Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(224)

WPC BELINDA WARNER kept the coffee coming through the next few hours. There was much to see to.

Superintendent Ferguson had to be dealt with first, and Emily saw to him behind closed doors. To Barbara's ears, their meeting appeared to be a cross between a round of bear baiting and a vicious colloquy on the position of women in the police force. It seemed to consist of raised voices hurling nasty accusations, aggrieved remonstrations, and angry imprecations. Much of it centred round the superintendent's demanding to know what he was supposed to report to his own superiors about “this monumental cock-up of yours, Barlow,” and Emily's responding that she didn't give a f*ck what he reported to anyone just as long as he did his bloody reporting away from her office and let her get back to the business of nabbing Malik. Their meeting ended with Ferguson storming off with vows that she'd do well to prepare herself for disciplinary action and Emily shouting that he'd do well to prepare a defence for harassment, which is what she intended to charge him with if he goddamn well didn't let her get on with her job.

Waiting uneasily with the rest of the team in the conference room next door to Emily's office, Barbara knew how much of the DCFs career now lay in the palm of her hand. As did Barbara's own professional fate rest in Emily Barlow's.

Neither of them had spoken a word about those moments on the Sea Wizard that had led up to Barbara's seizing control of the boat. Likewise, PC Fogarty had himself remained mum on the subject. He'd gathered the weapons when they'd returned to the marina. He'd stowed them—along with himself—in the ARV. He'd gone on his way, back to patrol or wherever he'd been when he'd first got the word to report to the marina. He'd nodded at them, said, “Sergeant, Guv, nice work” in farewell and left Barbara with the distinct impression that what was said on the subject of the sea chase would not be up to him.

And Barbara wasn't sure what to do because she couldn't bear to think of what she'd learned—about herself and about Emily Barlow—in just a few brief days in Balford-le-Nez.

“We had a score of Asians … howling like werewolves.”

“One of those take-away marriages all boxed up pretty by Mummy and Dad.”

“They're Asians. They wouldn't want to lose face.”

The reality had been before her all along, but her blind admiration for the DCI had encouraged Barbara to overlook it. Now she knew that professional ethics required her to expose what she'd seen—without wanting to see—in Emily from the first.

But an allegation from Barbara would most certainly be met by the DCFs levelling a more damning set of charges against her. They began with insubordination; they ended with attempted murder. A word from Emily to London and Barbara was finished in CID. One did not aim and discharge a loaded weapon at one's superior officer and hope that moment's breach of sanity would somehow be overlooked.

When Emily rejoined the team, however, her face gave no indication of her intentions. She entered the room with a down-to-business air about her, and the manner in which she gave directions to her team told Barbara that her mind was on the job, not on retribution.

Interpol needed to be involved. Balford CID would make contact with them through the Met. The request they were making was basic enough. No investigation was being required of Germany's Bundeskriminalamt. All that was needed was a simple arrest: as simple as anything could ever be, once more than one country became involved.

But Interpol would require reports to send on to Germany. And Emily directed several members of the team to start gathering those reports. Others were set to work on the extradition proceedings. Still others were to assemble material for the press officer's use in the morning. And others were assigned to assembling data—activity reports, transcripts of interrogations, forensic material—to be handed over to the prosecutors once the police had Muhannad Malik in hand. At this point, pushing yet another trolley of coffee into the room, Belinda Warner informed Emily that Mr. Azhar was asking to see her and the sergeant.

Azhar had disappeared with his daughter almost as soon as he'd swept her into his arms. He'd shouldered his way through the milling crowd on the pontoon, making no response to the questions shouted at him, stoically facing the strobes as his picture was recorded for tomorrow's papers. He'd carried Hadiyyah to his car and he'd driven off, leaving the police to sweep up the pieces of what his cousin Muhannad had wrought.

Emily said, “Take him to my office,” and she finally gave a glance to Barbara. “Sergeant Havers and I will meet him there.”

Sergeant Havers and I. Barbara's gaze flew to Emily's. She tried to read for substance beneath the DCFs words. But Emily's look was level, betraying nothing, and she turned on her heel and left the conference room. Barbara followed, waiting for a sign.

“How is she?” Barbara asked when Azhar joined them in the DCFs office.

“She's well,” he said. “Mr. Treves was good enough to have soup prepared. She's eaten and bathed, and I've put her to bed. She's been seen by a doctor. Mrs. Porter sits with her until I return.” He smiled. “She has the giraffe in bed with her, Barbara. The ruined one. ‘Poor thing,’ she said. ‘It's not his fault he got mooshed up, is it? He doesn't know he's a mess.’ “

“Who really does?” Barbara replied.

Azhar gazed at her a long moment and then nodded slowly before he turned to Emily. “Inspector, I have no idea what Barbara has told you about our acquaintance. But I'm afraid you might have misunderstood her involvement with my family. We're neighbours in London. Indeed, she's been so kind as to befriend my daughter in her mother's …” He hesitated, shifted his eyes away, brought them back to Emily. “In her mother's absence. And that's the extent to which we know each other. She had no idea that I came to your town to assist my family in a police matter. Equally, she had no idea that my experience isn't limited to my work at the university, as I've never told her that. So when you requested that she assist you during her holiday, she was completely innocent of any knowledge that might have—”