Death Message

At some point. The moment when the identity of the man they were both after – although Thorne could still not be sure if they were chasing him for the same reason – was brought out into the open. Then it would be down to clout, pure and simple, and Thorne knew who was carrying the most.

‘Rawlings is an aggressive little bastard though, isn’t he?’ Nu

‘He’s scared.’

‘No point being scared if you haven’t done anything.’

‘That’s bollocks,’ Thorne said. ‘You know very well that you lot are there to scare people.’

‘To remind them, maybe.’

‘They give you special training, don’t they?’

‘You’re not scared, are you?’

‘Constantly.’

Nu

Thorne stared straight ahead. Petula had cross-faded into Glen Campbell singing ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’.

Three years before, Thorne had been indirectly responsible for the death of a prominent north London gangster. Few had mourned, but Thorne lived with the knowledge that the day might come when he would have to answer for it. He could not know if this event, or others that came close, was in a DPS file; but more worrying were the reasons why Nu

He looked across, but Nu

You’d be stupid not to worry a little…

Thorne didn’t like Richard Rawlings, and trusted him even less, but he’d been happy enough to remain noncommittal in an effort to get Nu

‘“Robbed” was the word you used,’ Nu

Thorne wondered if Nu

‘Two’s always better than one. Always.’

‘Well, either you know who the other copper is and you were hoping Ski

‘Doesn’t really matter now he’s dead.’

‘Which is it?’

The advantage of playing virtual poker, especially when your face gave away as much as Thorne’s usually did, was that you could dance around with glee when your hole cards were revealed and only someone in the room with you would know you’d been dealt aces. Thorne looked at Nu

‘Look, we both know what this man’s done,’ Thorne said. ‘“Squire”.’ That got a reaction. It was the first time the name had been mentioned between them. ‘We both want him put away, but it seems to me like one of us thinks it’s some sort of competition.’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Am I? Way it’s going, we’ll only find out who this fucker is when he turns up with his skull smashed in.’

Nu

‘So, is it Rawlings?’ Nothing. ‘Does Rawlings know?’

Thorne let out a long sigh, sucked it back in hard when Nu

‘So, one of us thinks it’s a competition,’ Nu

Try as he might, Thorne knew he was reddening. If Nu

Nu

‘It’s not just the shit though, is it?’

‘I don’t do this because I enjoy the looks when people know which department you’re working for. I don’t love being called a scab and a fuck of a lot worse, hearing the conversation stop when you walk into the canteen. Do you honestly reckon I’d be doing it if I didn’t think it was important?’

On the train a few days before, Thorne had thought he’d sensed a vulnerability; something not quite hidden by the long coat and shaved head. He thought he caught another glimpse of weakness now, in the vehemence, but it had gone before he had even finished the thought.

‘We’re well aware what people think,’ Nu

Neil Diamond, now: ‘Beautiful Noise’. A song Thorne loved, in spite of himself. ‘Well, if you’ve got the faintest idea what I think,’ he said, ‘I’d be happy to hear it. Because at the minute, I haven’t got a fucking clue.’

Nu

The Neil Diamond song was still in his head, becoming less of a favourite all the time, when Thorne called Louise, mid-afternoon. He could barely hear her when she picked up.

‘What the hell’s that?’

Louise had to raise her voice over some very uneasy listening in the background. ‘Some piece of thrash-metal Phil brought over with him.’

‘OK…’

Hendricks was still there.

Thorne heard Louise shouting at Hendricks to turn the music down; heard it stop completely a few seconds later. When Louise came back to the phone, she was almost whispering.

‘He’s in a seriously strange mood, by the way.’

So, Hendricks hadn’t mentioned their earlier conversation to Louise. That was probably no bad thing. Thorne toyed with telling her about the message, about Hendricks’ refusal to take it seriously, but decided against it. She was bound to ask the same question Hendricks had, about what Brigstocke thought, and Thorne did not want to get into any of that. He could always have told her that he was acting DCI, of course, but keeping his mouth shut felt slightly better than such near deceit. So he said nothing.

Enough people were thinking badly of him as it was.

‘How’s it been?’ Louise asked, flat.

‘Same as ever. However you feel at the start of the day, it’s downhill from breakfast.’

‘You must be knackered,’ she said. ‘Sorry…’

‘It’s fine.’ He could hear something being shouted in the background. Told her about the text he’d received from Hendricks that morning.

‘Did he? He never said anything.’

It was hardly a surprise. Even as Thorne recounted Hendricks’ you’re the best message, he couldn’t help but think it would be the last joke coming from that direction in a while.

‘That’s fu

Thorne was relieved to hear a smile in her voice.

‘When can you get over?’

‘Shouldn’t be too late. Eight, half eight.’

‘Maybe we can finally get to see this movie. There’s usually late shows on a Saturday.’

‘Or the three of us could do something together,’ Thorne said. ‘Might be easier to just get a DVD out.’

‘OK,’ Louise said, frosty again.

‘I’m booked out for the whole day tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, fine. Whatever.’

Thorne guessed that the ‘whatever’ meant anything but; that Louise had been banking on the two of them spending some time alone. But he hadn’t quite been able to forget about that video clip. Perhaps he should simply have told her, because by the time he’d hung up, after half a minute more of fuck all, he knew that Louise was thinking badly of him anyway.