Chapter 4 – Dealing with Disaster

It was the weekend again, and as every Saturday morning over the past few weeks, Richard looked out of the window – this time it was the bedroom window. He hadn't even showered yet as he had figured that he'd go for a run before breakfast – and then he'd shower afterwards. But at the sight that he got presented outdoors, he sighed. He was obviously doomed – it rained again. Well, so far for his fancy plans to go for a lengthy run today! Obviously, it had to be swimming again this weekend. He got dressed, packed his swimming bag, and a few minutes later, he left the house. He'd have a good hot shower at the pool before going into the water, and hopefully, that would wash away all his misery.

As he walked to the bus stop, he got into thinking… Maybe, with some luck, he'd get to see the mysterious woman in the red swimsuit again – and if not, he'd get some exercise at least and recharge his batteries. He really needed that today!

This week everything seemed to go wrong. He felt like he was trapped in some bad TV programme and couldn't get out of it.

On Tuesday, he had finally plucked up the courage to do a little research and look up the Saint Marie Police Force on the net. Not that it had been overly complicated – he had just never given it a shot. Whenever he had been tempted before, he had quickly found something to distract him from looking into it. He didn't want to know…

Why bother when you had left this part of your life behind, anyway? That had been his 'official' pretext, but the truth was that he had always been scared of what he might find out and how he would react to it. If Camille was still there, seeing her name would just open old wounds, and if she wasn't, he'd surely get into speculating, and that wouldn't do him good, either. But after all the reminiscing about Saint Marie, he had felt that maybe it was time to find out so he could obtain closure and heal properly.

In hindsight, it had probably been a bad idea to check out the site… He had felt rather unsettled afterwards. No, 'unsettled' didn't describe it – he had been devastated and distraught.

Actually, the staff list (not accessible for the public, for good reasons) had shocked him – the only familiar name on it – apart from Selwyn Patterson's - was Dwayne's.

He had certainly heard about his successor, Humphrey Goodman, although he didn't know him personally. His father was a well-known barrister, and Richard had heard a couple of weird stories about Goodman – in how far they were true, he didn't know, though. He was always cautious with gossip – people tended to exaggerate, so he didn't believe everything he heard.

There were two more new names on the list, Detective Sergeant F. Cassell, and Constable JP Hooper. There were short, gender-neutral bullet-point CVs on the internal site, along with the personal e-mail addresses of each officer, but no pictures – that was common, even for internal sites. There were even stricter rules for the public sites… Police stations were strongly discouraged to have staff photos on their websites, for obvious reasons. For the same reasons, there were only general e-mail addresses available for the public – personal e-mail addresses were not disclosed.

It had taken Richard a moment to digest that Camille obviously was gone – and Fidel had disappeared, too. Well, Fidel was a diligent and reliable officer, and he had always been ambitious, and perhaps he had got a better offer somewhere else – but what had become of Camille? Of course, she was a qualified copper, and she had perhaps applied for a position somewhere else in the forces, but then again… she had always claimed that Saint Marie was the best place on earth and she'd never move away… So, she surely hadn't left… Why would she? She had always been happy and content there…

The thought that she might be married and living happily ever after with a family of her own on the island was somewhat disconcerting, almost tormenting… For the remainder of the day, he had walked around in a daze, and the throbbing of the dull pain he had been feeling for so long when he had thought of her had turned into the sharp pain of a stabbing knife all of a sudden.

That evening, he had sat in his living room, in the dark, and slowly finished a bottle of wine he had opened the week before for just one glass, while listening to a Rachmaninov piano concerto – and then to bits of Tchaikovsky's 'Swan Lake'. He had had his headphones on and turned up the volume to drown out all his thoughts and feelings. However… that hadn't stopped his eyes from getting wet and brimming over, and it hadn't stopped the knife from turning in his heart. He hadn't wanted to think, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling… and he had felt terribly lost and lonely. All hope had vanished – he hadn't realised that - against all odds - he had somehow hoped that a miracle would happen… What that could be, he hadn't known – but now that he felt so hopeless, he realised that he had never entirely given up on his dream…

Eventually, he had fallen asleep in his armchair, too tired to move when the music had ended and the bottle had been emptied.

