Davina Steel sat on a small couch in a crowded vestibule outside the prime minister’s office, the office that Georgia was temporarily working from. Georgia was inside with Jack Early, Major Darling, Burnlee, Edwina Wells, and several of the top COBRA people. They were discussing the investigation, but in actuality they were discussing Steel. Should she be taken off the case and put onto something else?
Steel’s outburst outside of Heaton Global had caused a major rethink up and down the chain. Could something of this importance be spearheaded by someone as emotionally volatile and obviously immature as Steel? That was the question in play as Steel sat outside on the couch, punching away on her laptop, awaiting news if she’d be pried from the case, pulled away from her unique proximity to Georgia. Maybe that would be best, she thought. Being around her had become so fraught with emotion.
Inside, at Lassiter’s desk, Georgia struggled to think clearly. She was exhausted. It was early. She hadn’t slept once again the night before. Yesterday had been a long slog with the press demanding to know what Lassiter’s future held. Would he be back? What would the party do in a reshuffle? Would it be Georgia? Munroe had wedged in a grueling series of one-on-ones with the top papers’ editors, and most of them couldn’t have been bothered to be civil.
The chancellor was scheduled to do a quick trip to Strasbourg to meet with top European ministers to discuss how to slow down the momentum regarding the upcoming referendum on Europe. The referendum would almost surely lead to Britain pulling from the union once and for all. Part of Georgia would have been overjoyed to let the referendum happen, just get on with it—to take it to the voters to decide. It was the only major issue she and Roland disagreed on. There was also a new inheritance tax cut bill looming that needed Treasury’s guidance, another foray into a political minefield that would come back to haunt Georgia if she did in fact take over as prime minister. All in all, the entire load was more than she could have foreseen. It was a short walk from Number 11 to Number 10, but it felt more like crossing into an entirely different dimension.
On top of Georgia’s exhaustion and her overbooked schedule was the utterly powerful pull of the pain pills. She was down to her last few. She had tried to wean herself but had only become more irritable, less able to sleep. In her vulnerable state, she was nagged by thoughts of this young inspector. Maybe it would be better, she wondered, if she let these people talk Major Darling into benching Steel. Maybe it was too much for Georgia to process. There was nothing all that comfortable about the feelings she had for Steel. It had been years since she felt this way about a woman, not since university; Steel’s obvious reciprocal passion only made the situation more difficult to bear.
Representatives from COBRA and DPG, along with the director of Special Branch, all implored Georgia and Burnlee to remove Steel at once.
“She’s crossed every line there is to cross.”
“Bringing Heaton into it is absurd—acting that way to a former minister.”
“Threatening those two men with a gun? Whether or not she should be brought up on charges is what we should be discussing here, not keeping her on.”
“This American, Tatum, is who we should be focused on finding, not harassing Heaton and his people. Heaton is just as concerned about this as we are. His barrister is Lord Winkle, and he’s preparing to make a formal complaint. This young girl is trouble. She needs to be taken off.”
In spite of these arguments, both Edwina Wells and Darling still thought that Steel was the right staffer. They agreed that she had gone too far but felt certain they could rein her in. They promised to give her plenty of support and to have backup ready in case her anger were to improperly express itself again.
As the debate raged, Georgia’s mind was drifting. She badly needed another dose. Her eyelids felt as if they were made of iron. The last thing she wanted was to fall asleep in the middle of another meeting, not after the drubbing she’d taken in the press over falling asleep in the middle of PMQs. The photo of her fast asleep at Parliament was on the cover of every single one of the dailies that morning, and not just the Murdoch-owned ones.
In the middle of the discussion Steel interrupted by bolting into the office, pushing away the red-faced staffer imploring her to let him announce her. She had her laptop in her hand and her eyes were wide open with exuberance. She had placed another piece of the puzzle.
“Gordon Thompson is Tatum’s father-in-law. Tatum’s married to his daughter.”
Darling, Georgia, and the others quickly tried to process the news. It went against anything they had known at this point about Thompson, an innocuous figure at best.
“He has a daughter, Kate Thompson. She left the country to go to school in Michigan. Met Tatum in Ann Arbor where he was a local cop.”
Burnlee wasn’t quite making sense of it. Something was bothering him.
“Why wouldn’t he tell us this? It seems like an easy enough thing to eventually find out. I mean, it’s a strong case to be made for Heaton to be involved—the fact that one of his people, an old friend, is related to the bomber. It’s sloppy. Almost too sloppy.”
Steel agreed. She’d thought that through, though.
“Maybe Thompson is another player who’s only in the game to be taken out. Maybe the point will be for the trail to go cold after he and Tatum accidentally turn up dead one day. He seemed shaken to the nub when we were talking to him. He’s likely made out the same story line. He’s more than a bit spooked, that much was obvious. It’s odd I know, but in truth nothing really makes much sense and we still haven’t the faintest clue who the dead man in the back of the Tatums’ rented car is.”
They were good questions, all of them, yet the newest puzzle piece did nothing but dislodge others. They answered no questions, only raised more; pointed further toward Heaton, but also made Steel wonder why a man at his level, with his clout, would put himself so close to the blade on something like this. It didn’t seem to hold any water.
It was obvious to Steel that Georgia felt the same way. The connection to Heaton made it all the more confusing. The way some of the others were quick to not let any blame land on Heaton, the fervor that was building to have Steel stand down—it gave the air an uncertainty that she didn’t need, not with all of the other inconsistency floating around her life at the moment.
“No. Steel will stay on. All information from here on in will come through me, through this office.”
Burnlee stood. He objected to this course. “Georgia, it cannot be done that way.”
“It can and it will. I want Inspector Steel to keep me as close to all this as possible. I want her to have as much access to me as possible.”
Jack Early’s head bobbed in recognition of his marching orders. With various shades of reluctance, Burnlee, Darling, and the rest of the group more or less acquiesced. Georgia and Steel shared a quiet nod with each other across the crowded office, neither of them certain if closer access to the other was the healthiest of personal choices.