Page 82 of Copper Script
“Damn right,” Joel said.“You have to have some of these things before I eat them all, by the way, they’re incredible.”
Aaron took a pakora from the plate Joel offered him and dipped it in fragrant sauce, thinking hard.“This is astonishing from you both.What I’m wondering is how we work it.It can’t disappear into a Home Office confidential enquiry.”
“They wouldn’t, surely, sir,” Challice said.“It’smurder.”
“Strictly speaking, this only proves that Colthorne owed Knight money and lied about it.It’s obviously bad and the inference is clear but the higher-ups might well conclude that a prosecution would struggle to prove murder at this distance.And there’s still no concrete evidence that Marks was murdered, and the defence could make hay with that.Colthorne lied about his gambling debt from the best of motives, the conviction of Sammy Beech was made on strong evidence and has not been quashed, he paid Marks’s blackmail and intended to continue doing so as penance, and this entire prosecution stems from a drunkard slipping and falling on a rainy night.”
“Oh,” Challice said, deflating.“Do you think so?”
“It’s what the defence will argue.Whereas the prosecution will need to cast Colthorne as an out and out villain, a murderer given high authority in the Met for years under the noses of his colleagues and superiors.The Commissioner won’t like that at all.”He grimaced.“I’m also aware that if this comes from me, Colthorne might argue a disaffected officer trying to get revenge for his own disgrace.That could muddy the waters to the point where a prosecution might seem very hard to achieve.”
“Helen said he threatened you,” Joel said.
“Unpleasantly.He said I could look to have my various wrongdoings all over the papers.”
“Not via me.I told Sabini what we’d agreed and nothing else.If Colthorne said more, he’s a damned liar.”
Joel sounded ferocious.And he hadn’t caved.He’d stood up to Darby Sabini and lied to his face, for Aaron, and quite suddenly Aaron felt something crack inside.
“Aaron?You all right?”
“Yes.Yes.I just— I don’t know what I did to deserve you.Either of you.I have never felt so alone in my life as I did this morning, and all the time you two were doing this when you should have been watching your own backs.”
“Iamwatching my back; that’s why we’re meeting here,” Challice pointed out.“You’re not wrong, Mr.Fowler.We don’t want this to be bogged down by the DDI accusing you; the Commissioner would never tolerate all that dirty linen in public.”
“Could you do it?”Joel asked her.
Challice picked up a bit of battered onion and turned it in her fingers.“Would anyone listen to me?A detective constable, a woman, with a story like this?And...to be quite frank, bringing down a fellow officer is the kind of thing that ends careers, sooner or later.Everyone might agree he’s a bad apple, but nobody likes a nark.”
“That’s true,” Aaron said.“Not to mention, if you do it, I expect all women officers will be treated as potential snouts for a while.No.My career is over, whatever happens; I’ll do it, and take whatever shrapnel comes my way.”
“No,” Joel said.“That’s not fair.”
“It’s all right.”It wasn’t all right as such: it would be hellish and humiliating and he’d be all over the newspapers.But it had to be done, and Aaron felt a certain lightness at the decision, as though he’d let something slide off his shoulders.“I told you at the beginning of all this I’d do something about number seven, and I intend to.The question is how we make this work.Who I can go to who won’t be swayed by the Commissioner’s obduracy or Colthorne’s claims about me, and who’s prepared to face the trouble this will cause.”
“One of the Big Five?”Challice asked.
“The Detective Superintendents of the Met, based at Scotland Yard,” Aaron explained to Joel.“As far as I know they’re all decent men, but the DDI is on good terms with them.He’s been widely tipped to make a sixth.And any investigation would still have to be cleared by the Commissioner.”
Joel frowned.“Maybe if the information was already out there, it would be harder to brush it under the carpet?”
“Out where?”
“In the papers.”
“That’s a good idea,” Challice said, sitting up.“Do we know any journalists?What about those ones who called you Valentino, Mr.Fowler?”
“Oh, bugger journalists,” Joel said.“What about the editor of the Tribune?”
“You know him?”
“No, but I broke up his daughter’s engagement to an absolute arse a few weeks ago, so I’d say he owes me a hearing.”
“You mean Paul?”Aaron demanded.
“His fiancée was Barbara Wilson, daughter of Tony Wilson, who edits the Tribune.Did you not know that?”
“I try to avoid learning anything about Paul.Can you get me an introduction?”