Of course, the only noticeable effect had been that he had woken up on the next morning with a bad taste in his mouth, red-rimmed eyes and the most terrible hangover he had ever experienced in his entire life (at least he had found out now that three very generous glasses of wine were more than he could handle, he thought morosely as he brushed his teeth, appalled by his sallow complexion and the deep bags under his eyes) – paired with a lot of work, that hadn't been too great. He had had the headache from hell, his stomach had acted up, and he had generally felt 'off' and miserable. He couldn't eat lunch because he'd felt so awful, and by the end of his workday, he had felt so horrible that he had wanted to hide under a rock and never come out again.

He had had two minor arguments with his superintendent on Wednesday, and he had almost incinerated his mouth when he had been too impatient for his tea to cool off a little and drunk it too hastily.

On top of all this, on Thursday, one of his DIs had called in sick – with a broken leg. He'd be out of work for at least four to six weeks. It had been a silly accident, of course. Harrison was full of remorse, but well… what could you do?

That had meant that Richard had had to re-assign tasks to others - and he would have to find a way to take care of Harrison's current case.

In short, Richard was not a happy bunny… Not at all.

It had been a taxing week for Camille, and so she had struggled a bit to get out of her bed on Saturday morning, but she had promised herself to go swimming again, so she had made an effort and pulled herself together. It had been worth it – there had only been about ten or twelve other people in the pool, and she had managed to swim a little longer this time. She felt that she was getting stronger already – since she had stopped going to the gym when she had left Saint Marie, she had mostly been walking and done a little bit of running, but swimming was a different form of workout again, and it did her good to have a little variety.

She was slightly worried about how the next week would pan out for her. What if the new station wasn't any better? She didn't know yet where she'd go – Superintendent Tyler had let her know on Friday that she would stay at Barnet until Monday evening at least – she had been talking with HR, and they had mentioned two other stations that could perhaps take another intern, but so far nothing had come out of the talks. HR had promised to contact the stations, but until Friday afternoon, nothing had come out of it.

Well, she'd see what Monday would bring – but she honestly was a little concerned now. She had been so much looking forward to working on real cases again, to dealing with actual people and having responsibility, and then it had all fallen to pieces – and there was no guarantee that she'd be more welcome at another station.

However, it was pointless to waste too much energy on wondering and pondering. She couldn't take influence, anyway, so she'd best just accept that and go with the flow, as hard as it might be.

After she had finished swimming, Camille climbed out of the water and wrung out her hair. It had grown quite a bit over the past few months, and she knew it would suffer from swimming in chlorinated water, so she wondered if she should perhaps trim it a little over the weekend. As she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her body, her eyes fell on the diving towers. Three metres she had done before, and that had been fun, but five metres – that would be a first. Considering that the jumping pool was three metres deep, you were eight metres over the bottom of the pool – looking down into an 'abyss' like that could be a bit scary.

But then again – it was tempting to give it a try. She had jumped into waterfall pools from cliffs back home on Saint Marie, and although she wasn't entirely sure about the height of the cliffs, she figured it might have been three to four metres, plus the waterfall pools were between three and four metres deep, so it hadn't been too different from this. She thought of all the things she had done in her life so far and figured it wouldn't hurt to add this to the list.

So, she hung the towel back on the rack and approached the jumping pool…

Richard stood in the water, at the other end of the swimming pool, staring incredulously at the woman climbing up the ladder to the five metres diving tower. It was the mysterious woman in the bright red swimsuit again, and obviously she was either extremely brave or extremely crazy – he couldn't quite make up his mind which was more likely. Maybe she was both? The mere thought of having to jump into a gaping hole full of water scared him out of his wits – and he wouldn't do it for all the tea in China (which meant quite something for a tea lover like him…). Although, naturally, a hole full of water was considerably better than a plain empty hole, all things considered… Still, this was crazy.

He could see her climbing up and up and up… there she was, on the top, and then she moved to the edge of the board. Most people he had seen jumping from diving towers had basically held their nose and jumped, feet first. Others had taken a run up and jumped – again, feet first. But this woman was incredible. He could see her elegant silhouette as she stood there for a moment – right at the edge of the board – then she threw back her hair once again, graciously lifted her arms… and then, in a smooth movement, she jumped, taking a header.

