In the Absence of Iles (16 page)

Esther saw again that it must be an eternal, eternally cruel, problem when selecting for undercover: you wanted someone with reassuring experience as an effective multiface spy in the past; but not someone who’d been
so
emphatically effective that his/her fame and description spread among bent firms, making any future Out-loc a total and potentially suicidal no-no. Regardless of the hints in Officer A’s talk that he, personally, had taken on several undercover assignments, Esther found the two fundamentally dissimilar demands couldn’t live together, and decided she’d probably have to settle for a detective wholly new to undercover.

That’s how it had been for herself far back in Esther’s career.
Davidson, we’d like you to get yourself into the Beeling crooked outfit as one of them and bring us back untold goodies. OK? You’re new to that kind of work? Great! We’ll get you some training, dear.
Esther considered she’d done the job then reasonably all right; all right enough for the word on her to get around the firms that some young female cop had sneaked into the Beeling outfit and, despite having to bale out early, sent half of it to jail and the rest to the Job Centre. She could never go Out-loc on that patch again. She, Esther Davidson, had exactly typified the selection dilemma. Occasionally she dreamed up recruitment ads for Out-loc:
Experience indispensable and will disqualify. Good, non-existent track record vital.

Channing also could come up with a phrase or two. For instance, ‘the
Dirty Dozen
factor’. By this he meant that perhaps they should note and enjoy some of the
thumbs-down
comments in the dossiers of Dill and others, as much as the praise. What might be bad qualities for general policing could have unique, plus qualities for Out-location. And so, Channing suggested, consider
The Dirty Dozen,
regularly rerun on the Movie Channel: Lee Marvin leads a gang of hardened ex-crooks on an important, perilous mission in Nazi-occupied France, their villain skills and savagery suddenly alchemized to the side of good. All right, all right, nothing in Dill’s dossier – nor in any of the others – suggested lawlessness. But some of the character judgements there pointed to apparent defects which might, in fact, turn out brilliantly, unmatchably useful for undercover work.

Esther didn’t altogether buy the
Dirty Dozen
comparison, though. Marvin’s platoon naturally showed plenty of tough individuality and had terrific, manly, snarling contempt for normal army discipline and organization. OK, these might be sexy and box-office in a war drama, but the mixture wouldn’t do for Out-loc. Individuality, yes, oh, yes, as tough as you like: an undercover operative must be able to exist alone, unsupported from the police side for long spells, unsuspected and, if possible, untainted by the outlaw side. But Fieldfare taught Esther that discipline and organization in a successful undercover project had to be faultless, or as close as could be; which, admittedly, might not always be
very
close. Although Esther did seek someone with stacks of individuality and self-reliance, this someone also had to recognize the dull necessity of planning, timetabling, coordination, communications rules, and overall senior rank control. She and Channing both enjoyed one apparently half-adverse comment on Amy Dill’s dossier: ‘She has a quick and astonishingly thorough appreciation of strategic purpose, but will sometimes improvise unpredictably, and therefore unfruitfully, on the detailed, tactical working out of such strategic purpose.’

Esther had a smirk at ‘unfruitfully’, a delicate, punch-pulling term. Most probably it soft-pedalled some wondrous, all-round, Dill-based fuck-ups: pity they weren’t described in the dossier. Just the same, she and Channing read the full sentence to mean Dill had excellent abilities that needed only fine tuning. Channing might fancy giving her some of that. Yes. In any case, if they picked her, the training and psychology tests at Hilston Manor should define and sort out any lacks. Esther noticed the reference to improvisation. Plenty of this would be needed, predictable or not. The achievements of undercover didn’t come by schedule. Esther also noticed the praise for Dill’s ability to cotton on to the main thrust of an operation, the ‘strategic purpose’. It should help keep her morale healthy when stuck in Cormax Turton for a stretch without real progress; possibly without any progress at all, and for a stretch that really stretched and stretched. Dill’s dossier showed no husband or dependants, but that might not be the full picture. ‘Unofficial’ liaisons would not be recorded – a boyfriend, even a fiancé or live-in partner. And if she
were
into a lasting relationship, separation could become irksome. She might need to remind herself frequently then how much her work mattered, and how it cornerstoned a major, overall design.

