‘I do not have to put up with this kinda crap,’ he said through his teeth and threw his heavy leather public-order gloves across the room.
Slumping into his chair, he began to unfasten his boots, drawing out the long laces, muttering angrily at the same time. ‘I do not have to do this, for Christ’s sake. I don’t have to put up with the likes of him.’ He yanked the boot off and threw it against a locker. It stuck for a moment, then thudded to the floor like an injured crow. He started to untie his other boot and by the time it was unfastened, much of his annoyance had dissipated. He removed the boot slowly and lobbed it gently across the room where it fell against its companion.
Henry stood up and began to peel off his outer layer of clothing: the public-order overalls which he rolled up and placed on the desk. The uniform underneath was now even more creased than when he had initially put it on. The white shirt was grubby and sweat streaked around the collar and cuffs.
‘Shit,’ he said, sitting down and putting his elbows on the desk. He dropped his head into his hands, intending to spend some quality time feeling sorry for himself.
The office door inched open. Henry looked up, wiping his grimy face, expecting the row with FB to continue. But it was Dermot Byrne bearing a mug of steaming tea and Henry’s now very scuffed uniform shoes which had been left in the carrier.
‘Thought you might like these.’
‘Thanks, Dermot.’ He took a sip. Hot and life saving, it tasted superb.
Byrne placed the shoes neatly on the floor and stood on the opposite side of the desk, nervously realigning the correspondence trays so they were edge to edge with the desk as he spoke. ‘If it’s any consolation, I thought he was bang out of order. . if you don’t mind me saying so. He had no right to speak to you like that.’
‘He does and says what he wants and everybody’s expected to roll with it. That’s FB. It’s just that I’m too long in the tooth now to be taking crap like that. There’s nothing he can really do to me, so he can get stuffed.’
‘He’s an ungrateful bastard,’ Byrne said with feeling.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ he said back-tracking sharply. ‘Nothing. Anyway, you must be finding it hard, Henry, coming back to this — thrown in at the deep end — and your job given to someone else. . and a woman at that.’
A big sigh escaped Henry and he said, ‘At least she seems capable.’
‘Still a woman, though, doing a man’s job.’
Henry shrugged. ‘That’s life — especially these days.’
Byrne shook his head, saddened by the state of affairs. ‘I’m surprised FB gave your job to a woman, actually, after all the shit he’s been through recently.’ He was alluding to the Employment Tribunal FB had faced recently, accused of sexual harassment which had never been proved.
‘Maybe that’s exactly why he did it, to show he still believed in fairness and equality.’
Byrne opened his mouth to say something but the office door opened revealing FB. With a flick of the thumb he gestured for Byrne to get lost and leave the room. He came in, closed the door softly behind him, leaned against it, hooded eyes on Henry.
‘You and me need to talk,’ he said. ‘I take your point about the corridor being an unsuitable place for a bollocking, but I still stick to what I said, even though I could have phrased it more. . eloquently. I am a very busy man this week and I don’t have the time to be waiting around for anybody, let alone a bloody inspector.’
‘And this inspector is also very busy — in case you hadn’t noticed.’ Henry was determined to stand his ground. ‘A whole bloody council estate has been hit by a riot, an officer is lying critically injured in hospital and I’ve just arrested someone who was carrying petrol bombs who may, or may not, be the one who burned Dave Seymour. I’ve got one bloody big problem out there and it needs policing — sir.’ Henry had decided he’d spent too many years bending over backwards and being used by FB and he’d had enough of it. ‘And if you think that by bunging me back into uniform that life’s a gas, then think again, boss. This is the sharp end and it hurts. CID is a piece of piss compared to this.’
FB had been pacing the office as Henry spoke. He stopped right in front of him and rocked on the balls of his feet while considering his response. He clicked his tongue. ‘I’ll let it go this once, but that’s it. I’m bearing in mind your little “problems” — ’ he tweaked the first and second fingers of both hands to parenthesise the word — ‘and that this is your first day back and you’re struggling a bit. But that’s it. Now there’s no quarter. I’ve let you blow off steam and have a go and if you speak to me like that again in any forum, I’ll cut you off at the knees. Understand?’
Henry said nothing.
‘Good — what you’ve also got to realise is that I want everyone on the ball and responding because I’m under severe pressure this week — pressure that would just pop you — and I don’t need anything else on top of it, like insubordinate subordinates. Get me? This is where it starts.’
This time Henry gave a curt nod.
‘Good.’ FB inhaled, suddenly aware he’d been holding his breath. ‘Now come with me. I didn’t ask you to come in to see me on a whim. There’s people I need you to meet.’
He led Henry wordlessly through the corridors and into the lift. On the seventh floor Henry followed him into what had once been the officers’ mess and was now a lounge for everyone to use, even the riff-raff. Except this week it had been commandeered by FB for use as his gold command post.
There were two men and a woman inside the room, sitting, talking quietly, drinking coffee. They looked up when FB and Henry came in.
‘You already know Karl Donaldson,’ FB said, waving dismissively towards the nearest and biggest of the three.
Donaldson got to his feet, smiling his big, toothy, Yank smile. His big paw of a hand shot out towards Henry, who was also beaming with surprise. They shook hands warmly. Henry felt a surge of pleasure as his eyes took in the vision of his buddy.
‘Karl — good to see you.’
‘And great t’see you, H.’
Donaldson was assigned to the FBI office in London where he was a legal attache. He was no longer a field agent as such; his job was to act as liaison between US law enforcement and British and European police forces. Most of his work was taken up with the Metropolitan Police. He and Henry had met several years earlier when they had been investigating links with American mob activity in the north of England. Since then their working relationship had continued sporadically, but their friendship had blossomed. Donaldson had even married a Lancashire policewoman now working in the Met. Henry and Donaldson had not actually seen or spoken to each other for some time due to the former retreating into a hermit-like shell during his bout of sickness.
It was Donaldson Henry had seen earlier that evening in FB’s car as it had pulled away from the Imperial Hotel. He had intended to catch up with him then but the riot had slightly diverted him.
‘What are you doing up here?’ Henry asked him. Their warm handshake continued as the question was posed.
‘That’s what we’re coming to,’ FB interrupted brusquely, bringing the friendly greeting to a stony close. FB did not have a great deal of time for Donaldson who, for several reasons, tended to rub him up the wrong way. Henry and Donaldson completed their handshake. The American gave a sly wink. The feeling between the American and FB was mutual — he couldn’t stand the prick.
The other man and woman in the room got to their feet.
FB indicated the woman with a pleasant, open-handed gesture, totally opposite to the crooked finger he had pointed at Donaldson. In fact his whole manner had changed as he introduced her. He became slick and smooth, almost reptilian and very attentive. It was screamingly obvious he would have liked the opportunity to get into her panties.