The Tower by Michael Duffy Page A

had left unsaid. Wondering if there was any message there. Anna sometimes went to services at an evangelical church called ChristLife, and when he’d gone with her last week there’d been a banner saying: WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? Now he asked himself: What would McIver do?
    Slowly, an answer started to form.
    â€˜We’re going to ERISP this,’ Ferris said. ‘Okay?’
    Troy realised he had to think quickly now. A filmed recording of the interview was not what he needed. ‘No way,’ he said. ‘Let’s do a typed record of interview.’
    â€˜ERISP is standard.’
    â€˜It’s what I’ve been advised.’
    Ferris looked at him. Troy had chosen not to have a representative of the Police Association involved, and from IA’s point of view this was good. They wouldn’t want him to change his mind on this by pushing him too hard.
    â€˜If that’s what you want,’ Ferris said at last. ‘But you know how it might look.’
    â€˜It’s what I’ve been advised,’ Troy said.
    It was a nice phrase, and seemed to express some inner reality. As though there was indeed someone else inside him now, thinking more clearly than he was, telling him what to do.
    Troy was shown to an area of the station where an old tracksuit and a pair of running shoes had been put on a chair. He changed into them slowly, retaining his wallet and keys. They’d already taken his weapon, back at The Tower. It was the absence of the gun rather than his suit that affected him most.
    As they took his statement, it was typed up on a laptop. Troy kept things as simple as he could. At the end, the computer was spun around and Ferris told him to check what had been written.
    Troy passed a hand over his eyes and yawned. ‘I’m tired, can’t see the screen properly. Can we print off a copy so I can read it on paper?’
    â€˜If you could just check this quickly we won’t keep you,’ said Ferris, pointing at the laptop.
    â€˜It’s been a big night.’
    â€˜How ’bout I send you a copy to sign tomorrow.’
    â€˜No,’ Troy said, forcing himself to keep it light. ‘I want to take a signed copy with me now.’
    Ferris smiled. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure I can print this out here, I don’t think my laptop is compatible with this system. I promise you’ll have a copy tomorrow. I’ll email it to you.’
    What bullshit. Troy wanted to swear at the guy, but knew this was no time to be making enemies. ‘I have the right to a signed copy of the record of interview. You told me that at the beginning.’
    There was a pause and then Ferris stood up and took the laptop out of the interview room. His partner stared at Troy for a while. Then he pulled some papers out of his briefcase and began to study them. Troy could tell he wasn’t reading.
    When the IA men had gone, Troy took his copy of the signed statement and wandered around the station until he found a photocopier. There was no one about. He put the pages in the top and started to make two copies. When he was about halfway through, someone came down the corridor. It was Little.
    â€˜Still here?’ he said.
    Troy told him he was going home soon. They chatted about the investigation, but there had been no developments. The big news was that the man from level thirty-one seemed to have got away. All the car parks had been searched again, and there was no sign of him. The illegals were being interviewed, but all had denied any knowledge of the two men from upstairs or the gun. Bazzi was not at his house.
    The photocopier stopped and Troy removed the statement and the copies, trying to hide the text from Little without making it obvious. He shook the other detective’s hand.
    â€˜Until we meet again,’ Little murmured.
    Outside, Troy made two calls and then wandered up Bathurst Street until he reached Hyde Park. There he stood under a tree for a