Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Richmond Police Station - DI Marchant

Thunk! My forehead connected solidly with the desk. So tired, not to mention hungry, after such a clusterfuck of a day I was looking forward to knocking off. I'm not a big drinker but today... I planned on making an exception.

There was a bottle of Shiraz from last Christmas at home with my name on it. Literally - I still haven't taken the gift tag off!

"Come on, get it together," I muttered to myself, "just a little longer and you can call it a night, only..." I checked the time on my phone and finished the thought with a scowl, "fifty bloody minutes ago."

I looked up from the incomplete form to the now deserted incident room and groaned, how long had I been here on my own?

Hews had been the first to leave. Not that he was any great loss. The poor lamb couldn't concentrate what with the banging headache, or so he claimed, but he didn't let that stop him from whipping his phone out for some game or the other whenever he thought nobody was looking.

Seriously, he was glued to that thing most of the afternoon, trying to be subtle but looking shady as fuck. When he wasn't on his phone kept disappearing, fag in hand, for some 'fresh air'. I even caught him napping a couple of times! He was so distracted by whatever it was running through his head that he failed to notice the DCI standing right in front of him for five whole minutes.

Little shit got away scot-free somehow while I got a bollocking from the boss for my 'managerial failings'. I was told, in no uncertain terms, to send Hews home for a proper rest, and to make sure 'our' paperwork was completed before I knocked off.

Well, I'd managed to finish the dozen accident reports for all of the uniforms involved in this afternoon's 'friendly fire' in the custody suite incident, and had another for Hews open in front of me.

I'd only been staring at it for an hour, or so, tormented by my inability to recall exactly what had happened. The pounding behind my eyes growing worse each time I tried, and I couldn't even ask the little git to help me out.

I was just about to give up and call it a night when the door to the incident room swung open with a bang. I jerked upright, my heart leaping into my throat at the sudden entrance.

The sight was unusual, everyone knew the brass knocked off promptly at five, but I didn't have time to wonder what a grim faced Superintendent Blackwood was doing here so late in the day before he opened his mouth.

"Marchant," he barked, his voice echoing in the empty room. "Drop whatever you're doing. You're wanted over at The Yard immediately."

My eyebrows shot up, a flurry of questions forming on my lips, but Blackwood cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"No time for questions. There's a car waiting outside. This is top priority." With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving me to scramble after him, my mind racing.

What could be so urgent that it required a late-night summons to the Yard?
As I hurried to keep up with Blackwood's brisk pace, I couldn't shake the feeling that this had to have something to do with the woman we'd seen earlier and the strange events of the day.

Whatever was waiting for me in the Curtis Green Building, I had a sinking feeling it was going to be a long night.

***

I strode through the still bustling corridors of New Scotland Yard, my footsteps echoing off the polished floors. It wasn't often that I walked these hallowed halls, and I was pretty sure I'd never actually been on this floor before, but the usual hum of activity of the still busy offices was familiar, comforting - even if something seemed somehow off - nobody would meet my eye and hushed conversations ceased abruptly as I passed, to be replaced by meaningful glances and barely perceptible nods.

As I approached the Chief Constable's office, the knot forming in my stomach tightened abruptly. The summons had been terse and devoid of any explanation, giving me no clue what to expect beyond those doors. Yet, what option did I have? I paused briefly at the empty secretary's desk, crossed my fingers, stepped forward and knocked.

"Enter," came the gruff response.

I stepped into the office, immediately sensing the tension in the air. The Chief Constable sat behind his imposing desk, his face an inscrutable mask. To his right stood another high-ranking official, his face somewhat familiar but his name? Wasn’t even on the tip of my tongue - some bigwig from the Home Office, maybe.

"DI Marchant," the Chief began, his tone carefully neutral. "We need to discuss your recent... interview."

I nodded, my mind racing back to the bizarre encounter with Raven and the events of the day leaving me uncertain where to start. "Sir, umm, what is it that…"

The Chief held up a hand. He exchanged a loaded glance with the Home Office official, who responded with a barely perceptible shake of his head.

"Why don't you start by telling us exactly what happened in the interview room?" the Chief suggested, though his tone made it clear this was an order, not a request.

My head pounded every time I tried to focus on anything specific, just as it had earlier when attempting to fill in the now abandoned paperwork, but I recounted everything as best I could. From the strange atmosphere in the interview room, Raven's droning and oft repeated ‘no comments’, the inexplicable incident with the coffee...

