Good Bait (DCI Karen Shields #1)(60)

‘What else could I do? Tell Burcher to take a hike?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘And besides –Warren, Charlie and Alex, wasn’t that what he said? Intent on the bigger picture. All three of you. Or isn’t that true?’

Alex shifted position, folding one leg beneath her. ‘No, it’s true. As far as it goes. But, you know, SIS, we can be proactive in the gathering of intelligence, but basically we’re there to support. What’s the rubric? Something about helping prevent harm and enforcing legislation against organised criminal networks at National Intelligence Model levels 2 and 3.’

Smiling, she drank some wine.

‘They use us, sweetie, like we’re all using you. I just wanted to be sure you knew.’

Karen sighed and settled back into the comfort of her chair; she’d eaten too much – too much casserole, too much crumble. Her bed was the other side of London and she had an early start next day. Nonetheless, when Alex reached the bottle in her direction, she nodded and held out her glass.

‘Let me ask you something,’ Karen said.

‘Go ahead.’

‘Valentyn Horak, one of the victims at Stansted, he was subject to a surveillance operation before, yes?’

Alex nodded.

‘Placed under arrest, charged – presumably with the go-ahead of the CPS.’

Alex nodded again.

‘Everything’s fine almost up to the trial and then, out of the blue, someone at the CPS decides, after looking through the evidence again, oh, no, sorry, this isn’t going to stick, and recommends no further action be taken.’

‘Yes. At least, that’s what I understand.’

‘And you don’t think that’s a bit funny?’

‘Funny, no. Lazy, maybe. Slipshod, possibly. And whether that’s down to the officers involved in the arrest, or the CPS barrister, I don’t know. Most likely a combination of the two. But, Karen, you know, it happens. More often than we’d like. More often than it should.’ She sipped some more wine. ‘Water under the proverbial bridge.’

‘You don’t think it might have been a matter of money changing hands?’

Alex looked at her appraisingly. ‘Whose hand did you have in mind?’

‘Take your pick.’

‘It’s possible, I suppose, but …’ She shook her head a trifle wearily. ‘Corruption, it’s there, certainly. Fact of life. Just turn on the news.’

‘But in this case?’

‘If there’s anything more than the usual vague suspicions, I haven’t heard.’ Alex pushed herself to her feet. ‘Let’s go into the garden. I need a cigarette.’

Who was it who said in London you could never see stars? There they were, peppering the purple darkness above their heads; the night clear and cold, intimations of a frost.

Alex’s lighter flared.

‘Sure you won’t join me?’

‘Sure.’

‘I always thought you smoked.’

‘I did.’

‘When did you give up?’

‘Which time?’

Alex laughed. The tip of her cigarette bobbed like a firefly in the dark.

‘It’s nice out here.’

‘Yes.’

‘Quiet.’

‘Yes.’

They stood there, silent, absorbing the small sounds around them. Other people’s lives. Lights were showing, muted, at the rear of several other houses, but not many. Alex’s husband and children were inside sleeping. The other side of the city seemed far away.

Karen shuddered involuntarily, as if someone had stepped over her grave.

‘You okay?’

‘Yes. Yes, fine. Just thinking.’

‘What about?’

‘Whatever it is I’m missing.’

‘Are you missing something?’

Karen looked into Alex’s face before answering. A long moment, wondering. ‘Probably. Yes, maybe.’ A small laugh, shake of the head. ‘I don’t know.’

Alex touched the back of her hand to the smooth skin, slightly chilled, of Karen’s arm. ‘Best go back inside.’

Dropping her cigarette, she ground it out on the path.

In the kitchen, Alex made coffee while they waited for a cab and Karen asked about Roger’s job – she could never remember exactly what it was – the kids, how the two eldest were getting on at school. In less than the promised fifteen minutes, the driver was at the door.

‘Anton Kosach,’ Alex said, as they stepped into the hall. ‘The guy Charlie Frost was interested in. You’ve not turned up anything that involves him, I suppose?’

Karen stopped. ‘Kosach, no. Why d’you ask?’

‘Oh, no special reason. Just thought you might have run across the name, at least, that’s all.’

Karen shook her head. ‘If I had, I’d’ve reported back. You’d’ve heard.’

‘Yes, of course.’

The cab was in the middle of the road, indicators clicking on and off.

Alex squeezed her hand, brushed her cheek. ‘Keep in touch.’

Karen gave the driver her address and settled back. Her head had started to swim and it wasn’t just the wine.