The Pact by John L. Probert

need this job. The kids haven’t finished school yet and the wife’s only got a part time job at the local gift shop. I can’t afford to lose this.”
    She shook her head. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to push you. But presumably you can tell me what you’re not allowed to tell me, if you see what I mean.”
    Wilkins shook his head. “Not exactly.”
    “Can you tell me his name?”
    “No.”
    “Was his name on what he showed you?”
    Wilkins deliberated for a moment, and then nodded.
    “And by any chance did it state his occupation?”
    Wilkins squirmed. “Sort of.”
    “And did it say that if you told anyone you’d be out of a job?”
    “No, Dr Corcoran,” Wilkins had gone red-faced. “He told me that. And he wasn’t very nice about it either.”
    “Let’s change the subject.” Parva took another sip of tea. “What can you tell me about the fire at that charity shop?”
    Wilkins shrugged. “Not much.”
    Parva almost choked. “What do you mean? It’s a disaster that happened right on your doorstep.”
    “I know, and believe you me I was over there like a shot, arranging a cordon and keeping people away from the area until the fire brigade arrived. But someone else arrived first and said I wasn’t needed.”
    “Someone else you’re not supposed to talk about?”
    From Wilkins’ expression he obviously wasn’t. “They told me it was a suspected terrorist bombing and that it would be dealt with by the proper authorities,” he said. “Which meant not me. I was happy to leave them to it.”
    “And have there been many people here looking into it?”
    “Not many. In fact I’ve never seen more than two, and they haven’t been around for a week or so.” Wilkins looked out of the window across the main street. “I wish they’d let me know if we can get the contractors in to start clearing all that mess.”
    “Was anyone killed in the fire?”
    Wilkins shook his head. “No. It happened in the early hours of the morning, before the shop was open, so there shouldn’t have been anyone inside. I can’t tell you any more than that because, like I said, I’ve been kept away from it.”
    Parva could tell he wasn’t happy. “Do you resent that?”
    Wilkins shrugged. “A bit, but to be honest I would have had to call for help anyway, and if it really is to do with terrorists I’d be completely out of my depth. I don’t know why terrorists would want to blow up a charity shop, though. Or why anyone else would want to for that matter.”
    “No,” said Parva, tapping her chin in thought. “Neither do I.” She looked at her watch. She was meant to be teaching ‘The Ecology of the Pond’ in half an hour. “I’ve got to get going,” she said. “But I’d be grateful if you could keep our meeting a secret.”
    “As long as you promise not to tell anyone it was me who told you what I’ve said.” Wilkins gave her a grin.
    “ I promise, and I’ll let you into a secret of my own.” Parva leaned forward so she could whisper. “I’ve been sent undercover at St Miranda’s. Do you think the fire could be due to anything going on there?”
    “Where they had those deaths?” Wilkins scratched his head. “I wouldn’t know. That place is a law unto itself. A load of super rich girls with fathers so powerful they bypass me and get their own teams of lawyers and investigators to look into things if there’s any trouble. I couldn’t tell you much about that place.”
    Parva could tell from his tone that he didn’t care much for the school, but something he had said had caught her attention. “So did you not have much involvement with the suicides, then?”
    “I didn’t even know they were suicides,” said Wilkins. “The first I heard of it was when I was told a helicopter was coming to take the bodies out of here and I was asked to make sure any rumours amongst the townsfolk were dealt with quickly.”
    “So the post mortems weren’t conducted here?”
    Wilkins shook