Richard was fascinated – and absolutely petrified at the same time. He couldn't imagine doing something like that – and she had done it so effortlessly… Before he had recovered from his daze, the woman had climbed out of the water again, and without looking back, she grabbed her towel and left.

As he dived in again, he wondered if he was going insane. He admitted to himself that a main reason for going swimming again this morning had indeed been curiosity – he had been curious if the mysterious woman in red was there again, or if her appearance last week had been a one-off. From the distance, she had looked so much like Camille – considering how much pain he had gone through because of Camille, it seemed weird that he was so keen on seeing someone who resembled her. Was he perhaps a masochist?

For the next ten laps he chided himself for being a complete moron. For being so obsessed with Camille. For having checked the website of the Saint Marie Police Force. For drowning his pain, frustration and despair in a bottle of wine afterwards. For wondering how she might be. For not being able to let go…

Why, oh why had the memory of her come back to haunt him like this? She had been able to let go, too – why couldn't he do the same? Why couldn't he just forget her?

But after a while, the rhythmic, steady movement did its magic, and he forgot everything that was going on outside of the water. Gratefully, he noticed how he was floating along, how he was becoming one with the water, how he was getting lighter and almost weightless… This was why he had always liked swimming – it set him free.

Refreshed, he finally left the pool and got on with his day. This swim had given him new energy, and he did his chores easily and cheerfully today. In the late afternoon, he sat in his living room and had a look at the files he had taken home, and what had seemed odd and complicated before, suddenly seemed to fall into place…

It was Monday, and the new week didn't start off too well for Superintendent Jack Morris. Not only had one of his DIs called in sick with a broken leg last week – no, DCI Poole kept pestering him with going on and on about how his team couldn't manage without additional support, how difficult it would be to re-distribute tasks and how he was sure they couldn't meet the deadlines for the projects they had prepared with the other station in the borough, Holloway.

Around noon, Morris felt and heard his stomach rumble, and he knew what that meant. With a frown, he took out his medication and poured himself another glass of water. Just when he had taken another tablet and washed it down with water, the phone rang. He frowned when he recognised the number – that did not bode well…

With resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and said, forcing himself to smile so his voice wouldn't sound quite as frustrated as he was currently feeling, "Oh, hello, Angela!"

What followed then didn't really make him feel any better. He listened to Angela Tyler's long tirade about her useless and difficult DI, about the complications that HR caused with their inability to get things accomplished, and about how she had no idea what to do with the intern who had been assigned to her station.

He tried to sound interested and helpful and asked "Why don't you just let her go to Colindale?"

He shouldn't have done that. Another tirade followed, about how Colindale never took more than one intern – out of principle – and how they already had one and wouldn't help her out of the pinch she was in.

Jack Morris began to doodle aimlessly on the notepad on his desk as he tried to throw in an occasional "Ah, I see" or mumble "Hm" where it seemed the appropriate thing to say. Good grief, as if it wasn't bad enough already, this woman went on and on to whine and yammer about how hard it was to be a superintendent – as if he didn't know that... After several minutes of listening (or rather: pretending to listen) to her complaints, he was ready to finish the conversation and tell her to go and jump into a lake.

Then she said something that piqued his interest, though. "This woman has lots of potential, and I would love to keep her at the station, but there's just no way I can do that. She's served for several years already and seems very capable of doing things on her own – I'm sure she could deal with stuff independently – but I'm not allowed to let her do that, as you know. I have no DI to look after her at the moment. Young can't take her under his wings because he already has so much on his plate, so…" – after that, Morris didn't really listen any more, but tried to craft a reply that would not sound too eager, but not too disinterested, either.

He didn't want her to think he was too eager because then she would go on and on about how she was doing him a favour and how he would have to return the favour some day. Sounding too disinterested wouldn't be good, either, because then… well, then he wouldn't get what he wanted.

