Andrews still had a faced like a slapped arse.
‘So, what did you say to Saunders?’ Fuller asked.
Andrews sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. ‘He did all the talking.’
This was disappointing. Fuller had hoped Andrews would have been spilling the beans on Resnick’s lunatic moment with Fat Fran.
‘Resnick gave me a lousy work report,’ Andrews continued. ‘And Saunders said I’d failed to make the grade, so I’m back on division and routine crime as of next month. I can’t believe it! I’ve always worked as hard as anyone else, done as I was told and never let Resnick down.’
Fuller suspected Andrews was for the chop; he felt sorry for him and said as much, but the fact was that, although he was a nice bloke, armed robbery investigations were out of his league. Working on division, investigating thefts and criminal damage would be more his forte. ‘Don’t worry. This job’s a roller coaster,’ Fuller said as he walked away. Then he whispered to himself: ‘I’m on my way up and you’re on your way down.’
When the explosion went off in Saunders’s office, the whole annex heard the boom of Resnick’s voice as he shouted at the top of his voice. All eyes looked over to the DCI’s office, where Resnick could be seen through the glass partition, red-faced with anger and thumping his fist on Saunders’s desk. Turning his head, Resnick saw Fuller, Andrews and others looking at him. He flung open the DCI’s office door and stepped into the corridor.
‘You all havin’ a bloody good gander and gettin’ an earful, are you? WELL, ARE YOU?’
Everyone in the annex suddenly pretended to be busy: there was a general rushing about and gathering up of papers, the typists typing frantically and officers picking up phones to make suddenly urgent calls. Except Fuller — Fuller stared Resnick down square for at least five seconds before looking away.
‘You know what?’ Andrews said, as he watched Fuller gloating. ‘You’re a bigger bastard than he is. He doesn’t make a conscious decision to be a shit; you do.’
Back in Saunders’s office, Resnick stood with both fists on the DCI’s desk as he leaned forward and glared at him. Saunders looked down at his memo pad and tapped it with the point of his sharpened pencil.
‘I withdrew the phone tap on the Rawlins woman when I found out about it a few days ago. For one, you had not sought mine or any other senior officer’s approval, which means it was illegal, not to mention the cost of having an officer monitor and write down the number of all the calls in and out, day and night. And I withdrew the surveillance for pretty much the same reason. I couldn’t justify two officers sitting outside the Rawlins house with Boxer Davis’s killer on the loose.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you pulled the tap?’ Resnick said, trying to regain his composure. ‘It could have been Dolly Rawlins that phoned Boxer Davis and who grassed up Carlos Moreno. It was a woman, sir. A woman who called to speak to Boxer Davis twice on the night he died. You should have told me.’
Saunders sat back in disbelief. ‘I should have told you? George — have you any idea how many times I have gone looking for you, only to find you were out God knows where? I left a copy of this memo on your desk. If you failed to read it that’s not my problem.’
‘I’m so close, sir.’
‘Close to what, exactly?’ Saunders asked.
Resnick sucked in his breath, trying to keep control of his temper. He’d already blown his top once; he knew he could only go so far with Saunders before he bit back. They’d been friends for so long...
Saunders placed the pencil down, leaned forward and stuck the knife in. ‘The Rawlins case is closed, George. You and your men are to assist on the Mayfair robbery. They have a few good leads and need more troops.’
‘Oh, no, no, no, please, just two more weeks. I’ll have something within two weeks.’ Resnick pleaded, sharing everything he had with his old friend. ‘We know there was a fourth man and I’m this close to finding him. When I do, I solve four cases in one go. He’s connected to them all, I know he is. Rawlins is connected to them all. It stands to reason that the fourth man is as well.’
‘Who do you think it is?’ Saunders inquired.
‘I’m close. Give me time. A little more time, that’s all. The fourth man and this woman who’s been calling people... they’re the key.’
‘I thought Fran was the key? Last week, Boxer Davis was the key. The week before, Len Gulliver was the key.’ Saunders shook his head. He’d heard enough; he wasn’t going to back down. ‘I’m acting on orders that come from higher up, George. Your case is closed.’
‘You’re giving up on me!’ Resnick snapped.
Saunders snapped his pencil in two. He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘How dare you? How bloody dare you? You were given the Rawlins case on my recommendation. Not one senior officer bar me thought you were up to it, but I fought your corner and got you the case. The case you’ve wanted to close for your entire career. But all you’ve found, George, are dead ends. No useful leads or evidence. My hands are tied.’
Resnick bowed his head in a mixture of shame and despair; he knew the system well enough to understand where Saunders was coming from, but he still hated it.
‘I know what that bastard Harry Rawlins did to you,’ Saunders continued, ‘but now you’re carrying a personal grievance too far. Give it up George and move on for your—’
Resnick interrupted him. ‘What personal grievance?’
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
Resnick leaned over the desk and slammed his fist down again. ‘The man’s a bloody villain and—’
‘The man’s dead!’ Saunders shouted, shocking Resnick into silence. ‘Andrews told me what happened with Fran. He told me about the photograph of Harry Rawlins. You were wrong, because she admitted it was Tony Fisher who assaulted her. I hate to say it, George, but you’re becoming obsessed and need to face facts — Rawlins is dead and buried.’
Resnick opened his mouth, but Saunders held up his hand to stop him. ‘If you don’t want to move to the Mayfair robbery, might I suggest you take time off? The Chief Superintendent will approve your leave.’
Resnick stared at Saunders. ‘Sounds as if you know that for sure. You’ve already asked him, haven’t you?’ He held Saunders’s gaze. ‘I expect he’s already approved my transfer if I want that as well, has he?’
‘He approved your transfer months ago, George. I’ve been fighting to keep you here, on the case you want, doing the job I know you were excellent at.’
‘Were?’ This single word from Saunders cut like a knife. ‘Then I expect it’s pointless me asking if the Super’s read my application for promotion?’
Saunders chose to ignore Resnick’s last question. He waffled on about what a good officer George was and how he was sure this time he would get the promotion, perhaps to a quieter station where he could serve out his time. He said he knew that, by rights, George should be sitting where he was.
‘Then why aren’t I?’ Resnick snapped.
‘Because of the bloody Rawlins case, George! This personal—’
‘It’s not personal! He’s just a villain.’
‘A dead villain,’ Saunders said, hammering this home one more time.
‘Dead or not, he’s responsible for dozens of unsolved robberies and I’m this close to solving all of them,’ Resnick repeated. But he’d heard enough. He hated being patronized. He stood up and stabbed his finger at Saunders. ‘You are too right, sonny. I should have been sitting where you are long ago. You, me and everyone in this bloody place knows I’m not because of Harry Rawlins. It was personal, you’re right — how could it not be? But it’s not anymore. Now, it’s about good solid police work. I want his ledgers, I want the fourth man and I want the woman on the phone. Because that’s how we clean up London! And, just so you know, sir, people with their ear to the ground, people in the know, don’t think Rawlins is dead at all.’