Chapter 26
The coffee had gone cold and formed an unpleasant skin over the surface.
He stared at it, feeling queasy.
When the telephone next to him rang, he jumped – again. It was the third time in half an hour it had sprung to life and on each occasion, it had been a shock.
He lifted the receiver to his ear with trepidation and announced himself.
"Job done. Meet me at 11:00pm tonight with the balance of payment. Same place."
Robert broke into a sweat. "Oh God, you've done it?"
Rhodes' voice was perfectly calm and unemotional as though merely passing the time of day.
"Of course I have, that's what you paid me for."
He stood up from his desk, fingers raking through blond hair as he experienced a choking sensation in his throat.
"How…? No, I don't want to know… I really don't want to know. I didn't think…"
"You didn't think what?" said Rhodes harshly. "I've done what you wanted, what you told me you wanted and now I want remuneration. If you changed your mind, that isn't my problem, let's be very clear on that. Remember, 11:00pm at the park. You'd be a fool to let me down."
The connection was cut and a continuous, dull drone sounded in Robert's ear.
"No, no, no," he whispered under his breath. "No, no, no."
It was almost a chant. It wasn't true. It didn't happen. How could he have done such a stupid thing? He'd had his brother murdered and eventually, somehow the trail would lead to his door. He could skip the country, live in Spain maybe but now yet, not whilst his father was still alive. It was all a waiting game now and his darling ex-wife, whether she'd been having it off with Jonathan or not, had forced him to play his hand too soon. What had he had to go to her for?
He hated Harriet for that and he hated her for still being relevant to him too. It was her fault Jonnie was dead – her fault that he still felt something for her albeit a twisted kind of wanting.
The pounding of his heart was reverberating throughout his entire body; staccato bursts of frenetic energy too much for him to bear.
Calm. Calm.
There was nothing whatsoever to link him to Jonnie's death. That was the whole point of a hitman wasn't it - no connections. People got away with it all the time, everything was circumstantial that was the thing. And he knew how to deflect attention, how to manipulate, that was his job for God's sake!
Strange but he felt no real remorse. Maybe that would come later when the idea that Jonathan was actually dead had sunk in.
And now he just had to carry on with his day like everything was normal. The important thing was to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Any abnormal behaviour would draw attention to himself and be flagged up should questions be asked at some point - which of course they would.
He glanced down at the cold coffee. He never normally left a cup untouched like that.
The weeping fig which stood in the corner of the room readily drank down the evidence of Robert's distractions and normalcy was restored, at least on the surface of things. Never-the-less, he still flinched when the 'phone rang again despite it being the low buzz of an internal call.
"Yes, Joan?"
His shared secretary couldn't keep the hint of curiosity from her voice as she announced, "I've got Sabrina Makepeace on line two, Robert."
Jonathan's estranged wife and his ex-lover was put through, sounding upset and edgy.
"I've just had the police on the 'phone… Oh, God, it's awful… it's Jonathan… I felt terrible because I haven't even seen him for weeks, well, months really but I suppose that technically I'm still his next of kin."
"Calm down and tell me what's happened," said Robert coolly."
"It's awful," she repeated tearfully. "It happened really early this morning apparently. A hit and run. The police said they think he was run down deliberately, like someone did it on purpose, like they wanted to kill him!"
Just cut to the chase can't you? I don't need the big, dramatic build up.
Robert injected a good dose of horror into his reply. "Oh Christ! Jonathan's dead?"
Again, the breathy, panicked tones. "Oh, Robert. Oh, I'm so sorry, I should've said straight away; no, he's alright… well, obviously he isn't alright. He's in 's Hospital in Tooting. He's on life support and they're saying he might not make it."
Every inch of Robert's skin prickled at that news. Jonathan wasn't dead! Rhodes had messed up. So now what did that mean? There would still be an investigation with all that implied only now he stood to gain nothing from the whole sorry episode. But even so, there was nothing to connect him to it and even if they got Rhodes for it, he seemed old school, honour amongst thieves and all that business, he wouldn't talk. Would he?
"Small consolation I know but at least we know where he is now. I hate to say it, Sabrina but for all we knew, he could've been dead already."
"I know," she replied with a shuddery sigh. "I want to go and see him but I don't want to turn up whilst you're there; I don't want him seeing the two of us there together. That wouldn't be right."
"No, no of course not," he agreed.
Suddenly, the fact that Jonathan was still alive seemed an awful lot worse than the idea that he was dead.
"They'll pull him back won't they?" he asked, trying to sound suitably worried. "I mean, they'll get him right again." Child-like, fraternal angst. "We haven't always seen eye to eye but…" a little crack in the old voice, "he can't die, not now I've got him back again." Too soap opera? Still, he had to admit it sounded extremely convincing, riding high on adrenaline and anxiety as he was.
"They've put him in an induced coma until they know he's stable. The police woman said something about a punctured lung and a broken leg and some ribs but it's the head injury they're worried about."
An induced coma! Now that sounded critical. Robert was keen to know what his chances were.
" 's Hospital you said? I'm leaving work now. Anything else I need to know before I go?"
"I don't know," Sabrina whined. "I only know what the police woman told me. Robert, will you please ring me after you've seen him; I want to visit afterwards. You know the number," she confirmed.
"Yes, of course. I'll be in touch. Let's just keep our fingers crossed shall we?"
