The Hireling's Tale
Page 24
‘You forget there are people who really are above the law. Who have the money and the connections to do what they like. Who don’t care what we find out, because pulling the right strings will get them out from under any consequences. Who can pay for their pleasures, even ones that leave other people dead.
‘It’s wrong. Three murders, we know who’s responsible, we got him - and you’re telling me we can’t hold on to him? It’s not fair. And I don’t know what to do about it.’
Liz nodded slowly. ‘It is wrong, and it isn’t fair, and I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it. I tried to think of something on the way over, and I couldn’t. Nothing that would put things right. Maybe it’s just one we have to live with. It wasn’t our failure, it was a political decision. I don’t think there’s any point resigning and going public - it’s a forty-minute drive,’ she said wryly, ‘I covered all the options - when the man responsible would still be out of reach. I think we have to take our beating and move on.’
A ward orderly stuck her head round the door. ‘Detective Inspector Graham?’
Liz nodded. ‘That’s me.’
The woman produced a telephone and plugged it in. ‘Call for you.’
Liz had obeyed the sign at the front desk and turned off her mobile rather than reset somebody’s pacemaker. So she’d been unavailable for half an hour. Somebody must have wanted her quite urgently to route a call through the hospital switchboard.
It was Superintendent Hilton. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. ‘Can you get hold of a wireless?’ He belonged to the last generation that used the term to distinguish a radio, which operates without physical connection to signal source, from all the other things which do as well.
Liz blinked. ‘I suppose so. Can you wait a minute?’
‘Let me talk to DS Donovan.’
Donovan took the phone cautiously. A lot had happened since he’d set off for King’s Lynn primarily to avoid Edwin Hilton, but the memory of that voice, dry as old bones, and the dislike in the eyes that went with it remained untarnished. And right now he hadn’t the heart to continue evasive manoeuvres. If Hilton started on him, there was a strong possibility Donovan would bite back. ‘Sir?’
‘How are you feeling?’
Donovan sniffed. ‘I’ve felt better.’
‘They tell me you’re out of danger.’
‘Yeah?’ Donovan seemed to remember telling Maddie Cotterick the same thing.
Hilton clung to his patience. People had told him Cal Donovan had changed since his days at the Met, had acquired some polish and maturity, but holding a civil conversation with him was still like getting blood out of a stone. ‘I just wanted to say, you did a good job. I’m sorry it didn’t work out better, but no one could have done more. I wanted to put that on record in case I don’t see you before I go.’
Donovan appreciated that. ‘You’re leaving?’
‘My job’s done. DI Graham is perfectly capable of running CID in normal circumstances. I was brought in to take over a murder inquiry, one way or another that’s wrapped up. I’ll be away by the weekend.’
Donovan thought he’d finished; but Hilton added, ‘Don’t let DI Graham hog that wireless. You’ll be interested in the news too.’
Liz found a porter and borrowed his transistor. But when she got back to the side ward Superintendent Hilton had gone. ‘What did he want us to listen to?’
Donovan shrugged. Between the horizontal and diagonal stripes of his dressing his bare torso was like the body of a greyhound, just ribs and muscle. ‘Something on the news.’
She surfed the airwaves until she found it. The local station had it first because some of the wreckage had landed on their roof.
‘ … shortly after take-off from Castlemere Airport. Eyewitnesses describe a mid-air explosion followed by a fireball. No other aircraft was involved, so mechanical failure is considered the likeliest explanation. Pilot error was ruled out by expert observers, who say the take-off was normal and the executive jet was climbing towards a thousand feet when the explosion occurred.
‘Prince Ibn al Siddiq was a regular visitor to Britain, with both business and pleasure interests in this country. He attended a sales conference held by the Castlemere company Bespoke Engineering before visiting local studs in search of Thoroughbreds for his successful racing string. The tragedy has caused shock throughout the Anglo-Saudi trading community …’
There was more of it but they’d heard enough. They stared at one another in disbelief. When Liz finally found a voice it was to state flatly, ‘No one’s telling me that was an accident’
Donovan shook his head, stunned. ‘He told me. He said he had a plane to meet.’
‘What?’
‘Dodgson. He said he couldn’t waste any more time on me, he had a plane to meet.’
‘You think he was on it?’
Donovan looked at her as if she was mad. ‘Of course I don’t think he was on it! I think he blew it up.’
‘With Siddiq on board? The man he was working for?’ It was unclear whether Liz was outraged more by the commission of another murder or the poor after-sales service.
‘The man who embarrassed his own government once too often. Siddiq paid for Maddie, someone back home paid for Siddiq.’
‘They knew before they freed him.’ A note of wonder crept into Liz’s voice. ‘If Dodgson knew when he was talking to you, the people who arranged Siddiq’s release knew he wasn’t going home. They didn’t mean for him to get away with what he’d done, just to avoid the scandal of a trial. A tragic accident was tidier. When Siddiq asked for help with the mess he’d made, they gave Dodgson two contracts. To stop Siddiq being charged; and then to stop him ever putting them in that position again.’
Even after all that had happened Donovan was shocked. Violent death was something he knew about. Expedient death was different, and altogether more chilling. ‘Maddie died to keep Siddiq’s name out of the papers?’
