DI Rob Brennan watched the back of the Chief Super’s heels as he ascended the staircase with the copy of the News he had taken from Charlie. He didn’t seem to be lifting his feet high enough, it looked like there was hardly the strength in his legs for the task as he kicked the rim of every other step and stumbled on. He made sighs and repeated outbursts of ‘Jesus Christ Almighty’ as he read the Sloans’ interview; twice he halted in his stride and smacked the newspaper off his leg. At the top landing he turned to Brennan, thinned his eyes and forced the newspaper into his hands without a word. As he strode down the corridor towards his office he seemed to have discovered a new purpose in his steps — each foot thudding like heavy artillery fire on the carpet.
Brennan clasped the paper, folded it over and turned it under his arm. As he followed the Chief Super he tried to devise a stratagem to deal with the inevitable backlash that was coming his way, but his mind seemed strangely blank. On the one hand, Brennan sympathised with the Chief Super — he didn’t want to see this kind of thing in the press either. But on the other hand, he wasn’t prepared to give Benny an excuse to attack his handling of the case. Brennan hadn’t seen this coming; he hadn’t warned the Sloans that talking to the media might hamper the investigation at this delicate juncture, but then they hadn’t been very voluble when
they appeared at the station. The idea that they would suddenly bare their souls to the press mystified the DI.
Brennan followed the Chief Super into his office, closed the door behind them. He watched as Benny removed his officer’s cap and placed it on the desk, then slapped down a pair of black leather gloves. He leaned forward, put his hands on the desk and nodded Brennan to sit. As he manoeuvred himself into the chair Brennan felt his heart rate increase with the thought of the impending attack.
Benny sighed, shook his head. ‘This really is the last straw, Rob.’
Brennan remained calm, there was nothing to be gained from sparking up or drawing down the defensive portcullis too soon. He had been in this situation before, with more brutal task masters than Benny, but he knew his position was precarious now. It had been precarious after the overtime breach, then worse after he had brought in Lorrimer, but the News revelation now made things perilous.
‘It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you, sir,’ said Brennan.
‘Oh well that’s all right then isn’t it.’ Sarcasm was a hard act to pull off thought Brennan — his wife was an expert at the dark art but Benny could do with taking a few lessons from her.
‘When I spoke to the Sloans they were hardly loquacious… I didn’t see this coming.’
The Chief Super paraded the length of his desk, turned briskly. ‘And did you warn them not to speak to the press?’ his tone was brusque.
Brennan played it straight, ‘No.’
‘ No?’ He made a show of almost choking on the word.
‘I didn’t think it was necessary.’
A loud tut. ‘Well this article,’ he pointed to the newspaper where Brennan had placed it on the edge of his desk, ‘… shows how wrong you were.’
Brennan watched as Benny’s face flushed, his neck muscles looked tense above his collar. ‘I would take the same decision again; as I said, the Sloans were deeply traumatised when I spoke to them, I never imagined for a second…’
Benny cut in, ‘That they might unburden their grief on a sympathetic journalist!’
‘Exactly. It seems out of character for them both.’
‘But not out of character for you, Rob.’
Brennan felt a pressure forming behind his eyes. ‘I’m not sure I follow your reasoning, sir.’
The Chief Super folded his hands behind his back, loomed over Brennan. ‘I mean you have hardly been on top of this investigation from the start.’
Brennan felt the urge to leap from his seat, clamp a fist round Benny’s pencil neck and squeeze till the lead popped out the roof of his head. He watched him, held his gaze firm, then released a slow trickle of words. ‘Again, sir, I’m not sure I follow your reasoning… Perhaps it would be better to have this conversation a little later on, when you’ve calmed down.’ He placed his hands on the arms of the chair, made to ease himself up.
‘Sit down, Rob!’ Benny’s eyes glowed; Brennan could see he’d pushed a button in him. When he spoke again, he was pointing at the DI with his outstretched index finger, ‘Need I remind you of your little overtime stunt, which you undertook contrary to my expressed wishes… And then there’s the matter of drawing a profiler from Strathclyde when you know full well the procedure we are operating in these straitened times is a quid pro quo with Northern… And now, this…’ He reached out for the copy of the News, raised it in the air and then slapped it down on the desk, in front of Brennan.