I hadn’t been speaking long, but I wasn’t sure they were listening to a word I said. I couldn't help but notice the silent conversation happening between the two. Raised eyebrows, subtle head tilts, fingers drumming on the desk - a whole dialogue was unfolding without a word being spoken.

And the Chief's eyes kept darting to a locked drawer in his desk, as if it contained some crucial piece of this puzzle. The Home Office official stood with his arms crossed, his entire posture radiating reluctance.

"And then?" the Chief prompted when I faltered.

"Then... nothing, sir. She was gone and, umm, I don’t seem to recall how."

Another loaded glance passed between the two men. The Home Office official gave a slight nod, a reluctant acquiescence to some unspoken question.

"DI Marchant," the Chief began, his words measured, "you must understand that there are... special circumstances surrounding this case."

"Circumstances that require the utmost discretion," the Home Office official interjected, speaking for the first time. His voice was clipped, impatient. "We need you to forget you ever saw that woman in the interview room, although that shouldn’t be hard – you look wiped...,” there was a pregnant pause as the Chief Constable stared daggers at him, “…out.”

Frustration bubbled up in my chest. "With all due respect, sir,” I interrupted, “how am I supposed to solve this case if I'm working with my hands tied? That woman infiltrated my crime scene, she knows something, I’m sure."

The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch. The two men exchanged another series of looks, an entire debate playing out in furrowed brows and clenched jaws.

"You don't need to worry about the girl," the Home Office official snapped, his composure cracking, "she’s a dead end, and it’s not your case anymore...”

"That's quite enough," the Chief cut in before the Home Office guy could say any more, his voice hard. "DI Marchant," the Chief continued, his voice firm but not unkind, "in light of recent developments, we've decided to establish a specialised task force to handle this case. You'll be seconded to this unit, effective immediately. They operate on the thirteenth floor, and you're to report any further... unusual occurrences directly to them. Is that clear?"

I nodded slowly, my mind whirling – it was about as clear as mud, and my brain was struggling to keep up.
"Good. You're dismissed.” He bit out before continuing in a softer tone. “You look knackered, go on, the car’s waiting to take you home – we’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I turned to leave, my eyes caught on something strange – a faint shimmer in the air near the Chief's desk, like heat rising from pavement on a scorching day. I blinked, and it was gone. Must be the fatigue, I thought, shaking my head.

***

I was halfway out, my hand reaching for the secretary’s door when I paused. The voices inside the office had risen, the occupants clearly thinking I was out of earshot. Their words, muffled but distinct, froze me in place.

"...can't believe they wiped her that hard, just like all the others," the Home Office official was saying, his voice tense with frustration.
A third voice interrupted, "It was necessary. You know the protocols."

"But bringing her into the fold? The Court won't like this, it's risky."

"We don't have a choice.” The Chief spoke over the others. “We need her skills, Court be damned."

My head spun, a mixture of confusion and alarm washing over me. Wipe? The Court? What the hell were they talking about? And who the hell did that third voice belong to when there were only two men in the room?

I couldn't I shake the feeling that I was missing something crucial, something just beyond my grasp.

As their argument continued, I quietly slipped out of the office, my mind racing as I rushed towards the elevators suddenly in a hurry to be outside the building. Whatever was going on here, it was clear that I was being kept in the dark about something big. Something that apparently involved me more than I realised.

I stood at the lift doors, glancing nervously around… unable to shake the feeling that I was being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I caught glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision – shadows in the corridors that seemed to move of their own accord.

I hammered the button again, as if that would hurry the damned thing along, eager to get out of the oppressive atmosphere.
A relieved giggle snuck past my lips with the mechanical ding that announced the lift’s arrival – hopefully I’d soon be on my way home where I could start piecing together this bizarre puzzle.

The sudden move to the Yard, the Court, whatever the hell "wiping" meant – it all pointed to something far beyond the scope of a normal police investigation. But then again, I mused as the car started its descent, I'd never been one to back down from a challenge.
If they thought they could play me like a puppet, they had another thing coming.

I straightened my shoulders, determination settling over me. I had no idea what I was up against, but one thing was certain - I was going to find out exactly what the fuck was going on and, now, I knew just where to start.

Tomorrow, I'd start digging, and God help anyone who tried to stand in my way.