Hidden Power Page 13

  Trust? Well, he must have trusted her to offer her that sort of opening. Kate responded by reaching for the menu. It was a good job it was Earnshaw’s treat. Or at least Devon and Cornwall Constabulary’s treat. Not that the amount of information she was passing back was enough to justify the latter. Not unless the stuff rescued from the shredder was worth having. It’d be nice to know, wouldn’t it?

  ‘They say they’ll want me to go and sit again,’ she said.

  ‘And if they do, I’m going too,’ Craig said swiftly. ‘You won’t be doing the ironing for a flyer, not if I have anything to do with it.’

  ‘Will you be doing it then, while I’m playing board games with the kids?’

  ‘I don’t see why he shouldn’t go with you one day, my dear,’ Knowles said. ‘Things’ll have to be a lot better before he does Vernon’s trying to get me extra hours, because he knows I need the money. And the other day he was afraid Craig might be into domestic violence.’

  ‘I’m not having you broadcast our business to every Tom, Dick—’

  ‘If everything was right between us, I wouldn’t be so desperate for extra hours, would I? I want him to trust me, so I do all his chores—including emptying the stuff for the shredder, and, with a bit of luck, using his computer.’

  ‘Computer? That’s a bit of a move for a cleaner!’ Knowles objected.

  ‘He knows about my CLAIT course—and I’ve had to help him out a time or two, when he’s been stuck. As an expression of gratitude he says I can use the swimming pool after work. He was a bit afraid of what the apartment owners would think about it. I might take him up on the offer tomorrow.’

  ‘Swimming!’ Craig spat. Knowles asked, ‘You’re hoping to talk to owners, are you, Kate?’

  ‘I can’t think why she hasn’t questioned other people working on the site. I said I should—’

  Kate interrupted, ‘I haven’t seen anyone else working on the site. I’m the only office cleaner. The clerical women are agency. I wonder if that’s their policy—good old divide and rule. It’d be really good if Mrs Mole could talk to you about it. And find out why there’s such a high turnover generally.’

  ‘I’m sure Ratty or Toad will, if she doesn’t,’ Knowles laughed, jotting in a tiny notebook.

  ‘It’d make playing Hunt the Thimble a hell of a lot easier. Actually, it’d help me even more to know what the thimble is.’ She’d gone too far. She knew even as the words were out of her mouth she shouldn’t have said them. Craig should have told her, shouldn’t he? She’d just dropped him in it. She scrabbled to retrieve the situation. ‘In a little more detail than I’ve got,’ she added.

  There was a distinct silence at their table. But perhaps it went unnoticed wasn’t it amazing how much noise other people could make over Sunday drinks? Knowles, flushed with anger, though whether this was at her or at Craig she couldn’t tell, opened his mouth to speak but shut it as a waitress came to take their orders.

  ‘You’ve seen the seafood menu? On blackboards round the wall in the bar?’ she prompted; ‘Oh, you should, before you choose. Go on,’ she urged ‘I’ll come back in five minutes’ She smiled and headed off to another table.

  Craig reached for Kate’s wrist. ‘People like us don’t eat fancy stuff, remember. You have a steak and like it.’

  ‘Let the girl make up her own mind,’ Knowles said, in the weak tone of a man not going to follow up his suggestion.

  ‘Off you go, my love—you can tell me what I ought to try.’

  Earnshaw pulled herself to her feet and set off as if only the blackboards stood between her and starvation. ‘Look at that fish! And the seafood. Yes, I shall go for the chicken with prawns and grape sauce. What’s this,’ she added more quietly, ‘about not eating fancy stuff?’

  ‘I keep forgetting I’m C2 at best,’ Kate admitted. ‘And much as I’d love a seafood salad, maybe he’s right. Not that they’ll be checking on every morsel I order, every dress I buy. But it’s all too easy to step out of role. Not just my walk’—she flashed an apologetic grin at the older woman—‘but my vocabulary, sentence structure, everything If my boss walked in here—big if, but you never know—and saw me eating anything exotic, he might just put that eccentricity alongside all my other eccentricities and do the right sums! But I do fancy that crab and smoked salmon salad.’

  ‘Compromise,’ Earnshaw said briskly. ‘In food as in everything else. Have crab as a starter and steak and chips for your main course. When we’ve ordered, we’ll go to the ladies’. OK?’

  ‘So what’s this about not being properly briefed?’ Earnshaw asked, setting the hand-drier a-roar. ‘OK, I know you were half asleep when I drove you-down. But Craig should have filled you in twice over. Why didn’t you ask him?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have said that: he’ll kill me.’

