“Thanks, forget the NHS, should have ditched them years ago. This church group is really helping. Being with people who understand, yunno.”
“Oh, do I not understand then?” Susan had meant it as a joke, but Karen’s face was flat.
“You don’t really, though, do you.”
“I guess not. Sorry. So, any nice men?”
“Susan! I am there for the good of my mental health.”
“Yes, but you can help other bits of you too. Any nice men?”
“There is a man who’s keen. Buys me all my drinks. And cakes. And is very attentive.”
“What a try-hard,” Susan said, biting into an apple.
“Now you’re being mean.”
“I’m not. He has stalker potential. Anyway, where is this church?”
“Oh, it’s got a funny name.”
“Which is?”
“New Hope.”
“Fuck off.”
“You really need to work on your banter.”
“That’s not banter. Are you fucking kidding me? New Hope? Really?”
“Yes! What exactly is wrong with that, you sound like you just stepped in dogshit.”
“I’m investigating New Hope!”
“What?”
“It’s dodgy.”
“Is isn’t,” Karen protested.
“Oh, it is. Homophobic for a start.”
“Susan!”
“I’m serious, you’ve got to stay away.”
Karen straightened herself up, anger in her eyes. “Firstly, you are not investigating it. You are a jumped-up blogger who’s following round cops and writing in a shitty little local paper you spent years saying was beneath you.”
“Now hang on…”
“Secondly, and most importantly, New Hope is a great church full of fine people who have helped me like no one else. No one at all. The NHS abandoned me, they picked me up and Jesus is carrying me.”
“Give you a bed, did they?” Susan shot back.
“What?”
“No one else has helped you. Well I’m sorry I didn’t start a fucking prayer circle, I only offered you a free room and free food and a fucking shoulder if you ever wanted it.”
“You’ve been awkward since day one.”
“Well go and sleep with your church then.”
“Are you throwing me out?” Karen asked and half shouted.
Susan opened her mouth to shout back but caught herself. “No, I am not throwing you out. You’re my sister. You are always welcome. And you are free to go where you want. But my advice, if you choose to listen, is that you should avoid New Hope because something is wrong. And now, I am going out,” and Susan turned and slammed the door shut behind her.
Such was the anger Susan had in her, that the door flung open when she pushed it a little harder than necessary. The man at the front of the restaurant looked up as if he might need to duck under the table and the front of house staff moved like velociraptors.
“Are you okay madam?” they asked.
“Yes, I have a meeting with… Mr Atkins.”
“Ah, yes, this table.”
Susan was guided through the restaurant, a place which served typically British fare and charged a lot for it, and soon she was shaking hands. “DC Atkins, nice to see you.”
“And you too Susan.”
“You’ve dressed up for it,” she said looking at his suit.
“Yes, and you look charming.”
“I didn’t realise we were dressing up.”
“Oh, I like to put on a nice show for dates.”
Susan stopped moving. Then she slowly spoke “date?”
“Our date.”
“This is a date?”
“Err… what did you think it was?”
“I thought we were discussing your job in the police, how that was going, yunno, that sort of thing. Stories for the paper, context for my work. And you are expecting, what, a blow job?”
“Sorry, look, I’ve clearly greatly annoyed you, for which I am sorry. If you want to go that’s fine, but if you want to stay you can ask me any questions you want, just what you were expecting.”
Susan put a hand to her head. “It’s not you who’s pissed me off. It’s my sister. There are… problems at home. So, yeah, let’s go into work mode, okay?”
“Sure, sure. Sit down, order what you want, let’s unwind and chat. God knows it’ll be good to be asked questions instead of asking them.”
“So, do you catch a lot of people?”
“I feel, Susan, that’s the kind of question I would have to lie about if I didn’t.”
She laughed at his pretend formality. “Yeah, fair point, it is like asking a doctor how many patients die. So, why are you a cop?”
“I’ve always wanted to be. I don’t remember a start point. There are photos of me as a little one, dressed in a police uniform. Always been my target. I’m nearly there too.”
“Now that is curious, oh yes, I’d like a white wine please. House white, largest glass you have. In fact, bring a bottle.”
“A coke please. Diet.”
“You ordered a diet cola in here?”
“Style, not substance.” They both laughed. “Yeah I’m not there yet. I want to catch murderers. Rapists. I want to arrest the big boys and put them inside.”
“You want to be in the MCU.”
“Exactly my dear. Exactly. My last case was someone writing harassing letters, yours is two suicides and a murder. But mark my words Susan, I’ll be in the MCU soon, bringing my skills to the team.”
“An admirable ambition,” she said as the drinks arrived. “Do you never drink, or are you being careful with your answers?”
“You sure you don’t want to be in the MCU too?”
“Coffee?” Grayling called out as she approached the machine. Everyone in the Bunker looked up as if they were thirsty dogs and the water bowl just whistled, and when Grayling turned everyone had their hands up. “Well someone is going to need to help.” No one moved except Maruma, because Maruma was always the one who helped her. Susan, sat watching, drinking it all in, made a note to speak to the pair about what exactly their relationship was, as if she couldn’t believe two people could be so symbiotic without sex.
