Tania Carver - The Surrogate

And then the hammer came down.

Her last thought: she wished she had gone to that hairdresser’s appointment.

‘ Ishouldn’t be here, Clayton.You know that. You promised me.’

Sophie Gale’s voice was low, hissing. She leaned across the table, kept hard, unblinking eye contact with Clayton. She was angry, he could see that. But he knew that underneath the anger there was something more. He just didn’t know what.

‘Yeah, I know. But what can I do? You’ve got to come in if the boss says so.You know the score. Look,’ he said, leaning across the table also and keeping his voice low, though where hers had been hissing, his was controlled, ‘don’t worry. And don’t panic. That’s the main thing. Main two things.’

Sophie Gale said nothing in reply. Just stared at him, her eyes no less hostile, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She stayed like that, staring, for what seemed to Clayton like several hours but was probably only seconds.

Clayton and Sophie were in the twin of the room Phil was talking to Ryan Brotherton in. The same drab colour, depressing light, scarred table, absence of hope. There was no mirror, though. That, thought Clayton, was something.

He had asked to conduct the interview on his own, wanted to press on with the inquiry. But he knew the rules. He had been attacked while working on a case. There was a charge of attempted murder against his attacker. It was now deemed personal and there was no place for him on the investigation. Standard procedure. But still, he had hoped.

So he had sneaked in, tried to have a quick word before Anni arrived to take over. Out of all of the team it would have to be her, he thought. He knew that time was tight and he and Sophie would have to come up with something plausible very quickly.

‘I am so fucked,’ said Sophie.

‘No you’re not,’ said Clayton. But the phrase sounded weak even to him.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ she said. ‘If I say Ryan was at home with me the night his ex got killed and you find out he wasn’t, I’ll get done by you lot. But if I tell you he was out that night, then he’ll have me. Either way, it’s not pretty.’ She sat back. ‘Thanks a lot.’

Clayton felt himself begin to get angry with her. And he knew that his anger had its roots in the same place as hers: fear. ‘Look,’ he said, his arms out wide, imploring, ‘it’s not just you, is it? It’s me as well. Whatever comes out about you comes out about me. And then we’re both fucked. And now thanks to your shithead boyfriend I’m off the case. So I shouldn’t be here and we haven’t got long. We’ve got to make this work for us. Think. We’ve got to sort this together.’

Silence descended once more.

‘This is what I think,’ said Clayton, speaking quickly. ‘This is what we should do. I go to my boss with what you said about Brotherton going out the night Claire Fielding was killed.’

She began to interrupt but he silenced her with a hand.

‘Just listen. I tell him all that. But I also say that you’re terrified of him. You didn’t want to tell me and only want it used on the condition that Brotherton be charged and kept inside. No bail. Because… because your life’s in danger.’ Clayton sat back, pleased with himself. ‘That’ll work. Yeah. What d’you think?’

Sophie kept staring at him. ‘And where’s the risk to you, then?’

Clayton frowned. ‘What?’

‘You said this is a risk to both of us. I don’t see no risk to you there. Just me.’

Clayton sighed. ‘It’s the best I can think of.’

‘Well you’ll have to think better. Because if I say that and they don’t keep Ryan in, I’m fucked. No job, nowhere to live. Not to mention what he might do to me.’

‘If he does anythin’ he’ll be back in custody.’

She rolled her eyes, threw her arms up. ‘Oh great. And I’ll be in the bleedin’ hospital.’

‘Sophie, it’s the only way out.’

‘For you, maybe.’

‘Well have you got any better ideas?’

‘Yeah.’

Clayton didn’t like the nasty light that had started to glow in Sophie’s eyes. ‘What?’

‘I tell them everything. Not you, your boss. About the informin’ I used to do. All the intel I supplied. The convictions that led to. Remind them what a good source I was.’ The light got nastier. ‘Then I tell them you remembered me from those days, came to see me. Wanted me to keep quiet about the freebies you used to get. But it wasn’t just freebies, was it?’

Clayton said nothing.

‘No,’ Sophie continued. ‘You weren’t content with that. You wanted to run the show as well, didn’t you? Keep your friends supplied. Strangers, too. That was you, wasn’t it? PC Pimp.’

‘Shut up…’

‘Yeah. That’s what you came to see me about. Because freebies, that’s nothing. But running your own little business empire… I don’t think that’ll go down too well. And I’ll tell them. That you said you’d keep my name out of it if I kept my mouth shut. That you even asked for a blow job for old times’ sake.’

‘That’s not-’

Sophie smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. ‘It’s the only way out,’ she echoed, mirroring his words back at him.

Clayton sighed, sat back. ‘This is so fucked.’

‘Ain’t it though.’

‘We have to think of something. Fast.’

The room, small already, began to feel overpoweringly claustrophobic.

They stared at each other.

Neither of them could think of anything to say.

‘ You know,’ said Phil, as if imparting an intimate secret to an old friend, ‘you didn’t have to do all that. With the grab and the metal.’

‘No?’ Brotherton looked genuinely interested.

Phil was working Brotherton hard, but not letting the other man know what he was doing. The technique was working well. He had seen hardened criminals respond to it. Even coppers who had strayed over the line and ended up on the other side of the table responded to it. And they had been trained not to.

But Phil didn’t want to get cocky. He stayed focused, concentrated. He still had a long way to go.

‘No,’ he said. ‘If you’d wanted to do Clayton or me some damage, why didn’t you just hit one of us?’

‘That would have been assault, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yeah, but it could have bought you time; you could have got away. And then a good lawyer could have argued it out later. Said I was harassing you or something.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Phil thought it best not to mention the attempted murder charge now hanging over Brotherton’s head. He didn’t want to break the flow. ‘You could have done that. I mean,’ he said, ‘you’ve got the muscles for it.’ He waited a few seconds, let his words sink in, then continued. ‘I like to think I keep myself in pretty good shape, but to get the kind of body you’ve got, you must be very dedicated. That’s not just from working in the yard, is it?’

‘Nah,’ said Brotherton, unconsciously flexing his biceps. ‘I work out.’

‘Thought so. How long have you been doing that, then?’

Brotherton’s eyes looked to the right. ‘Since my early twenties. About fifteen years?’

‘That is dedication. Whereabouts?’

Again a look to the right. ‘Used to work out in the leisure centre on the Avenue of Remembrance. But now it’s the gym up in High Woods.’

‘Good place. I like a good workout but I’m between gyms at the moment. Just moved house.’ He laughed. ‘But I’m nowhere near your league. What’s High Woods like? Would I like it?’

Brotherton frowned, his eyes falling down to the left. ‘Yeah. It’s a gym, you know? Leisure facilities, they’ve got a pool, sauna.’ He nodded. ‘Not as bad as some places, not as cliquey. But you know. Gym’s a gym when it comes down to it.You get out what you put in.’