  Earnshaw leant back on the washbasin. ‘You seem to have got into cowed-mode already! You do it pretty well, too. Tell me, is he really as violent as he seems? Or is he just a fucking good actor?’

  For answer, Kate rolled up her sleeve.

  ‘Hmph. Anything else?’

  ‘Let’s just say, I’d prefer you not to touch my nose.’

  ‘He’s taking all this a bit too seriously, then? But not enough to tell you all you need to know?’

  ‘To be honest, I didn’t know how to ask him without him flying off the handle.’

  They heard the outer door open, and Kate was already applying lipstick before the inner one admitted a smart-looking woman about Kate’s age. The colour was just not quite right for Kate, and she suspected the make didn’t suit her skin her lips seemed permanently dry.

  ‘So you see, Ma,’ Kate added clearly, ‘I do my best, and though he’s your son and that I just don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to cope.’

  ‘He touches you again, Kate, he’ll have me to deal with. And Dad. He thinks as much of you as if you were our own. You know that.’

  Kate looked at her feet, swallowing hard. ‘Thanks, Ma. But maybe it’ll be all right.’

  The meal went as well as could be expected, and Kate had to admit that her steak was excellent. It would have been outstanding had it been rare, not the medium Craig insisted she always had. As it was, she enjoyed it. Fresh vegetables, good chips: yes, she’d really enjoyed it. But she ate meat so rarely these days she was so full she truly couldn’t manage a sweet, despite everyone’s urgings. All she did with the ice cream Craig shoved in front of her was push it around the dish. And she stuck with ordinary coffee, despite the dazzling list of liqueur coffees.

  Good job. Craig thrust the car keys at her and ordered Caribbean for himself. Was that what louts would drink? She wasn’t at all sure.

  ‘So what did you tell Earnshaw, when you were having your nice girlie chat?’ Craig demanded unpleasantly, gripping her wrist as she tried to fasten her seatbelt.

  ‘How hard it was to stay in role. That I didn’t like the role. That you were overplaying your role. But they’d seen that anyway. And if you don’t let go they’ll be coming over to see why I’m not starting the car and heading for what is laughingly called home.’

  He flung her away. ‘There you go again! What is laughingly called home. You just listen to yourself. You’re not Kate Potter, you’re Kate Power, and what a miserable, snotty-nosed bitch she is.’

  ‘And you? Are you an Oscar-winning actor or just a vicious yob? You ease up on the violence, Craig, or I’m off this case and back to Birmingham before you can say knife. And I shall put in a full written report to Knowles and my boss—’

  ‘The one you’re fucking? The one who’s too busy to come down because he’s fucking some other bitch ready to open her legs for promotion?’

  ‘Shut up or get out.’

  ‘“Shut up or get out!”’ he mimicked. ‘Don’t you come the hoity-toity with me, Kate Power—or it’d be worth doing time just to wipe that smirk off your face.’

  Chapter 14

  Clearly there wasn’t room in the house for the two o
f them, not until their tempers were better under control Kate parked in the driveway. Without speaking, she retrieved her bike from the garage, then stowed the car. At least it wasn’t raining now, though the roads would be mucky. It was a shame she had to change into waterproofs and use the loo before she set off, but Craig was already flicking TV channels and took no notice.

  Inland or the coast? Whichever way she went, the roads would be busy. No, she wouldn’t fancy meeting Sunday drivers on some of the narrow Dartmoor roads. So how about doing something really touristy, going to Brixham and feeding the gulls? Going for local knowledge, she made what she soon realised was a mistake, taking the A3022 through Torquay and Paignton, rather than nipping round the outskirts of the town on the A380. Torquay—or was it Paignton by now?—went on for miles, a sort of Birmingham on Sea, despite the magnificent looking hotels. Did people ever pay the sort of room-rates needed to support such ostentation or did they simply hop on a plane and go to the French, as opposed to the English, Riviera? She snorted: from the average age of both drivers and pedestrians, she could see why the place had acquired another nickname—Costa Geriatrica. But here she was at last, plunging down into Brixham. Consciously virtuous, she found a slot in a multi-storey car park, and headed down to the harbour. But not to feed the gulls. There were notices everywhere forbidding it. She’d have paid to explore a modern replica of the Golden Hind, but a wedding party was just boarding By now the sun was warm, and, having seen all there seemed to be of the town, Kate looked at her OS map again. How about Berry Head? A good cliff-top breeze would blow away her residual bad temper. Not a lot of point, after all, in being in a foul mood if the object of your anger wasn’t there.

