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Commissioner’s Office
New Scotland Yard
Hagen felt like his head was going to implode, and it was barely five of ten in the morning. He’d taken a headache powder in preparation for this ordeal... and an ordeal he had known it would be... but even he hadn’t anticipated this debacle.
His eyes traveled to the stocky bulldog of a man with the steel grey eyes who was this...close... to quite literally jumping up and down on the Commissioner’s desk. Hagen had dealt with the “bulldog”, Laurence Grayson, on several occasions since the scrappy officer had been moved to IPCC. He didn’t seem to have the temperament for dealing with police complaints and internal affairs issues, but someone somewhere thought so.
Hagen’s eyes traveled on to the owner of the office, who was currently sitting behind his desk with a degree of calm upon his face that didn’t seem humanly possible. Commissioner David Evans was the consummate diplomat... you had to be in that job...
“Commissioner Evans,” Grayson said, his teeth gritted slightly, trying to contain his energy and irritation as he spoke. “This is not the first time that there have been issues with this Murder Squad unit. Non-police involvement in direct investigation, questioning of witnesses, evidence tampering—”
“Tampering?” Hagen was really struggling now. Grayson was crossing that thin blue line in a big way, and instead of going after Pierce alone, he was trying to go after the entire squad, trying to go after him... “I’d believe the commissioner would like to see the evidence you have of this as much as I would.”
Grayson nearly rolled his eyes, and Hagen had to literally clench his fist to avoid hauling off and punching the little git in the face. Hagen was a good-natured fellow... Anybody who knew him would agree... But sometimes no amount of meditation was enough to calm him, and he was getting dangerously close to meltdown. Hagen took several deep breaths to focus and calm before he turned to Commissioner Evans.
“The issue here, Dave,” Hagen began, addressing the man by his first name as he usually did. “The issue is that Mr. Grayson, for whatever reason he’s selected this time, has decided to restrict my access, my squad’s access, to information that could prove relevant to the solving of a case. And not just any case... this is about our lads, the ones we’ve lost, the one sitting right now in a cell... We need the information to proceed—”
“To proceed with what?” Grayson was practically snorting, and Hagen had to fight a chuckle as the “bulldog” image came to mind again. “What could the personnel files of murdered police officers have to do with apprehending and prosecuting a criminal immigrant responsible for their deaths?”
“There is no proof of that,” Hagen replied tightly, softening the glare he’d given Grayson as he turned back to the commissioner. “Absolutely none.”
Commissioner Evans held up his hand, silencing both men. “Alright. Now, Doug,” he turned to Hagen. “You need this information to help with the investigation, that is a given. Have you asked Grayson for the information?”
Hagen resisted the urge to slap him for such a juvenile question... What are we, children? Did you ask him for it nicely? Remember to say please? Hagen swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue and smiled tightly. “I have phoned IPCC on three occasions. Detective Constable Owens has repeatedly attempted to access the files, with no result.”
Evans nodded. “So, you chose to go to the families?”
“I spoke to Crown Prosecutor Reynolds... He suggested that I speak to the families and whether they would be willing to exercise their FOI rights. They were.”
“You involved the Crown Prosecution Service in this matter?” Grayson’s coloring was going from dark pink to red, and Hagen hoped that the man would calm down before he had a heart attack or something. Well, sort of hoped...
“I did not ‘involve’ him... I consulted with him regarding what could be done to allow me access to the information.”
“See, this is what I’m talking about!” Grayson gesticulated furiously as he talked, and Hagen was relieved that his chair was far enough away that he was out of range of those flying hands. “This Murder Squad unit is out of control. Take last night’s incident for a technicolor example. A chase through crowded evening streets...taser use... and your sergeant with a gun...again.”
“Detective Sergeant Pierce is a skilled marksman with an impeccable record when it comes to weapon-involved situations.” Hagen crossed his arms, his face revealing some of his irritation... that headache powder was starting to wear off a bit, and the throbbing in his forehead was starting to get bad. “He was carrying a weapon last night on my orders, and with all appropriate weapons locker documentation complete and accounted for. He did not discharge his weapon, and the weapon was surrendered to Armed Response when the situation was concluded. Now, if Mr. Grayson could spend more time investigating actual police complaints instead of harassing my sergeant, perhaps we could get some more bloody work done!”
The phone on Evans’ desk rang, and he quickly answered, hoping to perhaps immerse himself enough in a conversation and bring an end to this meeting. “Send him in,” Evans replied to the speaker on the other line, and quickly hung up. Moments later, the door to the office opened and Jerome Wilkinson entered. Though his skin was a deep brown, Hagen could still see traces of the dark circles under his eyes. His whole form was filled with tension, and it was clear that the CPS barrister was very stressed out.
“Commissioner Evans, ...” Wilkinson nodded to him, and the other two in turn. “Superintendent... Grayson.”
“Mr. Wilkinson,” Evans began, gesturing to an empty chair. Wilkinson held up a staying hand in answer, though, and promptly popped open his briefcase, pulling out a large, and rather official looking bunch of envelopes.
“This is a brief regarding the Freedom of Information laws here in England, and the requirement of the Metropolitan Police department, and all of its agencies, to adhere to that law.” Wilkinson took a deep breath, and addressed Grayson directly, though Hagen noted he never looked at him. “Mr. Grayson... the Independent Police Complaints Commission is to release all documentation related to the deceased police officers, Joshua Newcastle and Robson Corbett, as well as those related to the living police officer, Heath Marshall, by the end of the day. If there are any further delays, or if any future investigations are hindered due to the IPCC withholding information or restricting access, Crown Prosecution will have no choice but to initiate proceedings against the IPCC for violation of the Freedom of Information protocols and for misconduct within the department.” Wilkinson paused a moment, before placing one of the envelopes on Evans’ desk. He turned to hand one to Hagen, who nodded as he took it.
When Wilkinson turned to hand the third and last folder to Grayson, the other man recoiled like it was a snake. He looked at Wilkinson pointedly, shock and rage swirling together into a frighteningly ugly expression. Wilkinson sighed and looked at him, his brown eyes intense as he held the envelope a bit closer. Grayson grabbed the envelope roughly, and made a quick exit.
Evans winced as the door slammed, then held up the envelope Wilkinson had given him. “I trust that everything you just said to Mister Grayson is in here?”
“Of course. And in Superintendent Hagen’s envelope as well,” Wilkinson replied.
Evans quickly smiled. “Good.” He tossed the envelope into a pile on his desk before turning his attention to Hagen. “Well, then, Doug... You should have what you need by the end of the day. If there are any problems, let me know.”
Hagen stood. He’d known Commissioner Evans long enough to know that he’d been dismissed. Wilkinson seemed to realize it as well, whether from experience or just his own desperate need to be anywhere but there. Whatever the case, the two bid the commissioner their goodbyes and left the office.
They were silent as they waited for the lift, and, even after it arrived and they both stepped in, the silence continued. Hagen pressed his own floor, and the ground floor as well for the other man. The doors slid shut and the elevator car dropped briskly. As his floor approached, Hagen cleared his throat, breaking the quiet surrounding them.
“Mister Wilkinson,” Hagen began. “I want to thank you for doing that.”
“Mister Reynolds did that, Superintendent.”
Hagen nodded. “Yes, but you didn’t have to deliver it.” The car slid to a stop on Hagen’s floor and the door chimed as it slid open. Hagen stepped forward, pausing in the door for a moment as he looked back. “I appreciate it, sir. And I won’t forget it.” He punctuated his words with a tight smile and a nod, then stepped forward and allowed the doors to close behind him.