Chapter 33

Ring, ring

How many times had she tried calling now? There was no one there, still.

"Damn this!" Alex cried. So much for Simon's request. Gene was clearly not at his desk, nor was he in CID, and he wasn't even in Latte Land – she'd even tried there. She tried his desk one more time, but felt fairly certain he'd still not be answering the phone. Wherever he was, he wasn't in his office.

She started to panic a little. If Simon was right and Keats was on his way back to the station there was no telling what he was going to do when he got there.

She knew Simon was on his way but she was fairly sure she could make it to the station faster than he would, even after all the calls she'd tried to make. She decided there wasn't time to hold back or to wait it out – she had to make a decision and she knew that, where Keats was concerned, time was of the essence. It was time to make a move.

~xXx~

"Hello again."

Lindsay spun around nervously as she heard the voice, the same voice that had greeted her earlier that day. What the hell was he doing back?

"I still have your card, if I want to call then I will," she said quickly, trying to cut off a potential conversation before it even began.

Keats tutted and shook his head as he entered the room with a smile.

"Never good business to leave your potential new detective constable without a proper introduction," he said, "it was unfortunate that DCI Hunt decided to interrupt us."

"Unfortunate isn't quite the word I'd use," Lindsay said coldly, "maybe take off the 'u' and the 'n' from the start…"

Keats gave a false smile.

"Very amusing," he said, "but in all seriousness I think we should have a talk."

Lindsay picked up the phone on the desk that used to be Simon's.

"I think I'll have a talk to security," she said but before she'd finished dialling the extension Keats's finger cut the call. She looked at him, suddenly feeling very intimidated indeed, and that wasn't like Lindsay.

"If you know what's good for you you'll listen to me," he told her.

Lindsay swallowed. She tried to stand her ground.

"Is that a threat?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"No, it's a warning," said Keats, "tell me, Lindsay, where do you think you'll be in five… ten years' time if you stay where you are?"

Lindsay had no idea where this was going.

"I expect I'll still be doing my job," she said.

"Exactly. Your job. No progression." he took a step back. "do you know how hard it is to make any kind of progress with Hunt in charge? When was the last time you saw someone promoted?"

Lindsay hesitated.

"Kim Stringer got promotion last December," she said, which set Keats's blood boiling. He'd been doing a very good job of not thinking about Kim since she went home. His dalliance with Simon and obsession with destroying him had been a very welcome distraction and one that had helped him to avoid confronting his feelings for her; the ones that were so abhorrent to his nature. He shuddered and pushed the thought away.

"Aside from Kimberley," he said, "it's a miracle if you see a promotion in a decade."

Lindsay hesitated.

"I'm pretty happy doing what I'm doing," she said, "I'm not interested in climbing the ladder. I just want to do my job well."

"You say that now, but once you've spent ten years under Hunt's thumb you'll be telling a different story," said Keats.

"DCI Hunt isn't even my head of division," Lindsay told him.

Keats smirked.

"And where is your head of division?" he asked, "I'll tell you – he's working for me. Simon is happily under the employment of Fenchurch West." He began to edge closer to her. "Would you like to join him?"

Lindsay set her jaw firmly.

"No thank you," she said.

"You worked well together," said Keats, "you're struggling here without him. Put in for a transfer and you can be working side by side again. Excellent promotion prospects and a fuck-off salary come as standard.

Lindsay was starting to lose her temper now.

"I said no thank you," she said through gritted teeth.

"And why not?" asked Keats, "what's so great about Fenchurch East that you'd turn down an offer like that?"

"Better looking DCI for a start," Gene's voice interrupted proceedings. Keats closed his eyes and almost groaned. Not again.

Gene stepped into the room. He knew Keats would be back. He'd been more or less patrolling the station for the last hour to make sure that – if and when he risked it – he'd make sure he didn't stay for long.

"I was just telling young Lindsay here about her promotion prospects," Keats said as he turned around. He slowly walked towards Gene. "Practically non-existent, aren't they?"

"Like yer penis?" said Gene.

Keats didn't take the bait.

"How long was Chris part of your team, hmm?" he challenged, "how fast did he raise through the ranks? Oh yeah, that's right – he didn't."

"Promotion's not for everyone," Gene told him, "not everyone's happy to arse-lick their way to the top." He gave Keats a look of disgust. "Or take it up the arse to get there."

"What about Malcolm?" Keats continued, "it was ten years before that man got out of uniform."

"It took him that long to find the velvet suit," said Gene.

Keats sneered in his face.

"You think you're so funny, Gene," he said, "see how hard you laugh when the walls start caving in." He started singing Starry Starry Night which caused Gene to put his fingers in his ears.

"Don't give up yer day job, Jimbo," he said, "in fact, do give up yer day job, but don't try a music career instead."

"Well don't try one in stand-up comedy," Keats sneered. He glanced at Lindsay who was looking anxious. "Heard enough yet?" he asked, "still want to work for Hunt?" he left Gene for a moment and started walking back towards her. "why don't you ask him about his strange ceiling, hmm? How come he gets a planetarium plastered across it? It's not natural, is it?"

Lindsay seemed to freeze for a moment. Her eyes darted from Keats to Gene and back again.

"Stars," she whispered. She noticed Gene looking nervous suddenly. "I-I've seen stars," her voice waivered, "on the ceiling… in here…" she turned to Keats, "I thought I was overtired… what… what the hell…?"

Keats smiled.

"Tell me about your past, Lindsay," he said, "what's your mother like? What was your childhood like? Where did you work before you came here?"

Lindsay froze, her mouth slightly open. She tried to answer his questions, she really did, but her mind was blank. She couldn't remember her parents, or her childhood, or anything before her arrival at Fenchurch East.

"I…. I've always… worked here," she whispered.

"You can't have always worked here," Keats smiled, "what did you do before?"

Lindsay started to tremble.

"I don't know," she whispered. Her eyes turned to Gene, "W-why don't I know?"

Gene turned to Keats.

"Why don't you go and take a walk off the roof?" he asked.

"That's what most of your friends do, isn't it?" Keats raised an eyebrow.

"Don't remember calling you a friend," Gene told him, "Out."

He grabbed his collar and started to pull him from the room but Lindsay called,

"Wait – I need to know –"

Keats sent one last smile towards her before Gene hauled him from the room.

"Yes, you do need to know," he said, "Why don't you tell her, Gene?" his voice started to raise in volume, "why don't you tell her?"

"Out!" Gene yelled, shoving him down the corridor. Keats glanced back, straightening up his collar and sent an evil glare towards Gene. Just because he was being thrown out for the second time didn't mean he hadn't won the round.

"Going to have a few questions to answer now, Hunt," he sneered, "good luck with that."

Gene paced forward and chased him down the corridor, then down the stairs. He felt himself starting to shake with anger. How many times was Keats going to waltz in and do this? How many times was he going to try to destroy his world?

When he was fairly sure that Keats had gone, at least for now, he turned and walked back towards Simon's old office to find Lindsay. Maybe he could talk his way out of it. Maybe he could explain. But as he arrived he found he was going to have a harder job doing that than he had expected because Lindsay had already fled from the room, as well as from the building.

As he peered out of the window he watched her run from the closest exit into the car park, looking left and right. Looking for answers. Looking for Keats.

"Bastard," Gene cried.

He spotted the bespectacled one emerging from another exit and watched as Lindsay ran towards him to ask the questions that she knew Gene wasn't going to answer. With a smattering of starlight across the ceiling Gene fled from the room and pelted down the nearest staircase.

The sands were slipping through the egg timer with haste now. His world was almost done.