If Jonathan was in a coma, there wasn't really any reason they couldn't visit at the same time. But if she didn't want to see him then that suited Robert just fine. He wasn't sure he could keep up the charade of sympathy and woe for too long anyway.
After buzzing through to Joan and briefly explaining the situation in suitably shell-shocked fashion he left work and headed for the hospital.
The interview technique was so painfully familiar to Harry. Starting off with friendly banter, calm and casual to soften her up before the hard-edged questioning began.
She felt surprisingly vulnerable being on the receiving end like this. The room, almost a duplicate of the interview rooms at SI-10 seemed austere and alien, something that was normally played to her advantage. The grey laminate table was pitted and scratched, the plastic chair hard and uncomfortable, things that she barely noticed under normal circumstances and the large faced clock on the wall in front of her seemed to have an exceptionally loud tick she noticed.
"And you woke up at what time did you say?" asked D.C.I Arnby for the third time.
"Six-thirty-five," she replied without hesitation or annoyance at the repeated question. The same thing would no doubt be asked again and again in various round-about ways.
"And the alarm clock failed to go off?"
"That's correct."
"Who set the alarm?" This from D.I. Pelliere.
"Lieutenant Dempsey did. It was supposed to go off at 6:30am." Harry kept her expression completely passive as she told him, "I think you'll find that explanation in your notes."
D.C.I Arnby smiled humorously. "Come now Detective Makepeace, you know the drill."
She caught the fleeting glance of D.I. Pelliere who was also wondering if the sexual innuendo had been intended.
Restraining herself with care, the instinctive, defensive crossing of her arms was quashed. "The alarm clock was accidentally knocked to the floor during the night."
"And this happened…" Arnby referred to his notes running his forefinger over Harry's previous response, "…'whilst making love'. Particularly vigorous, was it?"
Don't blush Don't blush Harry commanded of herself
"Very."
Arnby noted that her previous embarrassment had been vanquished.
"But if you were aware of it, why wasn't the clock retrieved and put back on the bedside cabinet at some point?"
She could be as forthright as necessary. They were only words.
"Because we were both exhausted."
A little smile from Pelliere and narrowed eyes from Arnby.
"We fell asleep," she added. "You know how it is… or maybe you don't." She smiled back with a serene devilment that felt like the upper hand for a moment until reality bit and she remembered that she was actually being held in custody and therefore there was no upper hand to be had.
As though reading her thoughts, Arnby said, "Let's just stick to what it is that you know, shall we, detective? After all, it's your name at the top of the arrest sheet, not mine. Now, you say Lieutenant Dempsey was already up and about and he woke you up when he returned to the bedroom. At six thirty-five."
"At six thirty-five," Harry repeated sharply.
Good Cop Pelliere decided to step in at this point.
"Been partners for quite a while, Harry. Four years give or take a couple of months." He was flicking through a few sheets he had attached to a clipboard. "Looks like you make a great team by all accounts. You've worked some high-profile cases together. Top brass acknowledgement." He cocked his head, nodding in respectful praise.
Harry made no response, there being no question to answer.
"A good, solid partnership makes all the difference, doesn't it? When you know what each other's next move is likely to be, when you know what the other's thinking. Every copper needs to know somebody's got their back but it goes deeper than that sometimes. Like with you two. Especially now, with you being involved; nothing you wouldn't do for each other I'll bet."
Harry knew exactly where this was headed and she didn't like it.
"There are always lines that will never be crossed," she said quietly.
"Just a matter of where those lines are drawn though."
And then Arnby moved in with the stinger. "We all cover for each other from time to time; might be over filling in a chit, might be slipping off on some personal errand." He leaned forward so that his face was very close to Harry's, his dark eyes boring into her clear blue ones. "Or it might even be lying about where the other one was at a particular time to account for their absence."
"Dempsey has nothing to lie about," Harry cried.
"So you would have us believe, Sergeant Makepeace but we'll sound out Lieutenant Dempsey's version when he arrives. A pick up's gone out for him so he should he with us quite soon now."
Omitting the nature of their relationship wasn't an option. This was way bigger than hiding the fact that they were sleeping together and if Dempsey was Harry's only alibi then he was going to shout about it from the rooftops.
Right now they were attempting to make him sweat; using the same tactics they used on the perps. He knew it, they knew that he knew it too so what was the point? And they'd made it clear he didn't get to see Harry until all their questions had been answered 'to their satisfaction' as some jumped up desk jockey had put it.
There was a two-way mirror that was already making him see red even though he had no idea whether they'd put anybody behind the glass or not.
He stood up and put his face right up to it, cupping his hands about his eyes to block the surrounding light. He knew that given the darkness on the other side, you could sometimes catch the glimmer of a light from recording equipment or even a digital watch if the wearer absentmindedly checked the time.
Didn't look like there was anything to get excited over but just in case, Dempsey stood back and gave a casual salute before putting his hands in his pockets and turning away to whistle 'Colonel Bogey' softly through clenched teeth.
For half of the car journey, Spikings had instructed him on the importance of remaining cool, calm and collected throughout so now he was putting it into action. He hadn't raised his voice once since he'd arrived but he had a feeling that it was all in danger of going to hell the second this interview began to sound like an interrogation.
Sorry it was a bit of a boring one. It's always boring when they aren't together *sigh*