Luke Delaney - The Rule of Fear

King took a deep breath before answering. ‘I appreciate the offer, Frank – but I need the streets. Walking around out there in uniform makes me feel … makes me feel good. I missed it, you know. I need it.’

Marino gently let go of his arm. ‘OK then. Good luck, but if you’re not ready, or if you change your mind once you’re back out there – you’re welcome back here any time.’

‘Thanks,’ he replied. ‘Anyway, mustn’t keep Superintendent Gerrard waiting.’

‘No. Of course not,’ Marino agreed and watched King head off across the office.

King walked so fast through the station that several times he almost broke into a jog, nodding quick hellos to people he knew and some he didn’t until he’d climbed to the top floor of the station and reached Gerrard’s door. He took a deep breath and knocked, resting his hand on the handle in anticipation of a swift reply. He wasn’t disappointed as almost immediately he heard Gerrard’s voice calling him inside.

As soon as he entered he was greeted by the usual sight of Gerrard sitting straight-backed behind his desk as Inspector Joanne Johnston stood to the side. Jack knew it would be Gerrard doing the talking, but was in little doubt who was really in charge. Johnston had a fearsome reputation as being a ruthless self-promoter destined for the top – prepared to stab anyone in the back who got in her way, including Gerrard. Her appearance was, as ever, immaculate; her uniform tailored at her own expense to best show off her athletic, thirty-three-year-old body, her brown hair cut into a short pixie style to best frame her pretty face. Looks that had already lulled more than a few male colleagues to drop their guard only to be crushed. A reputation that had already earned her the nickname of the ‘Poisonous Pixie’ at Bramshill Staff College.

‘Ah, Jack,’ Gerrard smiled. ‘Please take a seat.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ King replied, sitting in one of the two chairs that faced Gerrard.

Gerrard looked down at the obligatory file that lay open on his desk and then back to King, looking as serious as King could remember seeing him. ‘Inspector Johnston and I were just having a chat with HR about yourself – going over your latest medical reports, psychological reports, that sort of thing – something we need to do before considering anyone for full duties. Fortunately it’s not like the old days when we’d have just patched you up and slung you back out on the streets. Times have changed. Things have moved on – for the better.’

King didn’t agree. Being patched up and slung out sounded perfect to him. Talking to psychiatrists hadn’t taken away his nightmares, but perhaps the streets could. ‘I understand,’ he managed to reply.

‘However,’ Gerrard smiled again, ‘having taken everything into consideration, we have decided to allow you to return to full duties.’

King felt his heart soar with excited relief, but his stomach knotted with anxiety. He told himself it was nothing – that it was to be expected after everything that had happened . Gerrard must have seen something in his face.

‘Are you all right, Jack?’ he asked.

He recovered quickly. ‘Sorry, yes, I’m fine. Just excited.’

‘Good,’ Gerrard beamed again. ‘Now, having completed your sergeants’ course while recovering on light duties, you’ll no doubt be looking for more of a leadership role.’

It hadn’t been something King had thought about – other people to look after as well as himself – but it wasn’t enough of a fly in the ointment to put him off returning to the streets. ‘Ideally,’ he lied.

‘Excellent,’ Gerrard told him, ‘because there’s something that’s come up that could be perfect.’

‘I’m listening,’ King encouraged him.

‘We’ve been having a lot of trouble on the Grove Wood Estate this past year or so and, try as they like, the Safer Neighbourhoods Team down there can’t seem to get to grips with it. So we,’ Gerrard glanced at Johnston, ‘have decided to try something new.’

‘Such as?’ King asked impatiently.

‘We’ve decided to dedicate three constables to the estate on a permanent basis, or at least until they’re no longer required. All have exceptional records and are known for their, shall we say, no-nonsense approach to policing. Your job, should you want it, would be to supervise the team and make sure they understand their parameters. We don’t expect you to be walking the beat day after day yourself; after all, you should now be working towards achieving the next rank as you are still very much part of the accelerated promotion scheme.’

‘I’d want to be out and about on the estate,’ King blurted out.

‘Then I take it you accept the position?’ Gerrard asked.

‘Of course,’ King insisted. ‘Sounds like fun.’

‘I’m sure it will be,’ Gerrard tried to play along, ‘but don’t lose sight of your ultimate career objectives. I see this as something to keep you out of harm’s way – until you move forward to the next rank.’

‘I don’t need to be kept out of harm’s way,’ he argued, suspicious of Gerrard’s intentions – fearful he and Johnston somehow doubted he was ready to return to the world outside.

‘Of course you don’t,’ Gerrard quickly agreed. ‘That’s not what I meant. What I mean is we need to keep you away from anything that could hinder your future prospects, such as unfounded complaints from the public, for example. They can drag behind your career like an anchor on a speed boat.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ he promised, ‘but I’ve only been in the job a couple of years. I’m not quite ready for being stuck in an office behind a desk.’

Gerrard cleared his voice and managed to remain smiling. ‘Well then, good. Good. Get out there and get it out of your system.’

‘Thank you, sir. I will,’ he assured them.

Gerrard grew serious again and appeared to look to Johnston for moral support before speaking, moving uncomfortably in his chair as Johnston looked on through her green eyes that shone with intelligence and ambition.

‘Terrible thing that happened to you,’ Gerrard finally spoke. ‘Terrible thing that you had to see.’ King just shrugged, dying inside at the thought of having to discuss it with two people he neither respected nor liked. ‘The young girl – the girl you saved – eventually spoke to the Murder Investigation Team. She confirmed it was her father who’d tried to kill her – who’d killed the rest of his family. The investigating officers discovered he suspected the mother of having an affair and feared she was going to leave him and take the children with her, so he decided better to kill them all. Turns out she wasn’t even seeing anyone else. He just imagined it.’

‘I know,’ King managed to say. ‘The investigation team told me before the trial.’

‘Yes,’ Gerrard said, sounding more melancholy than King had ever heard him. ‘I suppose they did. But after such a traumatic experience I was wondering how you felt – how you really felt? Never mind what you told the psychiatrist.’

‘I’m fine, sir. I just need to get back to work. Proper work.’

‘Very well,’ Gerrard smiled, seemingly satisfied. ‘As I’ve said, you’ll be taking care of the day-to-day running of the Unit and will report to Inspector Johnston here who’ll be overseeing things as a whole.’

‘Fine,’ King agreed, already rising from his chair, happy he’d heard everything he needed to before Johnston stopped him.

‘You’ve been working on the Crime Desk, I understand?’ Johnston finally spoke – her voice accentless and pleasantly toned. Designed to trap the unwary.

‘Yes,’ King confirmed, easing back into his chair.