled up to him, smiled and said: “Did you mention it to him?” He looked down at her, smiling back: “No. I didn’t have the heart. It’ll dawn on him soon enough, I’m sure.” He moved further into her office and clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “Right, Mrs Byrne, you get the tray and things from my desk and I, in the meantime, will make you a well-earned cup of Earl Grey with one sugar.” He checked the kettle, switched it on and began to arrange the tea things, shaking his head. “The Waterboys,” he said to himself and chuckled. “Thirstin’ badly and dehydratin’.”