and went back down the hallway towards his bedroom. He stopped to study the photo framed on the wall. It was of him in Sierra Leone, posing with a group of lads in front of a captured rebel truck. Two had died the next day, hacked to death by drug-crazed child soldiers.
‘Why don’t you just put that picture away and forget about it all?’ Caitlin said, coming up next to him.
‘I can’t.’
‘It’s history.’
‘Dad’s history too.’
Caitlin followed him into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Spend some time at home. We could go for walks, visit some pubs, take it easy for once.’
‘Not sure about pubs right now.’
‘You’ve given them a lot, you know.’
‘Who?’
‘The forces. Soca.’ Caitlin leaned against the wall. ‘Why?’
‘Let’s not get into that again.’
The phone rang. It was Cedric’s number again.
‘Don’t resign,’ Cedric said.
‘Give me one good reason why.’
‘At least not before I’ve had a chance to convince you that we can make this work. I’m making progress with the board. If you resign, the whole investigation falls apart.’
Nathan said nothing.
‘Nathan, you still there?’
‘Yep.’
‘So?’
Nathan thought back to the board meeting, to George’s arrogant face and the sense of humiliation. Then he thought of the underground lab and the bags of drugs he’d found, of Amonite Victor examining the results of the Front’s attack with a satisfied smile, of the destroyed villages, of Manuel squirming in agony.
‘I want that promotion.’
‘We can discuss that too.’
‘I want more than a discussion,’ Nathan said. ‘I want to know why George blocked it.’
‘You have my word.’
‘Okay. I’ll be in the office first thing tomorrow.’
‘Good man. We’ll sort this out. Together.’
Nathan tossed the phone across the room onto the carpet. He was answering no more calls today, especially not from Soca.
Chapter 11
Central London, UK
7 April 2011
N ext day, Nathan was at the coffee machine, chatting to some of the lads from the intervention department, when Cedric called him. They met in a small meeting room, a place with no windows and just a table and two chairs.
‘Sorry about the board meeting,’ Cedric said, placing a folder on the table.
‘Forget about it. Now, what’s the plan?’
Cedric folded his pudgy hands. ‘We had a long discussion after you left. The board has agreed to bring this up again at their next meeting. In two months.’
‘Way too late.’
‘I’m pushing hard. I may take it to the home secretary.’
Nathan’s eyes opened wide. Under the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005, the home secretary set Soca’s strategic direction and appointed the chairman.
‘Wouldn’t that get rather messy?’ Nathan said.
‘It’s more like a threat. They wouldn’t want an argument. It would be terrible for George’s career.’
They looked at each other.
‘Be honest with me, Cedric. You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Then you don’t know me well enough.’
‘That leak to the BBC. Was it you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘The interview with George on the radio. The journalist said she’d been speaking to a senior source in Soca. Was that you?’
Cedric’s eyes glimmered. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about.’
‘Okay, I get it.’ Nathan smiled. Sometimes he forgot just how crafty Cedric could get. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You were right.’
‘About what?’
‘This.’ Cedric slid the folder across the table to Nathan. ‘Amonite Victor. She’s still alive.’
For a long moment, Nathan didn’t move. The very mention of Amonite’s name seemed to provoke a physical reaction inside him. A tightness around his chest. A pulsing in his temples. A
‘Why don’t you just put that picture away and forget about it all?’ Caitlin said, coming up next to him.
‘I can’t.’
‘It’s history.’
‘Dad’s history too.’
Caitlin followed him into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Spend some time at home. We could go for walks, visit some pubs, take it easy for once.’
‘Not sure about pubs right now.’
‘You’ve given them a lot, you know.’
‘Who?’
‘The forces. Soca.’ Caitlin leaned against the wall. ‘Why?’
‘Let’s not get into that again.’
The phone rang. It was Cedric’s number again.
‘Don’t resign,’ Cedric said.
‘Give me one good reason why.’
‘At least not before I’ve had a chance to convince you that we can make this work. I’m making progress with the board. If you resign, the whole investigation falls apart.’
Nathan said nothing.
‘Nathan, you still there?’
‘Yep.’
‘So?’
Nathan thought back to the board meeting, to George’s arrogant face and the sense of humiliation. Then he thought of the underground lab and the bags of drugs he’d found, of Amonite Victor examining the results of the Front’s attack with a satisfied smile, of the destroyed villages, of Manuel squirming in agony.
‘I want that promotion.’
‘We can discuss that too.’
‘I want more than a discussion,’ Nathan said. ‘I want to know why George blocked it.’
‘You have my word.’
‘Okay. I’ll be in the office first thing tomorrow.’
‘Good man. We’ll sort this out. Together.’
Nathan tossed the phone across the room onto the carpet. He was answering no more calls today, especially not from Soca.
Chapter 11
Central London, UK
7 April 2011
N ext day, Nathan was at the coffee machine, chatting to some of the lads from the intervention department, when Cedric called him. They met in a small meeting room, a place with no windows and just a table and two chairs.
‘Sorry about the board meeting,’ Cedric said, placing a folder on the table.
‘Forget about it. Now, what’s the plan?’
Cedric folded his pudgy hands. ‘We had a long discussion after you left. The board has agreed to bring this up again at their next meeting. In two months.’
‘Way too late.’
‘I’m pushing hard. I may take it to the home secretary.’
Nathan’s eyes opened wide. Under the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005, the home secretary set Soca’s strategic direction and appointed the chairman.
‘Wouldn’t that get rather messy?’ Nathan said.
‘It’s more like a threat. They wouldn’t want an argument. It would be terrible for George’s career.’
They looked at each other.
‘Be honest with me, Cedric. You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Then you don’t know me well enough.’
‘That leak to the BBC. Was it you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘The interview with George on the radio. The journalist said she’d been speaking to a senior source in Soca. Was that you?’
Cedric’s eyes glimmered. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about.’
‘Okay, I get it.’ Nathan smiled. Sometimes he forgot just how crafty Cedric could get. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You were right.’
‘About what?’
‘This.’ Cedric slid the folder across the table to Nathan. ‘Amonite Victor. She’s still alive.’
For a long moment, Nathan didn’t move. The very mention of Amonite’s name seemed to provoke a physical reaction inside him. A tightness around his chest. A pulsing in his temples. A
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