Common Murder

“Provided you don’t mind my company.”

“What?” Lindsay demanded, outraged.

“We don’t take chances with valuable government property,” Barber replied easily. “Besides, I thought it might rather appeal to you. Given your… inclinations.”

Lindsay’s face revealed her contempt. “I’d rather eat razor blades,” she spat.

“That could be arranged,” Barber replied with a faint smile. She pulled a small black notebook from her jacket pocket and made a few notes. Lindsay glowered at her in silence. Long minutes passed before the phone rang again. “Barber here,” the woman said again. She listened, then said abruptly, “Out of the question. No…” She listened again. “He says what?” Anger clouded her eyes. “Well, in that case, you’d better bring him up. I’m not going to forget this whole episode, Stone.” She slammed the phone down and stared at Lindsay. She lit another fragrant French cigarette, then got up and offered one to Lindsay who accepted gratefully. “We have a visitor, Miss Gordon,” Barber said, her voice clipped and taut.

“Who?” the journalist asked wearily.

“You’ll see soon enough,” was the reply before Barber lapsed into silence again.

Lindsay heard the door open and swivelled uncomfortably round in her chair. A surge of relief flooded through her when she saw an obviously disgruntled Stone hustling Rigano into the room. He stopped on the threshold, his face the stony mask that Lindsay had come to recognize as normal. But when he spoke, the concern in his voice was a distinct novelty. “Are you all right?” he asked, moving slowly towards her. Before she could reply, he spotted the handcuffs and rounded angrily on Stone. “For Christ’s sake,” he thundered. “She’s not one of the bloody Great Train Robbers. What’s all this crap?”

Stone looked helplessly at Harriet Barber, who responded immediately. “Mr. Stone is not in charge here, Superintendent. I am, and I have no intention of releasing Miss Gordon until we have the assurances from her that we require. I am under no obligation towards you, and you are here out of courtesy only.”

The tension between the two of them crackled in the air. “We’ll see about that,” Rigano replied grimly before turning back to Lindsay. “Are you all right?”

“Considering that I’ve been kidnapped at gunpoint, threatened with a knife, transported in conditions that would be illegal if I was a sheep, and interrogated by assholes, I’m okay,” she answered bitterly. “You got me into this mess, Jack. You shopped me. Now call off the dogs and get me out of it.”

“He doesn’t have the authority,” Barber said.

“We’ll see about that as well,” Rigano retorted. “But I didn’t shop you, Lindsay. That bastard Stone had my office bugged. I have proof of that, and it’s already in the hands of my senior officers. Your people, madam,” he said, turning towards Harriet Barber, “had my men’s full co-operation, but that wasn’t good enough for you, was it?”

“As things have turned out, it looks as if that was a wise precaution. We haven’t had your full co-operation, after all.”

“You don’t get away with bugging a senior police officer’s room, whoever you are, madam.”

“Your intervention at this juncture is tedious and utterly pointless, Superintendent. You have satisfied yourself as to the well-being of Miss Gordon, and I suggest that you leave now.” Barber’s tone suggested that she was not accustomed to being thwarted.

But Rigano refused to be intimidated. “Where are we up to, Lindsay? What’s the deal?”

“I would advise you not to reply, Miss Gordon. Superintendent, you have no standing here. I strongly advise you to leave.”

“You might not think I have any standing here, madam, but I’d have thought you’d welcome any intervention that might sort this business out. Now, will someone please tell me what the offer is?”

“It’s simple, Jack,” said Lindsay. “I sign away all my rights, promise to forget everything I know, and Simon Crabtree gets to kill Debs.”

Exasperated by the situation spiralling out of her control, Harriet Barber got to her feet and said angrily, “Don’t be absurd. Superintendent, we expect Miss Gordon to sign the Official Secrets Act and to be bound by it. We expect the return of any secret material still in her possession. She will not refer to the events of this evening or to her theories about what has happened at Brownlow to anyone, on pain of prosecution. Not unreasonable, I submit.”

“That’s the sanitised version,” interrupted Lindsay. “What she misses out is that Crabtree stays free to take whatever steps he wants against Debs and that if I write the story, I’ll be silenced. Permanently.”

“No one has threatened your life,” Barber snapped.

“Not in so many words,” Lindsay agreed. “But we both know that’s what we’ve been talking about.”