‘Right,’ said Banecroft. ‘Front page, we go full picture of that – whatever the hell it is. We need the headline.’
He looked around the room.
Ox didn’t look up from his furious typing, but he managed to continue one-handed as he waved the other in the air. ‘Big letters – “What the f—”’
‘Ox!’ scolded Grace, who was circulating with yet another tray of teas – this time accompanied by Viennese whirls. She couldn’t write an article but she, too, wanted to bring her A game.
‘Sorry, Grace.’
‘“Werewolves in Manchester”?’ offered Hannah.
‘No,’ said Banecroft. ‘We will not use that word. We use that word and it’s easy to dismiss it as some kind of hoax.’
‘Won’t people do that anyway?’ asked Reggie.
‘Most will,’ said Banecroft. ‘But we’re not writing for them. We’re writing for the truth. I’ll come back to it.’ He turned back to Stella. ‘Page two – Woodward and Bernstein’s article on the Castlefield murder.’
Hannah glanced over at Reggie and he gave her a nod.
‘Page three,’ continued Banecroft. ‘Blown-up shot of our mystery man in the background – and push the ads. Then – yes – put this: “The Stranger Times is offering a ten-thousand-pound reward for any information on this individual that leads to a conviction.”’
‘Can we do that?’ asked Hannah.
‘Yes.’
‘I mean, can we afford that?’
Banecroft shrugged. ‘If this paper finds the man standing behind whatever that’ – he pointed at the picture again – ‘is, then I’d imagine we’ll be able to afford it by the time any conviction happens. Stick Ox’s article under it.’
‘Don’t you mean “the Chinese one”?’ asked Stella.
‘Don’t be so racist,’ said Banecroft.
‘OK,’ said Hannah. ‘Can I suggest again—?’
‘No,’ said Banecroft. ‘For the last time, we are not handing over our evidence to your boyfriend in the police.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ Hannah winced at her own voice as it climbed a full octave. She was aware of the whole room stopping to look at her. She reddened. ‘Oh, shut up. All of you. The man gave me a lift home in the rain.’
‘Indeed,’ said Banecroft. ‘Is that what they’re calling it now?’
‘Can we talk about something else?’ chimed Stella.
‘Yes. Thank you, Stella.’
‘Because the idea of old people having sex is frankly making me want to hurl, innit.’
‘Super,’ said Hannah. ‘Thanks for that. To go back to my original point …’
‘No,’ said Banecroft. ‘If they want to see our evidence, they can read it in the paper like everybody else. I’m not having this brushed under the carpet.’
‘We don’t know …’
‘We do,’ said Banecroft with an air of finality. ‘Trust me, I’ve been in this game a while. Don’t forget, I used to put out real papers overflowing with actual news, and I’m telling you, the way to get the boys and girls in blue to do anything is to point out that they aren’t doing anything. If we want Simon’s killers brought to justice, then this is what will get it done. Speaking of which …’ He turned his attention back to Stella. ‘Pages four and five – pictures of the Dennard building and the full explanation of what we think happened.’ He looked pointedly at Ox. ‘Of course, that’s assuming we ever have that explanation …’
‘Sent!’ shouted Ox, pulling his fingers away from the keyboard and shaking his hands at the wrist as if they were in danger of bursting into flames.
‘Right,’ said Hannah, rushing back to her desk. ‘You’ll have it in five minutes.’
‘I’ll have it in three,’ said Banecroft.
‘You can have it now, but if you want it edited, it’ll be in five.’
‘I preferred you when you were the clueless new girl.’
‘I’m still clueless. I’ve just realized the rest of you are too.’
‘Right,’ said Ox. ‘I need a smoke.’
‘Request denied,’ said Banecroft.
‘I wasn’t asking—’
‘Page six,’ continued Banecroft.
‘Actually …’ said Reggie. Ox looked at him and the two of them had a brief, wordless conversation before Reggie continued. ‘Ox wrote an obit for Simon yesterday. It’s really good.’
Banecroft locked eyes with Ox for a long moment.
‘Fine. Obit. Picture. Push the ads back.’
