IT WAS the middle of the afternoon when Darian started to walk back to the office. The only things going in and out of the two warehouse buildings were the employees, only a handful and all of them Murdoch’s. They’d had a shipment the day before, and Darian was sure they had another two on Monday, but it was always small drips of the tide of goods that washed into Challaid. There was a persuasive economic argument that they should sell the warehouses to Glendan and move up to Whisper Hill. It would be easier and cheaper for them to do business in the bigger docks and without a major property developer poking them in the side every day, but their bloody-mindedness was amusing.
When he turned the corner onto Cage Street, Darian saw the man standing just outside the door to The Northern Song, eating one of Mr. Yang’s spring rolls. Darian had never met the man in the suit and wannabe smart coat, but he recognized what he was from a distance and who he was when he got closer. DC Alasdair MacDuff, a young detective working in the anti-corruption unit at Cnocaid station, and where he went you could be certain DI Folan Corey was a few steps further ahead.
It should tell you all you need to know about our city’s commitment to tackling corruption that the unit dedicated to the task had only a dozen or so officers and was led by a detective inspector instead of someone more senior, a man allowed to run the unit in whatever way pleased him and the people of influence in Challaid. There had been a time, back in the late nineties, after the Three O’clock killings, when the force made a very public effort to clean up its act, but that was a long time ago, and old habits had returned.
Darian didn’t acknowledge DC MacDuff, a tall and plain man, light hair cut short and small features. He seemed awfully hungry, leaning against the wall by the restaurant doorway. He was waiting for someone. Darian went in the side door and ran up the stairs, stepping into the office to find Sholto behind his desk looking red-faced and angry, a man in his forties sitting across from him with wavy dark hair, beady eyes and an easy grin. The guest was DI Corey, now and always in control of his conversations.
He looked at Darian and said, “Ah, you must be the young Ross, I can see the resemblance. I knew your father. He seemed like such a good man. It’s actually you I’m here about.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
The dirty look Sholto gave Darian was the opposite of encouraging.
DI Corey, legs crossed, hands in lap looking comfortable, said, “You were involved in the arrest of Ash Lucas, I’m led to believe, which is strange given that you’re the employee of a research company.”
The mocking tone of the last two words made Sholto visibly wince; he wanted no part of anything in the world that would blow his thin cover. He was an ex-detective who could be convicted of running an illegal business, and was now faced with the sort of former colleague who would take cruel pleasure in making that happen.
“I was asked to find out about his finances, for that I had to find out where he lived. I just happened to be at the same party as him, ended up outside the flat and heard the girl scream.”
DI Corey’s attitude blunted every clever thing he had to say. If your intelligence lives behind a sneer it’s unlikely to be quite as sharp as you think. He smiled happily and said, “All just a big happy fluke, huh?”
“Good luck and good timing.”
“Odd thing, though, that you wouldn’t be able to find his address without following him home. I’d have expected better of you. I mean, what the hell sort of research is that? We’re getting very close here, dangerously close, I think, to straying into police business, and I’m sure neither of you would want that to happen.”
Sholto said quickly, “Of course not, course not; we go out of our way to avoid anything that might interfere in an active case. I know how it works, Folan, don’t worry, I know.”
“You know, but does your boy here?”
“He knows.”
Darian stood uncomfortably beside his desk. He was being talked about rather than to, mockingly by Corey and angrily by Sholto, and that raised his hackles. He should have said nothing but instead he said, “I’m surprised you have any interest in Lucas, Detective. Last I saw of him he was at Dockside, being well looked after. I’m not sure I see how a rapist fits into the anti-corruption unit’s remit.”
Sholto’s eyes were wide now, and he was sitting bolt upright. Terror was the one workout his posture ever got.
DI Corey remained impassive when he said, “There are a lot of things about my department, about policing and about this city, that you do not understand. I know you want to hate me because I’m a detective, and we were the ones who put your father away, which means we absolutely must be the bad guys. All of us, all the time. It’s going to come as a grievous shock to you when you realize that even those of us who aren’t terribly pleasant are still trying to do a good job for the right reasons. Some people have a lot more value than you realize.”
