Lock replaced the handset. What Stafford had read as a scare tactic on Lock’s part was far from it. Lock had put down the phone not because he’d scared Stafford enough but because Stafford was right. A call to the police would change nothing.
He removed his Sig and levelled it at Stafford’s bloodied face. The movement was relaxed to the point of casual. ‘You like guns?’
Stafford’s face was white with shock now. ‘I was in the ROTC at college,’ he stammered.
‘Remember the first thing your firearms instructor told you? The cardinal rule?’
Stafford swallowed. ‘Never point a gun at someone unless you intend to shoot them.’
‘Very good. Ten out of ten. Now, outside.’ Lock waved Stafford over to the door.
There are lots of ways a man might think he’ll react when a gun is pointed at him. In combat, Lock had known blowhards lose control of their bladders, and cowards find a relative calm in which they could fight back. But the first surge of emotion is the same for everyone. Fear.
Stafford walked meekly to the door. In the corridor, Lock holstered his gun but made sure that Stafford was ahead of him and didn’t look back. Behind them, Hizzard stood sentry outside the ladies’ washroom.
Lock guided Stafford to the elevator. Confirmation that they were being watched came in the form of a voice from the control room in Lock’s ear.
‘We’re fine. Just taking a little night air,’ Lock replied.
They got out on the top floor. From here they could access the roof. Lock punched in a key code and pushed Stafford through the door with a shove.
Outside it was dark. High forties at best. A sensor light snapped on, throwing both men’s shadows to the very edge of the roof.
The walk appeared to have given Stafford the opportunity to compose himself a little. ‘So what now? You gonna shoot me?’ he asked.
‘No,’ replied Lock, ‘you’re going to jump.’
‘What? Are you crazy? You walking me up here is all on disk.’
‘You mean the hard drives that are gonna be accidentally wiped on my command about the same time as you’re hitting the sidewalk?’
‘What about the girl?’
‘You think she’s going to say anything after what you did?’
‘There’s no way you could explain this away.’
‘I was ten years in the Royal Military Police. You seriously think I couldn’t cover my bases?’
Keeping his gun trained on Stafford, Lock paced across to the edge of the roof. ‘I catch you trying to rape a junior member of your staff. I pull you off her. All that’ll be corroborated, right?’
Stafford didn’t answer.
‘There’s no cameras up here, no one to know you’ve admitted to anything,’ Lock continued, moving his gun up a fraction so it was pointing directly at Stafford’s face.
Stafford put his hands up. ‘OK, so I accept that she’d support that version of events. What difference does that make?’
‘Well, I have a duty to report you. You beg me to reconsider. You have an offer for me. We take it up on the roof, where no one can overhear us. All that’s on tape is two guys taking a walk up here. We get up here, under the stars, nice and cosy, you make your offer. But I won’t accept it. In fact I’m going to mention it when the case comes to court. My saying you offered to bribe me makes her story a whole lot more convincing, wouldn’t you say?’
Lock had circled round, so he was facing Stafford and Stafford had his back to the edge. As Lock had been talking he’d advanced on him. Just enough to crowd his personal space. Stafford had instinctively inched back, unaware that he was even doing it. He was maybe six feet from the void now.
‘You’re distraught. Sobbing. Not making any sense. Because you know what happens to rapists in prison. Especially handsome young ones like yourself. You’ll be catching instead of pitching. Plus the shame to your family. So’ — Lock wrapped his finger round the trigger of his Sig — ‘you jump.’
‘No one’ll believe that,’ Stafford said, taking a step back.
‘Oh, some people won’t. It’s a hell of a story, isn’t it? But in a court of law it’ll boil down to my word against yours. And you won’t be doing any talking.’
Stafford glanced over his shoulder. Startled by how close he was to the edge, he took a step forward, but Lock waggled the gun. ‘Wrong direction.’
‘I won’t do it. I’m not going to jump.’
‘Then I’ll throw you. It won’t be the first time I’ve done it.’
Lock holstered the Sig and punched Stafford hard in the solar plexus. As he went down, winded, Lock kicked him in the groin, then in the face. ‘No one’s going to notice a little extra trauma on the body of a jumper,’ he remarked, grabbing the back of Stafford’s jacket and shirt and hauling him to the edge.
‘Help me! Someone!’ Stafford screamed.
‘We’re on our own, Stafford. Not even Daddy can rescue you now.’
There was a concrete lip at the very edge of the roof. Lock pulled Stafford up on to it.
‘Please. Please, don’t do this!’ Stafford begged.
‘Why shouldn’t I? Give me one good reason.’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘You don’t want to die, do you?’
Stafford shook his head, tears streaming down his face. ‘No, I don’t.’
Lock stood back, the gun still on him. ‘OK, so here’s what you’re gonna do.’
Lock briefly outlined Stafford’s obligations and what would happen to him if they weren’t fulfilled. Then he retreated back inside the stairwell, leaving Stafford alone on the roof for the night to think about what he’d done.
A few days later the intern had contacted Lock to thank him. A day after the attack a certified cheque in the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars had arrived in the mail at her apartment. Along with a legal agreement that she would take no further action.
Lock knew that it was a cheap way out for Stafford and he felt bad about that. But he also knew what the conviction rate was in sexual assault cases.
Once again, justice hadn’t come into it.
Twenty-two
‘I want Ty to work the recovery with me.’ Lock phrased it as a statement rather than a question. It was quicker that way, and they’d already wasted thirty minutes on bullshit that had zero to do with the safe recovery of Josh Hulme and everything to do with Meditech’s share price and Stafford’s ego.
‘Agreed,’ said Nicholas. ‘What else do you need?’
‘We’ll need someone to liaise with the JTTF.’
‘Wouldn’t you be the best person to do that?’ Nicholas asked.
‘I’m gonna have my hands full. Plus, my being involved hasn’t been a popular move with them.’
‘OK, what else?’
‘We’ll need a team of people to sort through all our previous threat assessments. Particularly those relating to Richard Hulme.’
‘Already done,’ Stafford piped up. ‘And I’ve had a briefing go out to all employees warning them to be vigilant and report anything suspicious to local authorities and our security personnel.’
Maybe Stafford’s midnight sojourn on the roof with him had finally knocked some sense into him, Lock thought.
‘So who’s to hold the fort here while you’re out playing detective?’ asked Brand.
‘By the looks of it, I thought you’d already stepped into the breach,’ Lock fired back.
‘Well, someone had to.’
Nicholas Van Straten rifled his papers, signalling the end of the meeting. ‘That’s everything settled, then.’
Ty and Lock rode back down together in the elevator.
‘You sure about leaving this place to Brand?’ Ty asked.
‘Nope.’
‘Me either. You know, I don’t have the kind of investigation experience you do.’