Catalyst (46 page)

“I'm right there in your corner, George, but I can't see for the life of me how I can help.”

“I want to put your name to this campaign,” George replied. “I'd like to call it ‘The Deverall Plan' or something like that. You're the one who's grabbed the public's imagination. I'd like to be the one to – sort of – carry on your good work. Excuse the cliché, but… ”

“Hold on, George.” Jad raised his hands in a ‘slow-down' gesture. “I'm really flattered that you want me to help, but don't even think of using the name of a convicted murderer as your standard – standard as in flag, I mean. It deserves better than that. And anyway, the Opposition have taken up the cry; I'm not sure you need to call it anything. I'll do whatever I can to support you, and I really am genuinely touched that you want to include me. So please, let's think of what I can usefully do – accepting that I'm not likely to be given time off to wander round Piccadilly wearing a sandwich board or carrying a placard.”

His visitor produced a weak smile.

“What about this?” said Jad, trying to keep the momentum going. “Why not write a book? You just need to put down on paper and expand on what you said during your lectures and you have a readership-in-waiting of millions – probably tens of millions – out there. If you got your skates on it could be ready for the Christmas rush! Seriously, George, that is something I could help with – proof-reading, research – demographic data, for example – just feedback on the text. I think I really could make a contribution with something like that.

“And if not a book, then perhaps a series of articles – or both. You'd get into any major newspaper, the letters section at least, but I reckon they'd give you editorial space. What about tapping up this guy Tony Dobson? He seems to have become a sort of groupie of yours, from the accounts of his that I've read. Please don't take this the wrong way, George, but now has got to be the optimum time for reaching out to people; whilst the whole nation is still weeping with you over Irene.”

George remained silent for a long time, a little uncomfortable at the suggestion that he should exploit Irene's death. However, he knew it made sense. After all, he had asked for this man's help; he was only responding with ideas for achieving what they both so passionately wanted.

“I always fancied writing a book,” said George, rather absently, as if this was suddenly the most important thing he could do.

“There you go then,” said Jad. “I was joking about the Christmas rush, by the way,” he added. “That's strictly for celebrities cashing in on their fame. Anything real and meaningful wouldn't stand a chance batting against those.”

They both smiled.

The door opened.

“Two minutes!”

Both men got to their feet together and exchanged the same warm handshake and smiles as when they had first met. George stepped outside the room, waiting whilst the guard closed the door, and listening to the footsteps of two people approaching from the world outside.

David Gerrard was seated in a comfortably upholstered wing chair across the desk from Allan Pickford in the latter's large, carpeted office on the SLT corridor above the MIT room. The office was in stark contrast to David's own, with a number of tasteful pieces of free-standing furniture in natural oak and one wall given over completely to shelves in the same wood, filled to capacity with important-looking books no-one ever touched.

“I know how you feel about these annual meetings, David, but I thought we could use this one – if you agree, of course – to cover off a few issues that I think are perhaps more pressing at the moment. Okay?”

David did not answer, his silence inviting clarification.

“Three things, actually,” Allan went on. “Firstly, the situation regarding Deverall; I just want to make it absolutely clear that the case is over. Okay?”

“Yes. Unless my memory's playing tricks on me, I seem to remember we won, didn't we? We caught him and put him away. Case over, as you say. That's how it usually works, isn't it? Sir?”

“Thank you for clarifying the rules of engagement, David, but I think you know what I mean. Deverall's identity is
not
our concern. It might be fascinating – tempting even, as a mystery to solve – but we leave it alone. Are we clear about that?”

“What's all this about, Allan? You told me this when I got back from ‘oop' north; after I'd been to see the kid who knew Deverall. Are you implying that I've been sneaking around trying to find out more? Because if you are, then you're totally wrong. Or very badly informed,” he added, thinking the unthinkable, that Jo may have shared his ongoing interest with his boss. He dismissed the thought almost before the words were out of his mouth.

“No, I'm not saying that,” said Allan. “I'm just passing this on, because it's been re-affirmed to me only yesterday.”

“I'll tell you what, though. I'm not happy about it. I think we've been made to look bloody foolish as a result of this. And I would very much like to find out more. I won't, of course, if you tell me not to. But can I be so bold as to ask why? I mean, if I'm being warned off, can't someone at least have the courtesy to tell me the reason. I think I'm owed that much.”

“I can only tell you what Heat-Ray told me,” he said, referring to their Chief Constable, Heather Rayburn. “Her message was very clear. In the interest of national security, we must let alone the reasons for the deception. If, apparently, anyone were to uncover the background to his change of identity, it puts an extremely delicate operation at risk. As far as
I'm
concerned, David, that's good enough for me. And it has to be good enough for you.”

“Well, at least you've given me a bit more information than you did the first time – the ‘national security' bit. That was Jo's take on it; I guess I knew as well. But it's nice to be told,” he added, smiling in mock gratitude.

“DC Cottrell,” said Allan, “that's the next point. Where are we with her coming back to work?”

“Well,” said David, trying and failing to fit this into the context of his own performance review, “she's been off for two weeks, that's all. She was shattered by what happened; blames herself, like you'd expect her to do. Always prepared to take the blame, uncomfortable with the accolades. You know what she's like?”