When the coffee was made and doled out in mugs (which first had to be collected from each owner’s desk), Grayling placed hers in front of her, felt the ceramic to gauge the temperature and decided she was ready for the phone call.
“Hello there,” she began.
“You are through to the offices of the Daily Sun.”
“Yes, could I speak to one of your journalists please, Alex Croft.”
“I’ll just see if he’s in the building. What’s your name?”
“DC Rebecca Grayling.”
“Ah,” said the receptionist with the practiced air of a woman who manned the phones at a national tabloid and was thus more than used to police and other irritants. After a long pause she said, “he is at his desk right now, I will put you through.”
“Hi, hi, this is Alex,” said a new voice, slightly high pitched, “you’re a cop?”
“Yes, but this isn’t a complaint. Basically, I am investigating New Hope Church.”
“Ah, you saw my article?”
“Yes, yes we did. Conversion therapy.”
“Yeah. I thought I’d got a big story there, but it sank without trace. You know the news cycle, something big came along soon after, no one worried anymore. A shame really, it screws people up.”
“Agreed. So, here’s the thing; we are investigating a death possibly linked to conversion therapy still being practiced at the church. What do you have on who did it last time?”
“Like a name?”
“Yeah. There wasn’t anything in the articles, so you can’t have concrete evidence, but I was hoping you had intelligence for us?”
“My article was based on the witnesses I interviewed, who all had compelling stories which backed each other up. But I didn’t have a nam
e, just the church running the group, approved by the elders.”
“Ah, okay. So, can you give me the names of these witnesses so I can follow up?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Sources are protected. They spoke on the grounds of anonymity. I can’t give you details.”
“Even though three people are dead?”
“I can call them, ask them if they want to speak to you and give them your details. But it’s been a few years and they’ve all made breaks with the church. Successful breaks. They might not want to dig it up.”
Which, it had to be said, was about the level of assistance Grayling ever got from leading tabloid reporters.
“If you can do that please,” she said making a finger gun sign to the phone and giving Maruma and Susan a grin.
Edward Quince had woken up with an idea. As much as he was indulged in counter-methods of repelling the police and protecting his church, he had thought of a way to work with them to get rid of them. It was a bit of a strange idea, to be certain, but it might actually work, which was why he’d spent the morning having a run and then a massage to think it through, and he hadn’t achieved any logical thought process at all. But it felt like he was back in control, and wasn’t that the main thing here? Which was why he phoned DCI Wick and prepared his most imperial tone.
“DCI Wick speaking.”
“It is Edward Quince, Elder of New Hope Church. You may remember…”
“Yes, yes I do,” Wick replied.
“I am ringing to offer you the services of my church.”
“What?”
“Given the murder of my colleague, a church elder, I am offering to facilitate, and pay for, the DNA testing of all the church staff.”
“Right. Sorry?”
“I assume you have DNA from the murderer, under the fingernails, that sort of thing, I’ve seen CSI, and I want you to test that against all our staff, so we may put this air of doubt and suspicion to rest and you can move on.”
“Move on… by being out of your building.”
“Wouldn’t that be marvellous.”
Wick shook his head at the transparency of this charade.
Quince continued “I know you are short of funds, we pick up so many people abandoned by the government, so we shall meet the costs of this.”
“Well, there is no need to do that. In fact, legally you can’t do that. But we will accept the offer of your aid in swabbing all the members of staff. I assume you’ve spoken to them” he meant ordered, “and they’ve agreed to volunteer,” he meant been browbeaten, “and they will all be happy to do it?”
“Precisely that. They will line up and assist. Blood, whatever you need.”
“Actually, we take swabs in the mouth,” and he couldn’t resist adding, “like on CSI.”
“Ah, that’s even better.”
Wick was feeling playful. “I assume you’ll be included in the tests?”
“Me?” Quince said utterly surprised, which Wick had thought would happen.
“Yes. We have to test the whole roster.”
“Well of course, I have nothing to hide, I am just confuzzled you have me as a suspect.”
“Ruling everyone out is best, so I will send a team along. When can you be ready?”
“I could put a call out and have all staff in this afternoon.”
“Do they not have holidays and things?”
“Not when I ring, they don’t.”
Well doesn’t that sound like a fun place, Wick thought to himself. Still, it would be genuinely good to test all the staff.
“Normally when I put things in people’s mouths, I am having more fun.”
Having heard this, Sharma turned to Lindleman and replied “well that’s a fucking HR issue right there. I’ve probably been exposed to something awful. I want you to think very hard about how bad you’ve been.”
“You really just replied to a blowjob joke with the words ‘think’ and ‘hard’?”
“It’s a new world Lindleman and your mind has now caught up.”
“No, it’s back in the office doing work and not collecting spit samples from this place.”