‘I’ve been to East Stead to talk to her,’ Channing said.

‘Well, yes, I expect so.’

‘Just recce.’

‘Right.’

‘When I say “talk to her” I mean, obviously, in a wholly informal way, at this juncture.’

‘Which way is that?’

‘General.’

‘In what sense?’

‘Yes, reconnaissance only, for now,’ he replied. ‘Very much so. As you’d expect.’

‘In what sense?’

‘Within quite definite parameters.’

‘Which?’

‘No mention of the specific upcoming undercover task yet. General only.’

‘How do you explain yourself, then?’ she said.

‘In what sense, ma’am?’

‘Why you’re talking to her. Why you’ve done the mileage to a bird-nesting division like East Stead.’

‘I talked to several young detectives over there. It seemed wiser like that. As if a pattern of interviews, of equal rating.’

‘Did someone at East Stead have to line up the meetings for you – these talks? You gave a list of people you wanted to see?’

‘I said I’d be conducting routine informal “get-to-know” sessions, reciprocal “get-to-know” sessions.’

‘But they’re not routine, are they? You don’t normally run them. People would wonder about the real reason. That’s how leaks can start.’

‘“Routine” in the sense of nothing special. Informal.’

‘And when you spoke to the others, would it be along the same lines as for your meeting with Dill?’

‘Informal, yes. General. It has to be at this stage.’

‘Juncture. The others are a sort of smokescreen, are they? You’re really only interested in Dill.’

‘I tell them all, including Dill, that we like to keep in touch – face-to-face, not just personnel files at headquarters,’ he said. ‘The human approach. Very much a part of modern police practice.’

‘Who?’

‘In what sense, ma’am?’

‘You said “we like to keep in touch”. Who likes to keep in touch?’

‘The whole command structure.’

‘Oh? Myself?’

‘
Your
self,
my
self, the Chief Constable, Mr Tesler. Everyone concerned with leadership, surely. And a natural departmental interest – CID. I’m there at East Stead as CID Number Two, after all. Keep in touch with all levels. Oh, yes, very much a feature of modern police practice.’

‘Do you think they wear it?’

‘Who?’

‘The people you talk to. The officer who provided the people for you to talk to in a routine fashion.’

‘“Wear it” in what sense, ma’am?’

‘Do you think they believe there’s nothing exceptional in the visit, nothing secret – just some humanizing face-to-face, very much a feature of modern police practice?’

‘I keep it all informal.’

‘And general.’

‘Yes, and general.’

‘So, is it of any use to you?’ Esther said.

‘In what sense?’

‘If it’s all informal and general, what are you getting out of it? You’re there to discover more about Dill – her suitability or not for Out-location. In depth. That’s crucial. How do you do that if the talk is general? A tonne of chat with her and others and where does it take us?’

‘It has to be oblique, yes, so far. Uncommitted. Secure, at this juncture. I’m not going to come out with, “Look, Amy, I’d like you to think about undercover.” It would be premature.’

‘General in what sense?’ Esther replied.

‘Oh, yes, I’ll range across a number of seemingly random topics, always in a lightish tone, putting her and the others at ease.’

‘This is a clever girl, isn’t it?’

‘Dill?’

‘She’s the reason you’re over there.’

‘I’d say she’s clever, yes,’ Channing said.

‘We don’t really want her for the Cormax Turton job if she’s not, do we, Richard? She’s got to be clever enough to come back alive eventually, with usable insights and her legs the same length.’

‘It will be a big help if she’s clever, yes.’

‘That’s what I mean when I ask did she wear it.’

‘In what sense, ma’am?’

‘Did she guess you were bullshitting her by talking general in a lightish tone? Did she realize that the other people you met were only masks? Will the word go around?’

They were in Channing’s room at headquarters. He had a page of Dill’s CV on the computer screen and now replaced it by a series of dossier photographs captioned with dates and locations and covering her career from uniformed basic training depot and early service to plainclothes detective a few months ago.

‘What kind of general topics?’ Esther said.

