Page 24 of Mann Hunt
Charlie stared at him for a moment. “Extra foam,” he said, before getting back to work. As he listened to the espresso machine hiss, Charlie’s pulse slowed, but the embarrassment failed to subside.
“Here you go. One latte—extra foam—for the man who tried to save me.” Declan patted him on the shoulder. “I really do appreciate what you did. You put your life on the line to help me.”
“Well…”
“I’ll be in my office if anything else comes up.”
Declan turned to go. Charlie said, “Wait. So, the crooks win then? The ones from yesterday. You give them the evidence and they walk free?”
“Well, technically, they were alwaysfree. It never got to the arrest stage of the process.”
“That’s just semantics.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So what if they come back and kill Mr Attwal anyway, just to keep him quiet?”
“We all know that they now have Mr Attwal’s only copy of the company’s books. He was afraid to make a second copy. Two copies are harder to keep track of than one. He said it—his wife said it. I believe it. There’s a weird truth in it. It was only a dumb mistake on Mr Attwal’s part that made the thugs panic. Mrs Attwal said they were late in paying him for the third time in a row and he made a threat that he shouldn’t have.”
Declan walked back to Charlie’s desk. “I know these guys. They’re brutal, but they won’t kill unless they’re backed into a corner. Now that Mr Attwal knows it, and since they have their books back, he’s no threat.”
“So, it’s just status quo, criminally speaking?”
Declan crossed his arms. “Look—do I care that I’m giving up information that would get this mobster off a money-laundering charge? Yeah, but that’s not our concern here. That’s a cop’s job, and we’re not the police. Their job is to uphold the law. We just try not to break it too much while we’re trying to save the life of some mobster’s accountant. That’s the way I work around here and if you don’t understand that, maybe this job’s not for you.”
Declan returned to his office, and closed the door.
Declan tried to make up for things, and I just criticised him, Charlie thought.Stupid, stupid me!He threw back the latte, forgetting that it had just been made, and scalded his throat. He slammed the mug down, knocking it over and spilling the remaining coffee all over the top of the desk.
“Shit shit shit shit,” he cried, then fanned his mouth.I am such an asshole.
Charlie ran into the kitchenette to get a cloth, then ran back and mopped up the spill. “You are such an idiot.”
“I’m not sure what I did, but I’m sorry.” A man stood in the doorway of the office. Charlie stared at him, startled.
“I… That wasn’t for you—about you. I don’t… Can I help you?”
“It looks like I should be askingyouthat question,” the stranger said, pointing to Charlie’s desk.
“Oh, right. I’m fine.”
The stranger smiled. “I’d like to talk to Declan Hunt…if he’s free.”
“Ahh,” Charlie said, his head rotating from looking at the stranger to the door of his angry boss. “Sure. I’ll see if he’s available. Be right back.”
Charlie walked to the door. He composed himself and knocked gently. After a two-count, he opened the door just wide enough to stick his head in. Declan was at his desk, looking at his laptop.
“Excuse me, but there’s a gentleman to see you. He looks vaguely familiar,” Charlie informed him in a near whisper.
Declan looked back at him and, in a voice of equal volume, whispered back, “What does he want?”
Charlie wasn’t prepared for this question, so he signalledWait a minutewith an upraised index finger, closed the door and quickly walked back to the stranger. Before he could ask him the purpose of the visit, Declan’s door opened.
“Can I help you?” Declan asked. “Oh, it’s you. You look different in civvies.”
Charlie could see Declan’s body language change —his muscles tensed.
“Uniforms do that to a guy,” the man replied.