‘Right,’ said Hannah. ‘Send me that too, Ox.’
‘OK,’ piped up Stella, ‘I’ve got a page of adverts that should have been placed by now. Are we bringing out a supplement just full of ads?’
‘Find space near the back,’ said Banecroft.
‘There’ll be complaints,’ warned Grace.
‘Let them complain,’ said Banecroft. ‘This edition will sell more than any other in the sad history of this rag or I’m a monkey’s uncle.’
‘It would explain the smell,’ muttered Stella.
Heads turned as they heard boots on the stairs.
‘Grace,’ said Banecroft, ‘we are not accepting visitors.’
Grace slammed down her tray and headed towards reception. ‘I’m on it.’
Banecroft turned to address the room. ‘Right, I know you’re all tired. We’ve been working solidly now for hours. Here’s the thing – I don’t care. In the history of this printed loo roll we call a paper, this is that rarest of things: an important issue. So please, limit your incompetence as much as possible.’
‘Inspiring as always,’ said Reggie.
Banecroft looked over at Hannah. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, what the hell is wrong with you now?’
‘Shut up,’ said Hannah, looking up from her PC and dabbing her eyes with a tissue. ‘Ox’ – she pointed at her screen – ‘this is … this is really good.’
‘Right,’ said Banecroft. ‘Well, if we’re all finished—’
‘You are.’
They all turned to see an ashen-faced Grace standing in the doorway, flanked by DS Wilkerson and DI Sturgess. Several uniformed police stood behind them.
Sturgess held up a folded piece of paper. ‘You being finished is pretty much what this document says. Please step away from your computers.’
‘What in the hell is the meaning of this?’ bellowed Banecroft. ‘You can’t just come tramping in here.’
‘Yes,’ said Sturgess. ‘Yes, we can. This is a court order. This publication is being shut down and all your devices seized.’
This news was met with a clamour of voices as everyone in the room tried to talk at the same time.
‘The hell it is,’ said Banecroft. ‘I don’t know what you’ve heard …’ He glared at Hannah, who looked horrified by the implication.
‘Actually,’ said Sturgess, ‘I haven’t heard anything. What I have seen, though, is that a hard drive belonging to Simon Brush was taken from his home by someone who I am reliably informed is a member of staff at this – for want of a better word – newspaper. My tech officers have confirmed its removal and Mrs Brush assures us that only one individual could have had access to it. Mrs Brush knows him as Ox?’ Sturgess surveyed the room. ‘And seeing as you all just made a great effort not to look at this gentleman,’ he said, pointing at Ox, ‘I’m assuming that he is the individual in question.’
‘We absolutely deny that accusation,’ said Banecroft. ‘We did not take any hard drive.’
DS Wilkerson pointed to Ox’s desk. ‘I can see it. It’s right there.’
‘That is a hard drive,’ said Banecroft. ‘We never said we didn’t have a hard drive. And I assume you are not arresting everyone in possession of a hard drive. Although, frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me.’
‘You’re welcome to appeal the decision,’ said Sturgess.
‘Rest assured we will.’
‘In the meantime, we are confiscating your computers and the hard drive we have reason to believe be
longs to Simon Brush.’ Sturgess nodded and the uniformed PCs moved into the room. ‘It turns out that stealing from the dead is still considered a bit of a no-no.’
‘We’re doing nothing of the sort,’ said Banecroft, hobbling towards Sturgess. ‘We are finishing the story that Simon started.’
Sturgess stepped towards him. ‘Would this be the same guy you left standing outside?’
‘Yes. The one you are going to conclude committed suicide, despite evidence to the contrary.’
Sturgess bristled. ‘I will follow the facts. Nothing is getting covered up.’
‘Really?’ said Banecroft. ‘Tell me, how many inexplicable deaths have you chased to a satisfying conclusion?’
‘What would you know about it?’
The two men were getting dangerously close to each other. ‘I used to be the editor of a national newspaper. Do you think I’ve not seen the stories getting killed? The cases being quietly dropped?’
