Chapter 20

Victoria felt strange, nervous and apprehensive as she walked into Fenchurch East. She knew this wasn't the done thing. She wondered if she'd spontaneously combust or something. But so far, so good. She located Fletcher's office with ease and knocked on the door. She waited until he grunted a response before she opened the door slowly and nervously.

"Hello, DI Stone," he began, "come in, come in." He indicated a chair. "Take a seat."

Victoria smoothed down her smart suit and did as she was told.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Sir," she said, recalling their last encounter when Keats was unconscious in hospital.

"Victoria," Fletcher began informally, "you know that if I were able to I'd bring you on board here in a flash. But that's not my call."

Victoria looked down a little sadly.

"I know," she said quietly.

"However," he began, "when your DCI, the one who is calling all the shots, seems content to start up a 'joint investigation' then he's set a precedent. So I am perfectly happy to bring you on board for this. And I don't see that he can say a word against it."

"A word? Well, he already has," Victoria said crossly, "but I wasn't listening."

"Good," said Fletcher. He nodded. "Victoria, do you know why I have brought you in for this case?"

"It's something about Nick Nailer and who's been helping to run his operations while he's been inside, isn't it"

"But do you know why I've brought you in on this case?" He watched her look at him blankly. "I think we both have our suspicions about who is responsible. And I think we have that same suspicion. We both know who the likely suspect is. And I know that you want to see justice done every bit as much as I do." He paused. "But if my men were sent in then he'd be calling foul. He'd claim we were setting him up. That's why it has to be someone from Fenchurch West who goes in to investigate. And you, my dear, are the one who'll bring justice to this situation.,"

Victoria stared at him. He wasn't like the Super at Fenchurch West. This was a man who actually had a sense of responsibility. She nodded slowly.

"I won't let you down, sir," she said.

Fletcher nodded.

"HMP Fenchurch is awaiting your visit" he said, "here is the paperwork you will need," he slid some papers across the table to get. "There should be no problem with speaking to Mister Nailer but if there is then just drop my name and ask them to call me."

Victoria nodded.

"Right. Than you, sir."

Fletcher looked at her seriously.

"This could be the best chance you have at shifting the manure from that station," he said, "if you want to be able to breathe easy then give this all you've got."

"I will," Victoria assured him.

She stood up, clutching her papers and wondering what was going to come of this. The proposal for the joint investigation has come out of the blue but had raised her hopes that for once justice might be done. Now she just had to hope that her nerve would hold out and she could stand firm.

~xXx~

Simon felt as though he had been waiting forever for Keats to get to work that morning. Lurking in his office, he had almost paced a hole in the carpet. When he saw the door begin to open and caught a glimpse of some spectacles and a long coat entering he knew there exactly what to do. Mimicking a gesture that he'd been subjected to on more than one occasion he grasped Keats by the collar and jammed him hard against the filing cabinet, drawing so close to him that he was just an inch away from his face.

"I want a word with you," he hissed.

Keats struggled and pushed until he removed the offending Simon from his shoulders.

"Well, well, I see the Gene Hunt influence has been rubbing off on you," he spat distastefully.

"'No wonder Robin is on the turn'," Simon hissed, "what did you mean by that"

"What?"

"In Gene's office," Simon's anger boiled over, "you told me Robin was on the turn. What the fuck did you mean by that?"

Keats raised an eyebrow and indicated the open doorway.

"You want the whole station to hear?"

Simon kicked out behind him. His foot struck the door and it slammed shut.

"Now," he began, "tell me what the hell you meant. And what you mean by all the shit you've been saying since you woke up." He started to pace furiously. "How the hell do you know any of that crap anyway? What happened to you?"

Keats's expression changed from worried to amused.

"Oh Simon," he began with a smile, "what happened to me? I went on a fantastic holiday, that's what happened to me. To a faraway exotic land you never quite made it to." He beamed. "Two thousand and eleven."

"Bullshit," spat Simon.

"Really?" Keats sighed, "You think I'm talking bollocks? Then you won't want to hear all about my adventures in a deserted boat where once a young detective inspector met with a bullet in her head? You won't want to hear about the guests I took back to my new humble abode? So nice of Layton to share that memory with me." He stepped closer to Simon and watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously. "Not the nicest body to share with a drug addled worm but it did the trick."

"What the fuik are you trying to say?" Simon whispered.

