Tania Carver - The Surrogate

Clayton shrugged. ‘M’not. Just wondered.’

Phil smiled. ‘Got a little thing for her, have you?’

‘Shut up,’ said Clayton, not laughing. He looked out of the window, said nothing more.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

The scrap metal yard looked just the same but the pounding rain lent it the air of a black and white photo. Something grim and depressing from a sixties documentary, thought Phil as he drove the Audi through the gates. He was expecting the place to be deserted because of the weather, but men were still working out in the yard, unloading trucks and lorries, filling containers with metal.

Phil looked up at the cab of the grab. Brotherton was again inside it, swinging the huge arm from one of the bays, taking handfuls of twisted metal and transferring them to the open container on the back of an articulated lorry. Phil pulled the car up at the side of the office, facing the grab. He knew Brotherton had seen him; now he wanted to see if he would make eye contact. Brotherton ignored him, continued with his work.

‘Come on,’ said Phil, ‘let’s go and give the happy couple the good news.’

He got out of the car, Clayton following silently, and made his way to the office. He knocked on the door and, without waiting for a reply, went straight in. Sophie Gale was sitting at her desk, talking to a middle-aged man who was standing next to her wearing a pair of filthy overalls. She was laughing at something the man had said while he was watching her prominently displayed breasts for any sign of a reaction. They both looked up as Phil and Clayton entered, the man reluctantly dragging his attention upwards.

‘I’ll be with you in a-’ Sophie stopped mid-sentence. ‘Oh. It’s you. I’m busy, you’ll have to wait.’

‘Sorry to barge in,’ said Phil with a smile. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but it’s pouring out there.’ He gestured to her with his hand. ‘Please, don’t mind us. Pretend we’re not here.’

The man in the overalls looked between the two new arrivals and Sophie and picked up the undercurrent of tension in the room. Phil reckoned he had clocked them both for police straight away. He was used to that kind of reaction. He just stood waiting patiently.

Clayton on the other hand seemed decidedly fidgety. Nervous, even, Phil might have said.

Sophie paid out several twenty-pound notes to the man, gave him a receipt. All thoughts of her breasts gone, he couldn’t get out of the door quick enough. Once he had closed it behind him, she turned to the two of them, keeping her eyes on Phil as she did so.

‘So what is it this time?’ Her expression as hard as her cleavage was soft.

‘We need to talk to your boyfriend,’ said Phil, keeping his eyes on her face. He glanced to the window as a figure made its way towards the door of the office. ‘And here he comes now.’

The door slammed open. ‘What the fuck is it now?’ Brotherton’s voice was more irritated than angry, although there was enough in it to demonstrate that it could reach anger levels very quickly.

Phil looked at the big man, wearing just a T-shirt despite the cold and rain, and wondered how best to proceed. Take it easy, he thought. Come in fast and hard and the results might not be pretty.

‘We just need a word, Mr Brotherton.’

Brotherton opened his arms expansively. ‘Then have one. And make it fuckin’ quick.’

‘Not here,’ said Phil, his voice quiet but authoritative. ‘Down at the station, if you don’t mind.’

The anger that Brotherton had barely concealed suddenly surfaced. ‘Don’t mind? Don’t fuckin’ mind? Well I do fuckin’ mind. So say what you want now and get out, or I’m callin’ my brief.’

‘We want to talk to you down at the station, please.’ Phil kept his eyes on Brotherton. Made them calm and cold, the opposite of the big man’s. ‘The sooner we do this, the sooner you can get back to work.’

‘I’m callin’ my brief. I ain’t sayin’ another word till he gets here.’

‘Fine,’ said Phil, sighing inwardly. As soon as a suspect got lawyered up, there was nothing he could say or do. ‘Get him to meet us at the station. I’m sure he knows the way.’ He gestured to the door. ‘Please?’

Brotherton turned to Sophie. ‘Get Warnock on the phone. Now.’

‘We’d like Sophie to come along too,’ said Phil.

Brotherton turned back to him. His rage had just reached a new plateau, Phil could see. He was waiting to take it a step higher and then it would be released.

‘We’d like a word with her too. So if you could both just come this way?’

Sophie looked between Phil and Clayton. She seemed to be about to say something to Clayton, but – and here Phil couldn’t be sure – appeared to change her mind on seeing Clayton shake his head. Just a small, surreptitious movement, and Phil couldn’t swear that he had seen it, but she fell silent after that. With a burning anger that seemed to match Brotherton’s.

‘I’ve got a fuckin’ business to run! Who’s goin’ to look after that?’

‘That’s not our problem, Mr Brotherton. We need to talk to you both. Right now.’

Brotherton looked at the two men, then at Sophie. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said, and stormed out of the office, slamming the door as he went.

Sophie came out of her angry trance. ‘Ryan, no…’ She ran into the yard after him, but not without giving Clayton a hard, venomous look.

Phil looked at Clayton. ‘Don’t think she likes you,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Clayton, shaking his head. Was that fear on his junior officer’s face? Phil wasn’t sure.

‘What’s brought that on, then?’ he asked.

‘No idea,’ said Clayton. He took his eyes away from the yard, turned to Phil. ‘You didn’t say anything about her coming in for questioning too. Why?’

Phil shrugged. ‘Why not? She lied for him the other night, remember? If we’re going to break him down, she might be our best chance.’

Phil waited for a reply, but Clayton said nothing. From out in the yard they heard the angry screech of gears.

‘I think we’d better get out there, don’t you?’

They hurried into the yard. Suspecting that Brotherton might make a dash for his car and try to escape, Phil had blocked him in with the Audi. But Brotherton wasn’t going to give in easily. Sophie was standing in the middle of the yard, screaming at the cab of the grab.

‘Ryan, don’t…’

The other workers had stopped what they were doing and were watching what was going on. Phil could do nothing as the grab, with Brotherton at the controls, dug into the bin of metal it was in the process of transferring to the lorry container, coming up with a huge handful of scrap. But instead of placing it in its intended target, with another angry squeal of gears it swung round towards the centre of the yard. To right where Phil and Clayton were standing.

Sophie screamed and ran out of the way. Phil looked up and saw the huge claw wavering overhead; Brotherton had swung it so quickly it was shedding smaller pieces of metal, joining the rain in falling. Phil was no expert, but he was sure the arm of the grab was swaying dangerously.

He tried to catch Brotherton’s eye in the cockpit, call to him, make him stop, but the man’s features were twisted with rage, his powerful arms working the levers furiously. Phil realised there would be no reasoning with him.

‘Boss, run…’

Phil didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed hold of Sophie and pulled her back with him into the office. The other workers had scattered, most of them into the large storage area at the side of the office. He looked out of the window. Clayton had tried to follow him back inside but had been unable to. Phil stood watching helplessly as his DS was left standing underneath the grab, frozen, looking round for somewhere to run.