Sturgess ran his hand across his forehead and rubbed a finger into his temple. ‘That doesn’t happen on my investigations.’
‘Yet,’ said Banecroft. ‘You should have added “yet”.’
Sturgess pointed at Ox. ‘DS Wilkerson, arrest that man. The rest of you, assuming you don’t want to be joining him down the station, take your hands off your keyboards now and do nothing to prevent my officers from carrying out their duties.’ Sturgess held out the court order, and when Banecroft didn’t take it, he tossed it on the desk beside him. ‘Consider yourself formally notified. Pending review, The Stranger Times is out of business.’
CHAPTER 34
Reggie, Hannah and Grace leaned against Hannah’s desk and surveyed the office. Hannah realized it was now dark outside. She’d been too busy to notice the day slip into night. There was no point in any of them being there, not since the police had shut them down, but nobody had gone home.
‘Do you think,’ said Grace, ‘that we could use this as an opportunity to give the place a proper clean?’
The others just looked at her.
‘What? I am simply saying, with all the computers gone, we could, you know, tidy up the place.’
Reggie sighed. ‘Dearest Grace, while, as always, your enthusiasm is appreciated, I’m not entirely sure you’ve grasped the magnitude of the situation.’
‘As in?’
‘As in,’ continued Reggie, ‘seeing as the photocopier broke down over two years ago and we haven’t been able to get it fixed, I wouldn’t hold out a great deal of hope that we can afford a lengthy legal fight with Greater Manchester Police. It’ll be weeks, if not months, before we get our stuff back, and that’s assuming they’ll allow us to publish at all, given … well, everything.’
‘Oh,’ said Grace.
‘Shit!’ said Hannah, loud enough to be on the receiving end of an admonishing look from Grace. ‘Sorry, but I’ve just realized I’m going to have to do job interviews again.’
‘Well,’ said Grace, ‘they cannot be worse than the one you had for here.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Oh, hellfire,’ sighed Reggie. ‘I’ll have to go back to giving ghost tours. Walking around with a yellow umbrella while German tourists ask questions and hen dos from Bolton keep trying to form conga lines behind me. Somebody kill me now!’
‘What about you, Grace?’ asked Hannah. ‘What’ll you do?’
Grace shrugged. ‘I can type and answer phones – people always need that. I will go back to temping and getting let go every month or so. I do not do well with so-and-sos called Clive telling me to “tone it down”.’
All three of them went back to staring glumly at their surroundings.
‘By the way,’ said Grace, ‘he may have sent you flowers, but I do not like your new man.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘That Detective Inspector Sturgess.’
‘He sent me flowers?’
‘Well,’ said Grace, ‘flowers turned up and the card said “from a secret admirer”. How many men in Manchester do you know?’
Hannah did not appreciate Grace’s tone. ‘None. And I don’t know Sturgess either – he gave me a lift home once. I’ve seen the bus driver more regularly.’
‘Well, he is clearly smitten.’
‘Was my name even on the card?’
Grace looked unsure – which was something of a new look for her. ‘Well, no, but who else would they be for?’
‘They could be for you! Or Stella.’
Grace’s tone went up a notch in the haughtiness stakes. ‘They are most definitely not for me – and they had better not be for Stella! She is too young to be courting.’
‘They could be for me,’ interjected Reggie. Both women looked at him in surprise.
‘I mean, I highly doubt they are, but you never know. It is the twenty-first century, ladies. They could be for anyone who works here.’
Banecroft’s office door flew open and he hobbled out.
‘Almost anyone,’ added Reggie quickly.
Hannah ignored him and addressed Banecroft. ‘Well?’
‘I’ve rung our lawyer, Ms Carter, but I keep getting her voicemail. I have left several detailed yet pointed messages. I assume she’ll get back to us before long.’
‘Shouldn’t we go down to the station?’ asked Grace.
‘There’s no point,’ said Reggie. ‘Ox will be being processed and then interviewed, and at this time of night, they’ll keep him in. Trust me, I’ve …’ Reggie left it hanging and looked away, clearly changing his mind about sharing whatever he’d been about to say next.