So he tried "You know, Angela, I can relate to your difficulties - I have trouble here as well. One of my DIs has called in sick and will be gone for quite a while – broke his leg, you know. I have no idea how the others can compensate for his absence, particularly since several people will go on holidays soon. And then, there's my DCI, running amok because he sees his hopes being dashed – he's busy organising a project with Holloway, and he had hoped Harrison could take over a few tasks in that project – and now Harrison is in hospital, so it's all really difficult. People aren't overly willing to put in overtime – there's one person whose child just started school, and she insists on going home punctually so she can help him to get his homework done, another one just got married and doesn't want to put off his new wife, yet another one has a health problem and sees an acupuncturist regularly who has the weirdest hours so she cannot stay longer on particular days… my head is reeling with all the extra things and special treatment people keep asking for… I don't get anybody to step in from HR, and all my appeals remain unheard. And on top of that, I can feel another gastritis coming up."

Here, his voice broke off, indicating mild despair. He felt it was dramatic enough already and hoped she'd take the bait.

She did - and said softly and sympathetically "Oh, Jack – I'm so sorry to hear that… this must be really hard for you. You'd need someone who'd be dedicated and eager to help, but I know what it's like – they all just want things to go their way, nobody is really willing to put in an effort any more. Having said that, the intern I just mentioned is very eager to work – she says she wants to learn and take on responsibility… Of course, she's only a sergeant, but I gave her a few things to do today – as I said, Henderson is on sick leave at the moment, and I had to keep her busy somehow – and she did an excellent job. Do you think you could use someone like that? Your DCI might appreciate getting some help, and I can vouch for her – she really is very keen on being productive and helpful. She also seems to be pretty good when it comes to IT stuff – she has helped Young with a few things last week, and she also showed Parker – that's the baby of the team – a couple of tricks with some fairly new software. That was pretty impressive, so… I mean… maybe… If you think your DCI would be willing to give it a try with her, I'd send her over tomorrow, and you can see for yourself. Of course, it's nothing permanent, she'll only stay until the end of the year – basically. She'll start her new module in January, and she'll have a Christmas break, but at least you'd get some immediate relief, and by the new year, your DI will hopefully be back, and things will go back to normal…"

Jack Morris was almost laughing with delight. It had worked – and he'd kill two birds with one stone, how wonderful! First of all, he'd get a capable intern – from what Angela Tyler had said, she did sound like she had potential – and he knew that Tyler was hard to please, so… if she was convinced that this sergeant was competent, then she was. He'd have someone who'd be willing to learn the ropes and step in wherever it might become necessary on the station – as an intern you couldn't really parry off overtime – at least not permanently. And secondly, Poole would get off his back – he'd finally get someone to help him, and although he knew that his DCI would be anything but excited to have to deal with yet another intern, he would know that he'd have to shut up then… He already had the reputation of being difficult, he wouldn't want to add to that….

Feigning reluctance, he responded "Oh, Angela, that would be lovely, but what if HR finds another place for her? Or if she doesn't want to come here? I mean…"

Angela Tyler cut him off and said resolutely "No worries. I'll take care of that. HR have been absolutely useless so far, and I'll give them a piece of my mind, telling them that I've had to make efforts myself to find a place for her, and all that. You know that they won't have any objections then. And as far as Sergeant Bordey is concerned – I'm sure she'll be happy to have a place to go to. She's anxious to dig her teeth into some real work, and it seems you've got lots of that over there…"

So the two superintendents agreed that Sergeant Bordey would come to Islington on the next morning and start her internship there.

As she hung up, Angela Tyler rubbed her hands with delight. It had been a good idea to call Jack – he was so easy to manipulate! Like most men, come to think of it… Obviously, he hadn't even noticed how keen she had been to transplant her intern into his team…

Well, in all fairness, Bordey would have it good in Islington. Jack's DCI apparently was a bit weird, but he was also known to be very accurate, so the young sergeant would surely learn a great deal from him. She had promised to find her a good place – and she had been able to keep her promise. Bordey would also have the benefit of being trained with two other interns – that was always more convenient because you could compare notes.

Very pleased with herself, she dialled the number of Henderson's office where Camille was working on a file and asked her to come into her office.