The DI pushed himself further back in the chair; he crossed his fingers together but remained silent. He had overextended himself with his last remark and he regretted it now. The trouble was that he was irritated by Benny, he felt the man diminished the role of Chief Superintendent with his presence. Brennan had taken orders from people he didn’t rate in the past, shiny arses, careerists, people who would have been better suited to the board of Markies, but he had never taken orders from anyone like Benny. The man was as prepossessing as a maiden aunt; he lacked the muscle for the job. When he thought of his situation, Brennan felt it was like being reprimanded by an effete children’s entertainer, the type he had watched on television with his daughter years ago. Had it come to this? Is that really what was flying up the ranks these days? Brennan found himself staring out the window, switching off to the monotonous tirade that was being lavished on him.
‘Are you listening to me, Rob?’ said the Chief Super.
Brennan drew back his gaze, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then you will understand my predicament, will you not?’
‘Predicament, sir?’
Benny exhaled a long breath, ran a thumb over the edge of the desk and removed himself to his seat. ‘DI Brennan you are presiding over an investigation which is descending into farce.’
‘I would dispute that entirely.’
‘Would you now?’
‘Certainly.’
Benny leaned back in his chair, he picked up a yellow pencil with a rubber on the end, twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. ‘That’s your opinion.’
Brennan smiled, a wide one. ‘I’d be happy to have the case, and my management of it, looked at by an independent source if you are so dissatisfied.’
The Chief Super stopped moving the pencil, seemed to stare through Brennan. He knew that Benny had no real grounds to criticise, the investigation was going as well as could realistically be expected in the circumstances; his complaints were pettifogging and if he brought in the officers’ rep he would be a laughing stock. Brennan knew also that the last thing anyone wanted in the force was to be looked at too closely; you never knew what they might turn up.
‘Is that a veiled threat, Rob?’
Brennan slackened his grin, unhooked his fingers and splayed his palms forward. ‘I don’t know what you mean… sir.’
‘I think you know exactly what I mean, but let me tell you this, Inspector… I will not be undermined in my authority, be it overtly or covertly, do I make myself clear?’
Brennan remained still.
Benny continued, ‘I have now pointed out to you three matters of a disciplinary nature that have come to my attention. You have a shaky record on this force and if there is a fourth incident you can be assured of some serious action.’
Brennan lowered his hands, placed them on his knees. ‘Serious action… By that I presume you mean you would put Jim Gallagher in charge of the murder squad.’
Benny smiled now. He leaned back in his chair and patted the trim of the desk with his fingertips. ‘I don’t need any excuse to put Jim in charge immediately.’
‘I don’t understand. This is my investigation.’
The Chief Super folded his arms, pitched himself forward. ‘No Rob, on my force, they are all my investigations.’
Brennan felt his temperature rise, the pressure behind his eyes became a slow, persistent thud that made him grip his back teeth in an effort to still the beat. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I think we need some new blood, Rob… And I think Jim could be just the man to inject that.’
Brennan felt himself drawing fists beneath the line of the desk; he stared at Benny, smirking before him, and felt an urge to rise from his chair and slap him about the head. He knew the game he was playing, his predecessor Chief Superintendent Aileen Galloway had played it too — it was called divide and rule. If Benny thought he was going to get away with that though, he was mistaken; Rob had anticipated the move, and set up a road block of his own.
‘I wouldn’t advise that, sir.’
Benny laughed, ‘Oh really, Rob.’
Brennan rose, started to button up his jacket. ‘You see, I’ve called a press conference for tomorrow. I’ve got the Sloans appearing centre stage — alongside myself, as investigating officer — and we’re going to make a televised plea. Now, I’m no expert on the media, sir, but if you were to shuffle the deck right now I’d say there’d be a few hacks asking why it was Jim and not me fronting that up.’
The Chief Super’s face stilled, for a moment his jowls hung grey and limp, and then he shook himself back to life. ‘Why wasn’t I informed of this?’
Brennan turned for the door, ‘You just were, sir.’