Val McDermid - Common Murder

She marched up to the duty officer. “I need to see Superintendent Rigano,” she said. “It’s a matter of great urgency.”

The officer looked sceptical. “I don’t know if he’s still here, miss,” he stalled. “Perhaps if you could tell me what it’s all about we’ll see if we can sort it out.”

“Why don’t you check and see if he is here? You can tell him that I need to speak to him about the Deborah Patterson attack,” she responded crisply.

He compressed his lips in irritation and vanished behind a frosted-glass partition. Five minutes later he reappeared to say grudgingly, “If you follow me, I’ll take you to the Super.”

She found Rigano sitting alone at his desk going through a stack of files. The lines on his face seemed to be etched more deeply, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. “So what is it now, Miss Brown? Can’t Miss Gordon run her own errands? Or is she just keeping out of my way?”

“I was hoping you might be able to tell me where she is,” Cordelia enunciated carefully. “She appears to have vanished, and I rather thought that was police business.”

“Vanished? If she’s vanished, she’s done it very recently. She was here till about six o’clock. And that’s only four hours ago.”

Suddenly, Cordelia felt foolish. “She was due home at eight o’clock. She hadn’t phoned by nine. I know that probably sounds nothing to you, but Lindsay’s got a real fetish about punctuality. She never fails to let me know if she’s not going to make it at a time she’s prearranged. Especially when we’ve not seen each other for a day or two.” Don’t dismiss me as a hysterical female, she pleaded mentally.

“You don’t think that you might be overreacting?”

“No. I believe she had some information concerning Rupert Crabtree’s death and the attack on Deborah that might have put her in danger. I’m scared, Superintendent. I’ve got a right to be.”

A spasm of emotion crossed his face. But his voice was cool. “Do you know what that information was?”

“Not in detail. But something to do with a computer tape, I believe.”

He nodded. “Okay. I think we may be a little premature here, but let’s make a few enquiries anyway.”

She expected him to dismiss her or summon a subordinate, but he picked up his phone and dialed an outside number. “Mrs. Crabtree?” He said. “Superintendent Rigano here. I’m sorry to trouble you. Is Simon there by any chance?… In London? When did he go, do you know?… Yesterday? I see. And you expect him back Saturday. Yes, a computer exhibition. I see. Do you know the number of his stand? You don’t? Never mind. No, it’s not urgent. Has anyone else been trying to contact him?… No? Fine, thanks very much. Sorry to have disturbed you. Good night.”

He clicked a pen against his teeth. Then he dialed an internal number. “ Davis? Get in here, lad,” he demanded. A moment later the door opened, and a plain clothes officer in shirtsleeves entered. “Where’s Stone?” Rigano asked him abruptly.

“I don’t know, sir. He rushed off about six, just before you went out. He’s not been back since.”

“What do you mean, he rushed off?”

“He came out of his room like a bat out of hell, sir, and ran out to the car park. He took off in that souped-up Fiesta of his.”

“Jesus,” Rigano swore softly. “I don’t believe this. Is his room locked, Davis?”

“I suppose so, sir. He always locks up after himself.”

“Okay. Get me the master key from the duty officer. I’m bloody tired of not knowing what’s going on in my own station.” The young officer looked startled. “Go on, lad, get it.” He departed on the double.

“What’s going on?” Cordelia asked.

“Sorry, can’t say,” he replied with an air of such finality that Cordelia couldn’t find the energy to challenge him. There was silence till Davis returned. Then the two men left the room together. Five interminable minutes passed before Rigano stormed back into the room. His fury was frightening, his face flushed a dark crimson. Ignoring Cordelia, he grabbed the phone, dialed a number and exploded into the phone, “Rigano here. I’m letting you know that I intend to lodge a formal complaint about Stone. Do you know he’s been bugging my office? Not only has he destroyed this force’s credibility over this whole investigation, but now he’s taking the law into his own hands.

“Listen, I have good reason to believe that someone could be in a situation of extreme prejudice thanks to this, and I’m not going to lie down and die any longer. You’ll be hearing from me formally in the morning.” He slammed the receiver down. His hands were trembling with the force of his rage.

The storm had done nothing to ease Cordelia’s growing fear. Rigano turned to face her and said carefully, “I’m not happy about it.” He sighed. “I wish to hell she’d listened to me. Is she always so damned headstrong?”

“Never mind the bloody character analysis. Where is she? Who is she with? She’s in some kind of trouble, isn’t she? What’s going on?” Cordelia almost shouted.

“Yes, she’s in trouble. Deep trouble.”

“Well, why are we sitting here? Why aren’t we doing something about it?”

“I’m going to get her,” he said decisively. “It’s going to cause all sorts of bloody aggravation. But I can’t leave her to stew. I can’t walk away from it. Miss Brown… I suggest you go home and try not to worry. She should be home by morning. If not, I’ll let you know.”

Cordelia could not believe her ears. “Oh no!” she exploded. “You don’t get rid of me like that. If you’re going to get Lindsay, I’m coming too. I will not be fobbed off with all this static. Either you take me along or I’m going to get on the phone to Lindsay’s boss and tell him she’s been kidnapped by one of your sidekicks. And everything else I know.”

“I can’t take you with me,” he said.

“I’ll follow you.”

“I’ll have you arrested if you try it.”

It seemed like stalemate. “I know about the tape,” said Cordelia. “I know where there’s a copy of the analysis of it, too,” she said, guessing wildly about Annie’s involvement. “Take me with you or the lot goes to Lindsay’s paper. Even if you arrest me, I get to make a phone call eventually. That’s all it’ll take. And just think what a story it’ll make-famous writer sues police for wrongful imprisonment.”

He shook his head. “There’s no point in all this blackmail, believe me. I give you my word, I’ll get her back to you.”

“That’s not good enough. Something’s going on here. And I can’t leave it in anyone else’s hands. It’s too important.”

He finally conceded, too worn out to carry on the fight. “All right. You can follow me. But you won’t be allowed to come in.”

‘Why? Where the hell are you going? Where is she?”

“GCHQ Cheltenham, I think.”

“What?”

It was nearly midnight when they reached the main gates of the intelligence complex. As Rigano instructed, Cordelia parked as unobtrusively as possible about quarter of a mile from the brightly lit gate. She watched as Rigano drove up and, after five minutes, was admitted. Tearing irritably at the cellophane on the packet of cigarettes she’d bought at a petrol station en route, Cordelia prepared herself for a long vigil. Rigano wasn’t exactly her idea of the knight in shining armour. But he was all she’d got.

The chirrup of the telephone broke the stalemate in the smoky room. Lindsay was grateful for the note of normality it injected into what had become a completely disorientating experience. Harriet Barber frowned and picked it up. “Barber here,” she said coolly. A puzzled look crossed her face and she turned to Stone, handing him the phone. “You’d better deal with this,” she ordered.