At 10 a.m. he had his usual briefing from the ACC who’d been on duty over the weekend. There was little to bring to August’s attention, other than to update him regarding Henry Christie and request protection for the jury in the Hinksman trial. It was clear that they were being nobbled.
‘ That’s all we need!’ exclaimed August. ‘What about protecting the witnesses, too?’
‘ That’s in hand, I understand.’
‘ I’d be tempted to give Christie authority to carry a gun home with him under the circumstances. He may need it… it’s something I’ll have to consider.’
‘ Could be a good idea.’
‘ Hm. Anything else? No? OK, thanks for that.’
The ACC collected his reports and left the office. August checked his appointments for the day ahead. He was quite busy. He sighed and his mind turned to Janine. They’d made no firm plans for the week ahead, but she’d said to call her whenever he felt like it. She was working in Cumbria all of this week, and when she’d dropped him off at headquarters on Saturday morning, she’d given him her mobile phone number.
He wanted her there and then. He could imagine it — her bent forwards, holding onto the edge of the desk, him thrusting into her, both of them crying out with the pleasure of it all…
What a night they’d had. Pure carnal pleasure which had been increased by his introduction to cocaine. At first he’d resisted, but when he’d seen the effects on her, and been reassured that it wasn’t addictive, he’d given it a try.
It had been fabulous.
He dialled her number, but it came back unobtainable. Strange, he thought, but decided to try again later.
The sight of all that paperwork in his in-tray depressed him. He scooped it up and laid it in front of him on the desk.
A couple of reports merely required his signature. The next piece of correspondence was a large, A4-sized Jiffy envelope, addressed to him personally. It had arrived via the external mail, post-marked South Lakes. He lifted it up, interested. It was fairly heavy.
He peeled the envelope open and shook the contents out. There was a video-tape, VHS, TDK make, with a label on it that said boldly COPY, plus a series of photographs which had been taken over the weekend, of him and Janine kissing and embracing in public.
August suddenly felt very queasy. Typewritten on the sheet of paper which accompanied the video were the words, This is a very edited version of events. Hope you find them interesting. Will contact you in due course. NB — this tape is a copy. It is for your eyes only.
August stood up and crossed to the TV and video-player in the corner of his office. He inserted the cassette and waited apprehensively for the picture to appear.
Initially the screen was a lined grey haze.
Then an image came on. Very sharp. Very clear. Very professional.
A man and a woman. Naked. Kneeling, face to face. The woman was working his erect penis with deft fingers. The man moaned: the video had a soundtrack. His face was screwed up tight in the agony of sexual ecstasy. He came, ejaculating across the woman’s lower belly. The sperm dribbled down to her pubic hair. The man sagged exhaustedly and the couple embraced. He laid his head on her shoulder and turned his face towards the camera. The screen faded to blackness. The whole thing was less than ninety seconds long.
The face of the woman had been erased from the video.
But the face of the man was very clear and identifiable.
The screen flickered back to life after a pause. This time it showed the same couple kneeling side by side over the bedside cabinet, apparently snorting cocaine.
This was a thirty-second clip. Then it all went black again.
August pressed the rewind button and played the tape once again. He held the last frame of the masturbation sequence for a few seconds and found himself staring helplessly into his own eyes.
He ejected the cassette and strode back to his desk, dazed and confused. He picked up the phone and dialled Janine’s number. Unobtainable.
August stood holding the phone to his ear, his eyes gazing out unseeingly across his beloved rugby pitch.
All he could see was his sperm splashing across Janine’s stomach and the end of his career.
Henry Christie drew his story to a close. Karen and Donaldson had been good listeners.
‘ So who was the guy?’ Donaldson enquired.
‘ Don’t know yet, maybe never will. Fingerprints haven’t thrown anyone up, so it’s possible he may have no previous convictions.’
‘ Henry — you did good,’ said Donaldson with a smile. He punched Henry on the shoulder.
Henry looked at them. They were grinning from ear to ear, continually exchanging sidelong glances. They were obviously very happy together. Karen’s eyes were shining. She was a completely different person from the strung-out individual Henry had encountered all those months ago. The ruthless career woman who gave no quarter had been replaced by a relaxed person with no edge whatsoever.
Henry liked the change. He had never felt comfortable with her until now.
‘ So what’s your news, Kar1? What’s happening on your side of the water?’
‘ Aww,’ he said dismissively, ‘Corelli’s still givin’ us the runaround and we don’t seem any closer to catching him. I’ll fill you in later. There’s something much more important to tell you.’
‘ We’re engaged to be married,’ blurted out Karen. She reached for Donaldson’s hand.
‘ Yep,’ said Donaldson. ‘You’re the first to know.’
Henry was pleased for them. They were two nice people. In fact, he felt a twinge of jealousy. ‘That’s good news,’ he said warmly. ‘You’re good for each other, but isn’t there a slight logistical problem with all this?’
‘ Well, yeah,’ admitted Donaldson. ‘We haven’t quite worked that one out yet, but we will. As the saying goes, love will find a way.’
After lunch with a visiting ACC from North Wales, Dave August returned to his office trying to believe that the tape was all a practical joke, that Janine would phone and explain it all away.
But once behind closed doors again, dark despair began to creep over him like a shroud of mist. Carefully, he removed the envelope he’d received that morning. Now it was in a clear plastic bag. He unfastened it, shook out the video and the photographs and gazed at them on his desk. They offended his eyes, made him feel sick.
He again slotted the video into the player and watched the action, mesmerised. He worked out where the camera had been situated. Now he saw why it had all been so easy and what a fool he’d made of himself.
‘ Shit,’ he said. ‘Sex, drugs and a Chief Constable.’
Presumably there was going to be a blackmail threat somewhere along the line. He would be ruined if the compromising material reached the people who were now considering his application for promotion to the Inspectorate. And what if members of the Lancashire police committee got hold of it? Or the press? August’s heart sank. And what about his wife? Or the kids?
Career, marriage, lifestyle — down the tubes.
He had everything to lose.
He began to sweat.
But what do I have to offer a blackmailer? he asked himself.
I’m not rich, so it can’t be money.
The only thing I possess is information…
He thought about it further, but nothing specifically interesting came to mind.
He locked his top drawer when he heard his office door open. In stepped his new staff officer — Chief Inspector Jenny Cornwall, — and announced that the discipline hearing was ready to kick off.
‘ Wheel ‘em in,’ he said. Some poor bastard of a PC was going to get hell this afternoon.
Henry found himself confronted by one of the most stunning-looking women he had ever met in his life when he left court that afternoon. It was the combination of gorgeous long legs, short skirt, silky blonde hair, upturned cheeky nose, bright eyes and a haughty, confident, no-nonsense look which did it, plus a subtle perfume which assaulted Henry’s nostrils like an aphrodisiac.