Did she detect the slightest of nods from the boy in response? Perhaps. She wanted to believe so, but it was impossible to be sure. One thing seemed certain; she wasn’t going to get anything useful out of him tonight. All that she could really hope for was that Ian Williamson might, somehow, be better able to function after a good night’s sleep.
‘Okay. . good.’ Stepping over to the door, she hit it twice with the side of her fist and called for the guard. ‘Do try and get some rest. We will talk again tomorrow.’
Out in the corridor, the lawyer stifled a yawn as she watched the duty sergeant lock the thick steel door behind her using a large, gap-toothed key that looked like it belonged in a museum. The sergeant was a slothful oaf by the name of Elliot. Millicent was convinced he should have been pensioned off years ago. Dropping the key into his trouser pocket, he looked at her warily under the harsh strip lighting.
‘That was a long meeting,’ he grumbled.
‘Am I keeping you from your dinner?’ Olyphant snapped.
He gave her a sweaty shrug. ‘Just sayin’, love.’
Don’t ‘love’ me. She gestured towards the locked door. ‘You need to keep a very close eye on him,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘Mr Williamson is under great strain. He really should be receiving medical attention.’
He raped and killed an old woman — fuck him. Pushing past the lawyer, Elliot began making his way down the corridor. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said, making no effort to keep the scorn from his voice, ‘we’ll make sure that your Mr Williamson is properly looked after while he’s in here.’
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Sitting up in bed, Dom gave his balls a vigorous scratch as he watched the naked girl sashay over to the ghetto blaster sitting on the bedroom floor by the far wall. Bending over, she flipped open the tape deck, turned over the cassette and hit play. After a few clicks and some hiss, Ultravox’s ‘Mr X’ kicked in. Dom smiled. He wasn’t a great fan of Midge Ure; Samantha Hudson, however, was another matter entirely. Closing his eyes, he let the image of her perfect arse burn itself onto his retinas. It was something that he would never forget as long as he lived.
‘Got another joint?’ she asked, straightening up.
‘Sure.’ Opening his eyes, Dom gestured towards the clothes strewn across the floor. ‘In the breast pocket of my jacket. Under the jeans. Help yourself.’
‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ Discarding his genitals, Dom leant out of the bed to grab a newspaper lying on the floor.
Retrieving the joint, Sam picked a disposable lighter off the bedside table and fired it up. Taking a deep drag, she gave him an indulgent smile before blowing the smoke across the bed. ‘Want some?’
‘Nah,’ Dom shook his head. ‘I’ve had enough for one night,’ he yawned. ‘Anyway, I’m on duty in the morning.’
‘Mm,’ Sam grinned, taking another puff, ‘you really are a strange copper, aren’t you?’
‘Not really. .’ Dom began flicking through the paper. ‘Socialist Worker,’ he snorted. ‘Time to bring down the corrupt capitalist system. . General Strike now!’ Tossing the paper back on the floor, he flopped back on the bed. ‘You actually read this kind of stuff?’
Turning to face him, Sam put her hands on her hips and pouted. ‘This is a strike of the rank and file,’ she parroted through the haze. ‘The workers are taking action into their own hands — hit squads, scab watches, community support. . food kitchens, the whole lot.’ The accent was pure Bedales, with a dash of St Trin-ian’s thrown in for good measure. The girl was a trust-fund revolutionary, no doubt: a little wannabe taking a walk on the wild side. Dom started to laugh, then thought better of it. ‘We need to mobilize mass support for their action.’
Dom held up a hand. ‘Okay, okay. But for all that, you obviously don’t mind sleeping with the enemy.’
Grinning, she crawled back onto the bed. ‘I don’t think of it as sleeping with the enemy,’ she purred, slipping a hand under the covers.
‘No?’ He felt himself stiffen slightly.
‘No,’ she smiled. ‘You’re a worker, aren’t you?’
‘I suppose so,’ he gasped.
‘There you go.’ Her grin grew wider as she ran a thumbnail slowly along his shaft. ‘I see this less as sleeping with the enemy and more as building a broad-based alliance. . one man at a time.’
TWELVE
The door flew open with a bang. ‘Rise and shine you silly sod; it’s time to get up.’
‘I was awake.’ Rolling smartly off the bed, Carlyle got to his feet.
Stepping inside the cell, Charlie Ross handed the young constable a small metal mug, two-thirds filled with steaming black coffee.
‘Thanks.’
The sergeant inspected the mess that was his face and grunted. ‘What happened to the other guy?’
‘No idea,’ Carlyle replied, omitting to mention that he hadn’t managed to lay a finger on his attacker. He took a cautious sip of the coffee. It tasted disgusting but at least it was hot. Under the circumstances, that was more than good enough. ‘The bastard crept up behind me and smashed me in the face with a beer bottle.’
The look on Ross’s face may have been an expression of sympathy or of disgust; it was impossible to tell.
‘And then I got arrested!’ Carlyle whined. ‘Some stupid plod nicked me while I was bloody unconscious!’
‘Fucking idiot,’ the sergeant growled. ‘You’re lucky that Inspector Holt found out you were in here. Otherwise, you could have been up in front of the beak this morning before I’d even heard about it. That would have been your police career over before it had even started.’
‘Mm.’ Savouring his wretched coffee, Carlyle felt strangely ambivalent at the thought of a return to civilian life in double-quick time.
Frowning, Ross gazed at the dirty grey light struggling to make it through the cell window. ‘I don’t suppose you know where your partner in crime Mr Silver might be?’
Carlyle stared at his stockinged feet. ‘No.’
Ross gave him a hard stare. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ Carlyle nodded, ‘dead sure.’
Charlie Ross took a half-step forward, like he was preparing to give the youngster a sharp clip round the ear. ‘Don’t fuck with me, laddie,’ he growled.
‘Honestly.’ Finding his Adidas Rod Lavers under the bed, Carlyle sat down, placed the coffee cup carefully on the floor and slipped them on. ‘He disappeared somewhere. I got ambushed by that wanker when I went looking for him.’
‘It looks like it was quite a mismatch,’ Ross chuckled.
‘He surprised me,’ Carlyle protested.
‘You’re a policeman, apparently,’ Ross observed loftily. ‘The idea is that you’re always too alert to let people sneak up on you. Even when you’re off duty. Especially when you’re off duty.’
‘What about the bloke that hit me?’ Carlyle asked, relieved that at least the sergeant didn’t seem that bothered about the fact that Dom and he had been AWOL at the time. ‘Did he get nicked too?’
‘Nope.’ Ross shook his head. ‘He was clearly far too clever to get caught. . unlike you.’
‘Ha!’
‘You’d better hope that you don’t bump into him again.’ Ross turned towards the door. ‘Finish your coffee. We need to get out of here. It might surprise you to know that I’ve got better things to do than babysit you all day.’
‘Yes, sergeant,’ Carlyle said meekly. Getting back to his feet, he watched as the fat duty sergeant from the night before slipped past the open door. A few moments later came the familiar sound of a key in a lock. He turned to face Ross. ‘Thanks for coming to bail me out, sergeant. I really appreciate it.’
‘Okay,’ Ross replied, seeming almost embarrassed by the expression of gratitude. ‘C’mon. Let’s go and see if we can find your mate.’
‘Okay.’ Stepping towards the door, Carlyle was stopped in his tracks by a piercing shriek.
What the-
Almost immediately, his thoughts were drowned out by the sound of an alarm going off.