Sharma was collecting boxes from the back of the car and turned to look at New Hope. The buildings’ industrial exterior painted and tidied up but still a dump of a factory that no large banners and signage could disguise.
“You ever been to a Hindu place of worship?” Sharma asked her colleague.
“No. Why?”
“It is a kaleidoscope of colour and joy and power. This place is the exact opposite. A place where they canned dog food turned into a place of alleged worship.”
“Well I’ll come to your one for Christmas.”
“Oh, don’t you start on that.” He stuck his tongue out at her, so she continued “I’m stuck with a toddler.”
“How mumsy of you.”
“My own kids didn’t call me mumsy.”
Susan arrived from where she parked the car, “oh how many kids do you have?”
“Three. They grew up free range because I was at the office for so long.”
“Awww.”
“No, no pity. My three kids include a lawyer, a teacher and a fireman, so I did a pretty good job while also keeping the streets safe.”
“Mostly by keeping your kids off them,” Lindleman replied.
“I will call HR, I will.”
“Yeah, I bet the Taliban were scared of HR too.”
“Let’s be fucking honest Rob,” Sharma began, “they would be if they ever met them.”
“Fair point.”
“Not fans of HR?” Susan noted.
“Firstly, this isn’t for your report, secondly, no. HR is basically a manifestation of everything the government throws at us with no regard for time. Yes, I can see why it’s good to stop bullying and all that shit. No, I do not need eight hours of safeguarding courses, I would rather be catching criminals.”
“I, on the other hand, am a model student,” Lindleman smiled.
“You, on the actual hand, are a fucking effective con-man.”
“I prefer smooth, friendly and always gets on well with teachers.”
“I bet they all loved you at school,” Susan said to try and jump into the chat.
“Oh, everyone did. I was head boy. First gay one in the school’s history.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s not,” Sharma said. “Tell the rest of the story.”
“My election slogan was Give Me Head. I won seventy-four percent of the vote.”
“And somehow he’s in the police and not prison,” Sharma sighed. “Right, everyone, take a box, let’s get inside and get swabbing. See if we can find someone guilty.”
Wick put a box of cookies on the desk. They weren’t for him and it wasn’t his desk, they were for Green. The DC might have a number of problems when it came to being a frontline detective, and it was best to keep him away from the public as much as possible. But as well as a photographic memory that made him an excellent office manager, Green possessed the ability to sit, for hours at a time, and go through CCTV footage. It wasn’t patience, it was almost the evolutionary end point of television viewing, a man who could sit and work through discs of footage and notice even the smallest details.
“How’s it going?” Wick asked.
“Like horse shit.”
Wick opened his mouth to ask why horse shit and not something else, then realised he was being sucked into Green’s world and it was best to focus. “So, what’s up?”
“I’ve written in my notes we’re dealing with a ninja.”
“Oh boy.”
“Nah, nah, that’s just shorthand. We’re dealing with someone local, very local.”
“Local and ninja have the same number of letters.”
“Err… anyway, the CCTV we’ve gathered from members of the public and commercial buildings provides, what I’d say is about 75% coverage of the radius around the murder site. I’ve been through all o
f it and whoever killed this man was able to perfectly move through the gaps. This wasn’t a panic killing, no one ran in and out blindly, they moved precisely through the coverage.”
“So, we’re both concluding this was a local, or someone who had done plenty of research, and a very precise hit. They went for Cribb, they got Cribb, they slipped out again.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s useful of course. Obviously if you’d found a man with a rope doing a passo down the street it would be better, but it all helps. Someone wanted him dead, and they knew in advance.”
“How’s the swabbing?” Green asked.
“You’re not going,” Wick replied.
“You sent Lindleman.”
“Yes, but he’s not going to comment on people’s bad teeth when they’re stood in front of him.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“It says in your file that you once did do that.”
“It’s not my fault people avoid the dentist. I mean what’s the worst that can happen?”
“Besides the drilling? Because I think you’ll find that even though it’s a relatively recent invention, reasonable humans have an inbuilt genetic fear of drilling.”
“Fair point.”
“So, have you finished then?”
“Yeah, yeah this isn’t going to catch him.”
“Okay, back to going through the office. Have we got the password on that desktop cracked yet?”
“Oh yes. I mean it wasn’t exactly Alan Turing levels of cracking, it was his wife’s name.”
“Let’s hope the rest of his affairs are concealed with the same level of security.”
“Thanks for the cookies though,” Green said stuffing one into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week.
Grayling lay down. The sofa was deep and comfortable, and it had been well worth buying. Yes, she wasn’t home much, but when she was and she wanted to rest with the TV or something on in the background she could sink into this deep comfort, close her eyes and just doze along to music or other sound. Ideally, she’d have put a warm or chilled drink on the table next to her (delete according to the season), but her desire to just fall had drawn her straight to the sofa. Maruma was next-door working on his games, so all that was left was…
Power and Control Page 14