"So nice going, back somewhere, isn't it?" Keats sneered, "catching up with old friends." He gave Simon a charming smile. "Caught up with a couple of your old friends, actually Simon. Invited them round for tea. Well, I say 'tea'. Nothing quite that formal." He watched Simon's expression carefully. "Of course, the first person I looked up was Kimberley." He saw a wave of panic crossing Simon's face. "She made it nice and easy for me, going back to the force. Just when you thought it was safe to go back to CID…" He hummed Jaws music eerily at Simon for a few moments before giving a malevolent laugh.

"That's crap, I told her to leave her job so you couldn't find her," Simon hissed.

"Well, I had been dead a long time," Sighed Keats, "but then she wasn't expecting me to do a timeshare deal with Layton. Nice to catch up with her. Gave her a little bit of help with her new haircut." He sneered right into Simon's face, "of course, after I'd invited her back to the boat she found herself a little tied up. And she was the perfect bait for luring guest number two." His face took on a gloat. "You see, Simon, it appears that Kimberley has forged a rather close friendship with your dearly betrothed. Inseparable, from the looks of it." He took such pleasure in the strange mix of emotions crossing Simon's face. "So when I let it slip that I had her, he went running off on her trail. So hot-headed these days, you know. Storming off after her, coming to her rescue. Found himself as another guest on my boat."

He started to hum Messing About on the River as he paced up and down, feeling Simon's stare upon him all the time.

"Crap," said Simon, "this is bollocks."

"Is it?" Keats raised an eyebrow, "is it really?" he shook his head. "You should have seen them, Simon. Never would have believed it if I hadn't seen them with my own two eyes. Lips locked, like a couple of bloody teenagers."

Simon's stare never faltered.

"You're lying."

"I am, am I?" Keats stopped pacing and walked grimly towards him. "If I'm lying then why did you ask me that question? Hmm? What have you seen Simon? You had a dream, hmm? A little window to the future?"

"Fuck off," Simon spun on his heels.

"Oh, losing interest now?" Keats raised an eyebrow, "don't want to talk any more? Was it that bad, Simon? More illicit snogs by the river? Or have they moved on from there? Hmm?" he steeped as close to Simon as he could get without their noses touching and hissed, "Maybe I was wrong the other night, hmm? Maybe it's not Robin that was never enough for you. Maybe you were never enough for him. Kimberley has more balls than you'll ever have."

"Fucking bastard," Simon's punch swung hard at Keats but Keats had been expecting it and moved quickly with Simon's knuckles barely grazing his cheek. Instead Keats caught his fist and wrenched his arm around his back where he slammed him up against the door and hissed into his ear;

"You seem to be forgetting who's in charge around here, Simon. It's me. It's my name on that door out there. You surrendered any right you had to your own life when you stepped through those doors."

"You're not my boss," Simon spat, "we're equals."

"Nothing equal about us, as I found out the other night," Keats sneered, "and there never will be. You have no authority here, Simon. You never will."

"What are you going to do? Demote me?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to fucking do," Keats slammed his head harder against the wall, "for attempting to assault a fellow detective chief inspector."

"You can't do that, that's not your job."

"Everything here's my fucking job!"

"You're answerable to someone, somewhere."

"That's bollocks and you know it, Simon. There's just me. There are people sat on perches, nailed there by me, doing fuck all. It's me who gives the word, Detective Inspector Shoebury. That's all you are now. Your title might have been good enough while you were lurking in that milky cup of tea they call Fenchurch East but here?" he spat angrily. "Here your warrant card isn't worth the ink it's printed with. You can't stay DCI here, Simon. It takes someone with more guts than you." He shoved him angrily to the floor, ignoring his howl of distress and straightened up his tie. "Now, if that's all then you'll have to excuse me. I have work to do."

He let the door swing open and closed as he marched through it, leaving Simon in a heap on the floor, his breath choked with the tears he was trying not to let out. His life really was over, and all from one stupid mistake. Every time he thought he'd hit rock bottom the lift arrived to take him to another layer deep below.

X

Keats marched into CID, no one even batting an eyelid about the commotion from his office. They'd learnt not to ask.

"Stone?" he barked, his eyes moving around the room, "where's DI Stone?"

"She's gone to visit a prisoner," someone piped up.

Keats turned his eyes to him.

"What do you mean, visit a prisoner?"

"Asking him some questions about some case she's working on, apparently," the man told him.

Memories of her words the day before came back to Keats. Anxiety and anger began to run through his veins.

"Right," he hissed as his legs took him from the office so fast he almost flew. Victoria was becoming embroiled with two places he wanted her to stay well away from – Fenchurch East and wherever Nick Nailer was. He had to put a stop to this before it was game over, because this time? He was out of continues.