‘Although they might be general, I could get good insights into her. That’s what I meant by oblique,’ Channing replied. ‘It’s a listening skill. I’m very much a believer in listening skills. I’d start an idea and then wait to see what she’d make of it, where she’d take it. This is how the listening comes in. What she opts for. It can be character-revealing.’

‘Do we know anything about her sex life?’

‘Listeners might appear merely passive, but not a bit of it in my case – something is happening throughout, and very much so,’ Channing replied. ‘Oh, very much so.’

‘There’s a poem called “The Listeners”.’

‘No surprise,’ he said.

‘It
seems
to be about a traveller banging very insistently and forcefully on a door while his horse champs the grass in the moonlight, but really it’s about those inside simply staying quiet and listening to him banging on the door.’

‘That would catch what I’m after exactly,’ Channing replied.

‘You’re not the one banging on her door?’

‘No, a listener.’

‘When you say “topics”, were they police topics?’

‘A range. I imposed no limits. It’s more productive. That’s why I call the chats informal.’

‘Where
did
she take it?’

‘What?’

‘The idea. The one you started.’

‘Yes, very various. A range.’

‘But not to do with undercover?’

‘Not at this juncture.’

‘Do you think she guessed it
was
actually to do with undercover? Maybe there’s a buzz about. People know we’re stymied on Cormax Turton after using ordinary methods for months and months. Would she pick up your real purpose? We agree she’s smart.’

‘Politics, sport, cookery – a spectrum,’ Channing replied.

‘Well, take cookery. What could you learn about her from that as a topic – relevant to undercover? Does she favour a particular kind of cuisine – say Mex or Estonian? Can you deduce something about her from that?

‘And then by a sort of lateral thinking on to some other subject. An amazingly smooth switch. Speedy.’

‘Is lateral thinking good for undercover? Well, I can see it might be.’

‘And all the time I’m observing her, without getting obtrusive, I hope, but really observing – her breathing, her eyes, speech patterns, hand movements. That kind of thing.’

‘Well, yes.’ Esther had seen the pictures of Dill before. They worried her then, and still did. Part of that worry she recognized as inane. It centred on the photographs of her in uniform. She looked so totally right as a police officer, although more beautiful than most. Strangers might queue to ask her street directions. Thieves might flee from her across warehouse roofs. Esther knew that almost anyone stuck into a police uniform would look like police, and it was absurd to think these photographs eliminated Dill from undercover because she seemed too obviously cop. Esther’s worries lingered, though.

‘Chief, when I say “lateral thinking” – that’s just a phrase, perhaps a bit high-falutin – when I say “lateral thinking” I don’t mean her mind skids about all over the place willy-nilly. She can bring it to bear, really bring it to bear. Your word – “clever”. A true brain there. If, for instance, we got her into Cormax Turton as a pusher she could handle all the selling side, no bother. She wouldn’t have trouble with price changes day by day on the street, or bulk discounts on stuff for, say, a wedding reception or Social Services conference in the Mutalle Centre. She’d be able to keep all that in her head and when she handed over takings to Palliative or Ambrose they’d be spot on, no cause for possibly awkward queries. This is important. We need to establish competence, reliability. We’ve got to lull. Someone who can give them an assured trading flair like that is sure to move up the system. And that’s what we’re after, isn’t it? She must get to the leadership and get trusted by the leadership – where the real information is.’

‘She’s a looker, isn’t she?’ Esther replied.

‘In what sense?’

‘The usual sense. A man about somewhere?’

He took a good squint at the pictures. ‘Yes, I suppose to a degree she could be called a looker.’

‘Is she as good as this in the flesh?’

‘In the flesh?’

‘Face-to-face. While you were observing her breathing and so on, I expect you noticed whether the photographs had her right.’

‘When I say “observing” I don’t so much mean gazing at her face and body in the usual sense, but observing her various reactions to what was going on. This is coupled with the “listening” technique I mentioned previously. It’s the sort of dual function of the interview, the two things complementary. I’m waiting for her to, as it were, emerge – letting her emerge.’

‘From?’

‘Yes, “emerge” is the word, I think. I want the complete Amy Dill.’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Time is necessary.’