“I do,” said Allan. “She's bloody good; in fact she's more than that. I'm not sure what you said to her but it certainly had an impact. The wrong impact. I never thought I'd see her run away from something like this… ”

“Now just a minute!” David leant a long way across the desk. “I said to you, very distinctly, that I believed it was
not
the right time to give her a disciplinary. You as good as ordered me to go against my own judgement, with my own sergeant, and now I'm getting blamed for the outcome? That's not like you, Allan. What's going on?”

The Superintendent raised his hands to calm his colleague.

“Sorry, David, that's not how it was meant to sound. I'm not blaming you – if there's any blame, you're right, it's down to me. It's just that the timing of this couldn't have been worse. You know – we've discussed it – the Chief Super has been monitoring Jo over the past eighteen months or so; taking a close interest. Well, he's just on the point of promoting her to Inspector, when this happens. Credit to him, he's more concerned about getting Jo back and promoted than he is about the Enderby thing. Feels it's just one of those things; error of judgement. And the reason for the urgency?” Allan went on. “Point three on the agenda. Your retirement.”

“What retirement?” asked David. “When have I ever said I wanted to retire?”

“What age are you, David – as if I didn't know?”

“Well you tell me, then.”

“You're fifty-three in two months' time. You started with the force when you were nineteen. You've done nearly thirty-four years; you've earned a full pension already. There are lots of other things you can do out there; another life. I just think you should give it some thought, that's all.”

“But it isn't all, is it? If that was all, then it wouldn't be linked with Jo's promotion.”

“Big G Hookway feels that we can't justify simply adding another Inspector-level position to the MI team at Parkside once Claire comes back off maternity leave,” said Allan. “We'd need to reduce numbers above DS. One way of doing that would be to lose the DCI level position and go with two DI's.”

Allan looked agonisingly at David for a response.

“Understood,” he said, simply. “Not sure why I had to bloody drag it out of you, Allan. I'm not an unreasonable person, am I?”

“No,” Allan smiled, relaxing. “Not in the least. But it's not something I really want – you retiring. But I do want to keep Jo. So you see the dilemma? Jo gets promoted to DI and she has to move somewhere else.”

David looked thoughtful for a few moments before he spoke.

“Can I just add one small item to the agenda, please,” he asked.

“Of course.”

“My performance in the job. Forgive me for being naïve enough to think it, but I had just the vaguest suspicion that this was what the meeting was going to be about. Don't ask me why – it must have been something to do with it being called ‘David Gerrard's Annual Appraisal' that triggered the thought… ”

“David, I… ”

David held up his hand with a smile.

“Sorry, Allan, just a release for my sarcasm. The stuff we've talked about is really important. You know I want the very best for Jo – because she deserves it – pure and simple. But are you in any way dissatisfied with my work? I mean, is that a factor in trying to accelerate my leaving?”

The answer was instantaneous, and reinforced by the shocked look on Allan's face.

“Absolutely not!” he almost shouted. “Christ, David, how could you even
think
that? I can't think of one single thing I could pick you up on in pretty much all the time I've known you. Surely you didn't really believe that?”

“I guess not – hoped not. Thanks, Allan, I really appreciate your saying that. Although I could probably help you to identify some things to pick me up on if you thought that might lead to a more balanced view.”

Allan laughed.

“So basically,” David went on, “I would need to retire before Jo got promoted – or soon afterwards, or Big G would move her out. Straight away?”

“Well, I'm not sure about immediately. There might be some flexibility in the timeframe.”

Both men sat in silence for a while. Allan spoke first.

“I've just thought, you know. I'm coming at this totally from a selfish point of view. Just think about it; Jo will get her promotion whether you retire or not. She might even
prefer
to move somewhere else, especially after this lot. It might even be the best for her, might get her back to work sooner. So it's just me, isn't it? I don't want to lose her so I'm making the link. Right?”

“Well, I think you're wrong about Jo wanting to go somewhere else, because you were
right
about her not being the type to run away. I believe she'll want to come back here, or” – he paused, fixing his eyes on Allan's – “she won't come back at all. That's a possibility.”

“I hope she does,” said Allan, shaking his head sadly, “for her sake more than anything else. How long before we'll know, do you think?”

“I don't know. But let's look at agenda items two and three together. What about this? I'll agree, right now, to retire when I'm fifty-five – exactly two years from this coming 14
^th
of September. You have to fix it with our Gavin that you'll carry an extra DI for that period, a sort of hand-over, with me coaching Jo as her mentor – I mean, she'll be working on different cases to me, won't she, so she'll be doing the job? So there'll be no increase in head-count at Parkside, just a different ranking profile for a relatively short time. You can fix that, can't you?”

“I guess I probably could”, said Allan. “Only probably, mind,” he added.

“Fine. I'm sure you can,” David continued. “And I can handle that – a set date when I'll be going, with time to get used to the idea, and no more talk about it in the meantime. That's okay. Now, what I can tell Jo is that her future is part of a bigger picture. I can only retire if she comes back. Of course, I won't put it to her quite like that – that would be a bit like blackmail. But it might be the sort of thing that could get her to think more objectively – more constructively – about her future.”

He leant back, looking pleased with himself.

“Do we have a plan?” he said.

“You never cease to amaze me, David.”

“Well, make the most of it. You've only got two more years of ceaseless amazement left.”