‘Besides,’ said Banecroft, ‘he’s a paranoid who’s convinced that “the man” is out to get him. I’d imagine there’s a part of him that’s enjoying finally being proved right. Here.’ Banecroft supplied Hannah with four plastic cups. ‘Hand those out. Seeing as it’s a special occasion, I thought I’d break out the good china.’
‘Are these clean?’
‘You can be picky or you can be drunk,’ he said, pulling a nearly full bottle of whiskey from his pocket.
‘I do not really drink,’ said Grace.
‘You’re in luck,’ replied Banecroft. ‘Few get the chance to learn from a master.’
He filled the cups, giving himself a large enough measure that it was in danger of spilling over. He put down the bottle and raised his drink in the air. ‘What shall we drink to? I know – to The Stranger Times. The dilapidated old boat went down while trying to report the news. Not enough of it about.’
Hannah felt the whiskey burn her throat as she downed it.
‘Lord, that tastes horrible,’ exclaimed Grace.
‘Ah,’ said Banecroft, ‘classic rookie mistake. Don’t try to taste it. Knock it back as fast as humanly possible and then you don’t have to. Same again …’
They held out their cups and Banecroft refilled them.
‘Whose turn is it?’
Reggie raised his cup. ‘To Ox. The daft sod spent a life doing wrong and now he will go to prison for trying to do right.’
They all drank again.
Banecroft topped up everyone without asking. ‘Well?’
Hannah held her cup aloft. ‘To Simon, for …’ She hesitated, unsure what to say next.
‘To Simon,’ said Grace, lifting her drink. ‘May he spend less time outside St Peter’s gate than he did outside ours.’
They all joined in the toast and drank again.
‘Lord, how is it tasting worse now? How can that be?’
They were interrupted by a pointed cough and looked up to see Stella, hands on hips, glowering at them.
‘Christ,’ said Banecroft, ‘we’ve been busted by the fun police.’
‘One,’ said Grace, before belching softly.
‘’Scuse me,’ said Stella. ‘Sorry if I’m interrupting, but I thought we had a newspaper to put out?’
Banecroft shook his head. ‘Dear oh dear. Her generation is so used to having technology, she literally cannot understand when
it is taken away.’ He raised his voice and spoke slowly, waving his cup around to emphasize his point. ‘Remember – the nasty policemen came, took all the computers. We’ve got no computers.’
Stella responded by raising her voice and talking even slower. ‘I know. That’s why when you were arguing with the po-po, I sent the pictures to Manny.’
‘Yes,’ said Banecroft, even more slowly and loudly, ‘but they took his PC too.’
‘I … know …’ Stella now shouted, delivering a word every three seconds or so. ‘But … not … before … he … printed … them!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ said Hannah, standing up. ‘Stop behaving like children.’
‘She started it.’
Hannah walked over to Stella. ‘Are you saying Manny still has his PC?’
‘No. I’m saying Manny says he doesn’t need his PC. He says we can print some kind of newspaper without it.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you say so?’ Banecroft stood up and snatched the cups out of Reggie and Grace’s hands. ‘Don’t stand around here getting drunk – we’ve got a paper to put out.’
Meanwhile, a couple of hundred yards away, a lady called Caroline Redford yelped in alarm. She was out walking her dog, Toto, and had been pretending to pick up Toto’s doings with a poo bag – she didn’t like the feel of it, but in her eyes, doing the mime at least showed willing, should anyone be watching – when a short, bald man wearing headphones, sitting in a nearby parked car, repeatedly punched the steering wheel in a fit of anger. Toto barked ferociously at the disturbance; he had always been a sensitive dog.
Caroline looked in the car’s window. ‘Are you all right?’
The man waved her away dismissively.
‘Well, no need to be so rude about it. You need to work on your anger management skills.’
The man looked at her for a long moment in a way that made Caroline feel very uncomfortable. A shiver ran down her spine, as if someone had just walked over her grave, then she turned and hurried off, tugging the still-barking Toto in her wake.
The Stranger Times Page 23