“People like Lucas?”
“Even the worst people have the ability to do good. You’re young, you’re idealistic, you’re ignorant, and because of that you made a mistake. I’m a forgiving man, but I expect a higher level of professionalism from this office in the future or we might have to ask some questions about whether your behavior on the street matches the description on your registration sheet. No more mistakes.”
Darian said, “I’ll learn.”
“Too late for learning, boy, you learn before you leap. You jumped into the Lucas situation because you thought you knew it all, thought you were doing what us dimwitted policemen and women couldn’t, and now Lucas is back out on the streets. He won’t go to trial, and the only way he ever will is when a police officer, a senior police officer, gets involved. Someone like me.”
“Someone like you.”
“Yes, and not someone like you.”
“What’s wrong with someone like me?”
“Apart from the fact you’re not a cop and never will be? You’re an idealist. A hero. The savior of the downtrodden, bringing justice to all those in peril. You go chasing after bad guys and to hell with the rest of it, right? You give your life to being something noble. That’s fine, I’m not mocking it, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be someone’s hero, we’re all arrogant enough to want that at some point. Thing is, this city doesn’t need people to be heroes, it just needs them to use an ounce of common sense now and then. Real police work is about something less gallant. It’s about doing the dirty grind that people think you should be doing anyway, about doing work nobody ever finds out about so they curse your laziness because they’re ignorant of your efforts. It’s about keeping your head down and your mouth shut when ignoramuses shoulder-charge their way into your business and spoil years of effort. It’s no place for heroes.”
“I’m not trying to be a hero.”
“You are, and you’ll keep on trying, I know you will. It’s written all over your righteously offended face. But you will learn, just like Sholto here learned, back in the days when he used to spend his life hiding in an office at the station instead of hiding in this one. You’ll become like him, looking to get through another day without tripping up, praying for no fuss, no challenge. Your ambition will shrink to fit your talent and position, and when people come here looking for your help, for you to be their savior after exhausting every other option, you’ll pretend you’re not home. You’ll learn, all right. I do not expect to bump into you again.”
Without looking at either of them he walked across the office and out, down the stairs where his acolyte MacDuff was waiting for him. Darian looked at Sholto and Sholto looked like he wanted to sprint down the stairs after his former colleague and boot him up the arse, but he didn’t have the courage or agility. Instead he looked furiously at a spot on his pile of papers until he calmed down enough to talk, although it still came out as a voice raised high.
“You went chasing after Lucas when I said not to, when I told you to stay away from him.”
“He was attacking a schoolgirl with a knife, and Corey’s let him go.”
Sholto was a decent man, so he hated that he was shouting at Darian instead of DI Corey, but his voice would never have the strength to attack the cop. He said, “Don’t you understand what this could mean, going up against a man like Folan Corey? I’m not saying you crapped the bed here, but there is an awful lot of crap all over the bed you were using. He is dangerous. Every cop can be dangerous to us, but him a hundred times more than the rest because he’d enjoy it.”
“I didn’t know he had a connection with Lucas, and I still don’t understand what the connection is. How can you be relaxed about him letting Lucas out when you heard what Lucas has done before?”
“I’m not relaxed, don’t say I’m relaxed, do I look relaxed? Never been less relaxed in my life. I’m at best a heartbeat and a half ahead of a coronary right now. I know what Lucas did, and he should be locked up for it, but he must be valuable to Corey. Him, Corey, he’s the sort that has a thousand dodgy contacts up his sleeve, anyone he needs help from falls on the floor as soon as he shakes an arm. That’s why I could never make it and people like him always can. He’ll have Lucas on the rack now, willing to do anything for him.”
“That’s not…”
“I know it’s not right, you don’t have to tell me, but it’s how it works round here. This city, it’s always been the same, always about the least worst people getting out on top. Just promise me, Darian, promise me you’ll stay clear of Corey from now on, and from Lucas. Corey’s good at what he does, and what he does isn’t for you and me.”
He paused and didn’t say anything.
“Darian.”
“Fine, I promise you.”