Хилари Боннер - A Kind Of Wild Justice

‘Every force has its super-hackers now, computer-born crimes are becoming more and more commonplace. Apparently it didn’t take ’em long to find those hidden files.’

‘And what did Shifter say then?’

‘“Never seen ’em before in my life, guv.” You know Shifter. What else would you expect? That’s his code, isn’t it? Wouldn’t point the finger even at a copper. Although word is he finds it highly amusing that Mike Fielding’s been banged up. But one way and another he’s no help at all.’

Neither would he be. Particularly not with a police officer in the frame. Joanna thought for a moment. So much didn’t quite add up.

‘Shifter did say he was paid fifteen grand for topping Jimbo,’ she said eventually. ‘Mike Fielding wouldn’t have that kind of cash going spare.’

The young man shrugged. ‘Maybe doing Jimbo was so important to him he borrowed, got himself a second mortgage or something. Nobody seems to know yet, but chances are it will come out eventually. In any case there’s plenty of other possibilities. You know Fielding’s reputation. He’s always sailed close to the wind. Maybe some toe-rag owed him, or there’s a face paying him bundles to keep his mouth shut. Coppers can always get cash, Jo, if they’re bent enough, can’t they?’

She winced. She had never thought that Fielding was bent. Overeager. So sharp he could cut himself and frequently did — but actually bent enough to take backhanders from criminals? Surely not. But maybe she’d really never known Mike at all. She made herself concentrate on the job in hand.

Like her, she thought, it was unlikely that Todd Mallett had actually believed Fielding had hired Shifter, not even when he commandeered his laptop, but Mike had already been publicly accused, albeit by the O’Donnells, of doing so. It must have been as obvious to Mallett as it had been to Joanna that in view of the way in which Shifter had been hired and paid, the clues could still be lurking on somebody’s hard drive somewhere. Maybe Fielding was guilty and, not for the first time in his life, had not been quite so clever as he thought he had. Joanna was more confused than ever. All she knew for certain was that she had to do her best to find out the truth. Did Fielding really do it? Could he have been calculated enough to hire a contract killer?

As soon as Tim left her she wrote to Mike at Exeter prison. It was a brief, carefully worded letter fundamentally expressing her sorrow at his predicament and requesting that he would let her visit him.

Paul had so far avoided talking to her about the Fielding development, which suited Jo totally. The editor was relying on Tim Jones for day-to-day handling of the story and left it to Pam Smythe to liaise with Jo. But that night at home there was a discernible tension between Jo and her husband. The extraordinary sequence of events which for almost two days they had both been unwilling or unable to discuss was obviously to the forefront of both their minds.

Paul played jazz even louder than usual and Joanna did her best not to let it show that anything at all was bothering her. Eventually, just before bedtime, Paul enquired casually, ‘What do you think of your boyfriend now, then?’

Joanna thought that was a fairly cheap remark, both unworthy of Paul and unusual for him. ‘I don’t know what to think, and he’s not my boyfriend. I gave you my word.’

‘You gave me your word nineteen years ago when we got married, Joanna.’

‘What happened between Mike Fielding and me is over for good and nothing like it will ever happen again, Paul. There’s no more I can say to you.’

‘That will have to be enough, then.’ He spoke in a rather faraway manner. However, she was used to this distance in him. He was colder than usual, but theirs had never been exactly a warm cosy relationship.

Four days later she received a visiting order to see Fielding. She took it straight to Paul in his office. She had always intended to do this. She accepted now that there was no way she could see the disgraced policeman without Paul knowing. Not ever again, probably. In or out of jail. So she might as well be up front about it.

‘Why do you want to do this?’ he asked in a level voice.

‘Two reasons,’ she responded. ‘First, I want to tell Mike to his face that it’s over between us regardless of the outcome of his prosecution. I tried to phone him before he was arrested but I never got through. Second, professional reasons, of course. He’s not going to talk to any other journalist, is he? And I honestly believe I will learn the truth if I see him.’

Her husband studied her silently for a moment or two. ‘I don’t want you to see him,’ he said eventually.

‘I can hardly fuck him in prison, can I?’ she burst out.

His eyes clouded over.

‘Look, Paul. I haven’t come here to ask your permission. I am going to see Mike. I told you I wouldn’t deceive you any more and I am keeping my word. I will never see Fielding again after this. But I am quite determined to do so this final time. I’ve given you my reasons. If you want to make something of it, you can, but I hope you will accept it.’

‘I could stop you.’ The usual cool voice. The usual unfathomable look.

‘No, you can’t, actually,’ she said, trying to sound equally cool. ‘You can start those damned divorce proceeding if you like, as you threatened you would, although I hope you won’t, but you can’t stop me.’

She left his office then, without waiting for a reply. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t divorce her. He would put up with this. After all, he had put up with far more. He wanted to keep her. He had fought for her. He could have done it in a more human fashion, of course, but Paul was Paul. In a way she was more than ever aware of the power she had over him. She also knew she must never abuse it again. But she could use it. And that was what she had just done. She had been honest, she had been direct and she had forced him to accept something he didn’t like.

Knowing Paul, though, she thought with just a flicker of amusement as she walked back to her desk, he would have started by now to consider the professional aspects of her planned prison visit. It would put the Comet well ahead of the game, no doubt about it. And Paul would like that very much indeed. No doubt about that either.

Two o’clock in the afternoon, the arranged time on the appointed day for Joanna’s visit, had seemed a long time coming to Fielding. He was angry with himself for looking forward to seeing her so much. He felt let down by her, as indeed he felt let down by all of them. He was on remand so he was wearing his own clothes. That at least was something. He wouldn’t have wanted her to see him in prison drabs. He hoped that nobody would see him in those, ever, but things were pretty bleak right now.

He didn’t have a mirror in his cell, which was all for the best, probably. He knew he looked dreadful.

Eventually they came for him. She was already sitting at one of those tables in the visiting room. Her turn to wait. But just for a few minutes, he supposed. He wished he didn’t react the way he did whenever he saw her. His heart leapt. And his body? Well, nobody, not ever, had had the effect on him that Joanna Bartlett had. When they had begun their affair again after all those years he had never thought it would still be like that, at least not quite so extreme.

He saw her glance up as they opened the door and he stepped into the room. She looked good. But then she almost always did. She had never been pretty. Striking, yes. Pretty, no. But she had aged well. She had good bone structure and fine skin. Her body was good, too. She worked at that and it showed. He couldn’t see much of it — she was wearing a loose linen jacket over a cotton shirt buttoned to the neck — but he had learned over the last few months just how good it was. By God he had. His belly muscles tightened slightly at the thought. She could pass for ten years younger than she was, he thought, which was more than he ever would again. Certainly after coping with all of this — if he did cope with it.