‘It isn’t much of a reason, is it?’ Liz stood up. ‘Donovan, get some rest. It’s over. We have Kendall - though Lord knows what we’ll charge him with if we’ve lost the Saudi connection. Maybe he’ll make a deal with the CPS and plead to a lesser charge. I don’t know. Right now I’m not even sure I care.
‘This world they inhabit, where you can do anything and kill anyone as long as ripples don’t appear on the surface - it’s like an alien planet. Armed robbery, cashing other people’s giros, assault with a deadly shovel - these I understand. I’ve even come across men whose idea of fun is beating some girl to a pulp. But I don’t understand a government that thinks its credibility is enhanced by covering up a crime. I don’t understand Siddiq’s government, and I sure as hell don’t understand ours. The only comfort is that Siddiq will never do anything like it again.’
‘Dodgson will,’ said Donovan grimly. ‘Maybe not here, maybe we’ll never know where, but he’ll do it again. And again.’
‘There is no answer to people like Dodgson,’ admitted Liz. ‘He exists by being better at his job than we are at ours. Maybe one day he’ll make a mistake and go up against someone more ruthless than himself. Not a policeman - another mechanic. I can’t see anyone else getting the better of him.’
It sounded a counsel of despair, but she was only being realistic. You can’t stop a volcano erupting, you can’t stop a tidal wave, and it’s not much easier to stop someone who’s good enough from reaching his target. The best advice to anyone anxious to avoid assassination is only to make poor enemies.
Donovan glanced up at the drip stand. ‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be here. Will somebody feed my dog?’
Liz nodded. ‘I’ll see to it.’ She didn’t say, ‘I’ll do it,’ because she had a sentimental attachment to all her limbs. ‘Don’t rush back. Tomorrow the reaction will hit you like a train. Get over that before you come back to work.’
‘You’ll be short-handed.’
She looked surprised. ‘Will I?’
‘Hilton’s
going at the end of the week. He thinks you’re perfectly capable of running CID in normal circumstances.’ He watched slyly for her reaction.
Liz considered. ‘Generous of him.’
‘What about the chief? When do we get him back? Do we get him back?’
‘Oh, I think so. It might take time to get everything back in full working order, but I can’t see him lying around at home any longer than he has to. Already he’s wiggling his toes as if they’d just been invented. By the end of a week he’ll be climbing the walls.’
‘His wife’s back,’ volunteered Donovan. ‘Maybe she’ll stay till he’s right.’
‘Maybe she will.’ He seemed to be getting at something, but Liz didn’t know what.
Donovan spelled it out. ‘Maybe they’ll give the marriage another chance. And since it was the job that split them up, maybe this’ll seem a good time for him to retire.’
Liz would have liked to dismiss the idea. But whatever he finally decided, if he had a choice, Shapiro must have considered it. Some time in the next four years he was going to hang up his truncheon: just when was something he must have thought about, even before this. Maybe Donovan was right: for a chance to mend his marriage it would seem a small enough price.
‘God, I hope not,’ she said fervently. ‘No, I don’t mean that. If it’s what he wants, of course he should go for it. But it’ll be a wrench to have him leave.’
‘It’ll be even more of a wrench to break in someone else,’ growled Donovan. He was still watching her, and she still wasn’t sure why.
‘Maybe Mr Hilton’ll come back.’
‘Then you’d best think up a couple of years’ worth of reasons to keep me out of the office. Or …’
She cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him. ‘Or?’
‘Or you could do the job yourself.’
So that was it. Liz stared incredulously at him. ‘As a Detective Inspector?’
‘As a Detective Superintendent, Range One. That’s what the chief was until last year, and you’ve been due a promotion at least that long. Find out what’s holding it up. Let head office know you’re still interested, you’re not content to stay the best DI on the force.’
He’d succeeded in knocking the wind out of her. But it made sense. Before long Castlemere was going to need a new senior detective. Why not her?
‘I’ll have to give that a bit of thought,’ she said, a touch shakily.
‘Fine,’ said Donovan. ‘Do it while there’s time.’
‘If there is.’
He shook his head impatiently. ‘The chief’d come back if he thought you only needed a year to get organized. He cares about Queen’s Street and he cares about Castlemere, and there’s nothing he’d sooner do for them than leave you in charge. Go for it, boss! Or we could get someone who’ll make Hilton look like the Laughing Policeman.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said again, firmly. And she did: all the way to the car park. By then she knew it was what she wanted.
Also by Jo Bannister
The Matrix
The Winter Plain
A Cactus Garden
Striving with Gods
Mosaic
The Mason Codex
Gilgamesh
The Going Down of the Sun
Shards
Death and Other Lovers
A Bleeding of Innocents
Sins of the Heart
Burning Desires
The Lazarus Hotel
No Birds Sing
The Primrose Convention
Broken Lines
THE HIRELING’S TALE. Copyright © 1999 by Jo Bannister. All rights reserved. . No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
eISBN 9781466808294
First eBook Edition : January 2012
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bannister, Jo.
The hireling’s tale / Jo Bannister.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-312-24400-2
I. Title.
PR6052.A497H57 1999b
823’.914—dc21
99-47638
CIP
First published in Great Britain by Macmillan, an imprint of
Macmillan Publishers Ltd
First St. Martin’s Minotaur Edition: December 1999