Ashworth nodded.
‘And yet, after only four months in your swanky new job, you are returning to your old job. A job which, if your application for the Hampshire posting is to be believed, you felt you had mastered and were bored with.’
‘We all say stuff like that in job interviews.’ He remained staring at his shoes.
‘What happened?’
A long silence. Then:
‘I had a change of heart. I hadn’t really settled in Southampton, didn’t have any friends to speak of and then… when the lads started to cut me out because I wasn’t a union stooge, I thought I’m better off out of it.’
‘Except you put in your transfer request before the other lads found out about your betrayal of the cause. The others were very clear about this. It was at a departmental piss-up in the Lamb and Flag on the eighteenth that you were forced to admit that you’d broken the strike. You applied to return to your old job on the sixteenth.’
‘They must be mistaken…’
‘There were several witnesses to the conversation in the pub. They can’t all be lying.’
A longer silence.
‘The truth is… The truth is that I just don’t like it here. I don’t like the people, I don’t like the job. I want out.’
‘That’s curious, Simon. Because at your three-month appraisal, you’d said how happy you were. How you were loving the increased responsibility. And you got top marks for your work, even the hint that you’d be fitted for promotion if you kept it up for a year or more. I’ve got a copy of your appraisal here if you’d like to read it.’
Helen offered it to him, but Ashworth said nothing. The guy looked deeply, deeply miserable. Which made Helen happy. The cracks were beginning to show. She decided to put the boot in.
‘You’ve done the police training, Simon, so I’m not going to patronize you by spelling out what the effects could be for your career if you’re forced to admit to lying to a police officer who’s pursuing a murder investigation. If you’re forced to admit taking payment to leak confidential police material.’
Ashworth sat stock still, but his hands were shaking.
‘Your career would be over. Finished. And I know how important it is to you.’
Helen softened her tone now.
‘I know you’re a gifted guy, Simon. I know you could go places. But if you lie to me now, I will destroy you. There’ll be no way back.’
Ashworth’s shoulders hunched and began to shake. Was he crying?
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I need to know the truth. Did you leak the interview to Mickery? And if so, why? I can only help you if you help me.’
A long pause, then:
‘I thought you knew.’
His voice was strangulated, cracked.
‘He told me you knew.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Whittaker.’
Whittaker. The word hung in the air, but Helen still didn’t quite believe it.
‘What did he tell you? What should I have known?’
Ashworth shook his head, but Helen wasn’t about to let this go.
‘Tell me. Tell me now or I will arrest you for conspiracy to pervert -’
‘Whittaker downloaded the interview.’
‘But he was on leave that day.’
‘I saw him. I went into the office. Because of the strike there was no one about. But Whittaker was there. By himself. He said he’d been going over the case material and when I looked later he’d downloaded the interview. I didn’t think anything of it. He’s in charge, so why not? But when I found out later that you were asking for people’s movements, I realized that Whittaker had made a mistake. Got his days mixed up. I went to see him. I didn’t want him to cop any flak for a simple mistake.’
‘You were currying favour.’
‘Sort of. Whittaker liked me, saw a future for me. So I just mentioned it – better safe than sorry, you know. Well he didn’t like it. Not at all. Said I was mistaken, but I knew I wasn’t.’
He paused, scared of saying any more.
‘Go on. What happened next?’
‘He said he could destroy my career with one phone call. That I didn’t understand what I was getting involved with. We… he decided there and then that I was to be transferred back to London as soon as possible. I guess it was him that let the cat out of the bag about the strike. As a reason for my departure. He told me that you knew all this. That it was your idea.’
Anger flared in Helen, then she reined it back in sharply. She must keep calm, keep focused. Was this all for real?
‘He said I was involved?’
‘Yes, that you were handling it, so there was no point saying anything to you.’
‘What did you do next?’
‘I tried to carry on but I couldn’t keep it going, not with the lads on my back as well. So I signed off sick. Been hiding out here ever since, biding my time until my transfer…’
He tailed off as the reality of his situation hit him. For the first time that day, Helen was conciliatory.
‘This doesn’t have to end badly, Simon. If what you’ve told me today is true, then I can make this right for you. You can take the transfer, learn your lesson and start over again without a blemish on your record. You can do the things you were meant to do, achieve what you want to achieve.’
Ashworth looked up, disbelief jostling with hope.
‘But I need you to do one thing for me in return. You are going to come to my flat now. And when you get there you are going to write a statement, putting down everything you’ve just told me. Then you are going to wait. You are not going to answer your phone, or make any calls. You’re not going to mail, text or tweet. You are going to sit still and quiet and the rest of the world need never know we’ve spoken, until I say the time is right. Is that understood?’
Ashworth nodded. He would do anything she told him now.
‘Good. Then let’s go.’
76
There was no backing out now. The deal had been struck. Like it or not, it was time to follow through.
When Mickery had opened her left hand, knowing full well it was empty, Sandy had collapsed to the ground moaning. Mickery had watched, her emotions in riot. Part exhilaration, part horror, but overall… relief. She would live.
Shortly afterwards Sandy started to beg. He said he hadn’t been serious, that it was crazy, that they had to stick together, they shouldn’t let her win.
‘What would you have done if you’d won? Would you have spared me?’ was Mickery’s retort. Sandy couldn’t answer – which spoke volumes. He would have pulled the trigger and saved himself. He was a selfish little shit at heart.
‘Please, Hannah. I have a wife. I have two daughters. You know them, you’ve met them. Please don’t do this to them.’
‘We don’t have a choice, Sandy.’
‘Course we do. We always have a choice.’
‘To starve to death? Is that what you want?’
‘Maybe we can get out. Force the door…’
‘For the love of God, Sandy, don’t make this worse than it already is. There is no way out. There is no escape. This is it. There is no other way.’
At which point, he’d started to blub. But Mickery felt no pity now. If Sandy had won, she would have been dead by now, no doubt about it. Suddenly hatred rose up inside her – how dare he beg for mercy that he wouldn’t have rendered – and as he clawed at her, she pushed him sharply away. He tripped and fell, landing heavily on the dirty metal floor.
‘I’m begging you, Hannah, please don’t do this…’
But Mickery had already picked up the gun. She had never fired one before, never thought of hurting anyone, but she was cool and collected now as she prepared to execute someone she had once called a friend.
‘I’m so sorry, Sandy.’
And with that she pulled the trigger.