  As she parked, locking her wet-weather gear into a pannier, she even managed a laugh. In the Smoke and up in Brum there’d been standard police jokes about the sort of car drug dealers used flash Audis with tinted windows were almost a stereotype. One would hardly be remarked in Brixton or Handsworth. But here, in rural Devon, on an SSSI to boot, the one in front of her eyes stuck out as if it had beacons on it She could hardly stake it out on her Honda. More to the point, it was none of her business. All she was now was an office cleaner who was good with kids But she jotted down the number—yes, it was a Birmingham one—before setting off briskly towards the headland, the wind gusting fiercely in her face Catharsis: that was what this was. Another word Kate Potter wouldn’t know, of course.

  She still hadn’t been briefed, of course. The ladies’ loo was hardly the place for an up-date. Worryingly, Earnshaw hadn’t made any arrangements to talk to her. If Earnshaw were to phone her, the chances were that Craig would ‘forget’ to pass on any message. If he dared. She had a strong feeling he’d nearly acted his way out of a job over lunch. Of course, he still had access to Earnshaw, while she didn’t, so he could go and plead. No. No point in thinking about Craig and Co.

  Oh, if only she’d had a kite! What a day this would have been for flying it. All around her families were fighting to control bobbing, diving, weaving shapes: there’d be some tears tonight if small hands weren’t strong enough. She battled her way closer to the promontory, pausing to scan the information boards: pity they were so weather-worn they were virtually unreadable. But there was enough legible to tell her that she was in the grounds of a fort built to house Napoleonic prisoners of war. Like the prison up in Princeton. Which prime site would she have preferred to be trapped in? Well, despite the gale, despite the thunder of the ocean on the cliffs, she rather thought here. Especially if you were let out from time to time to look at the jewel of a coastline—rather tarnished by endless coastal strip development these days. She pressed on, educating herself in a barn-type building with an exhibition giving an account in words and pictures of how man had shaped the place. And someone else had made the same choice for being immured: an official nuclear shelter had been sunk just behind her.

  She was still laughing when she emerged to find herself staring Elly and Peter in the face. She fell into step with them as far as their parents, fifteen yards away.

  ‘So it was your little Honda,’ Gary declared. ‘I told you, didn’t I? What are you doing here, Kate?’

  ‘Just having a bit of a blow,’ she said. She’d had fifteen yards to think of something plausible and this was the best she could come up with? ‘Walking Off Sunday lunch, too,’ she added. ‘My parents-in-law, bless them, don’t think they’ve fed you unless you can hardly get off the chair. And today they took us for a pub lunch.’

  ‘So your partner’s…?’ Julie looked around.

  ‘Oh, he’s sleeping it off. I prefer a nice brisk walk. Always have.’

  ‘So you get on all right with his parents?’ Gary asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. Golden, they are. Anyway, he’ll be waking up and wondering where his tea is. Best be getting back.’

  ‘We’re just going to have a pot of tea and a scone—’

  ‘And ice cream!’

  ‘—and an ice cream! Care to join us?’ Julie asked. She was looking better than yesterday, though maybe it was just the wind whipping colour into her cheeks.

  ‘That’s ever so kind of you. But’—she checked her watch, wrinkling her nose—‘but I really ought to be going. Thanks all the same.’

  But as she turned, the family turned with her, one child to her right, the other to her left.

  ‘When are we going to play “Sorry” again?’ Peter demanded.

  ‘And have some more Milly-Molly-Mandy’ Elly asked.

  ‘Oh, one of these days.’ After all, it wasn’t up to her, was it?

  ‘Soon, I hope,’ Julie said. ‘Now, look, the café’s only a step away—you really should have a cup of tea and a scone with us Tell that man of yours where he gets off.’

  Kate stared at the ground, genuinely torn Half of her told her that the more she engaged with a man whom her superiors wanted watching, spying on, the better. The other half reminded her of the constant danger of going undercover: the growth of real friendships between the officers and those they were one day going to have to testify against in court She’d even heard of officers falling in love with their quarry. At least that wasn’t on the cards But she liked the Vernons enough for friendship to be a distinct possibility. She braced herself. She must reject the chance of half an hour’s fun with the kids in favour of staying in the role of cowed woman afraid what would happen if she were late with her man’s food She hoped the struggle showed in her face. Let it show a bit more.

  ‘I’d better not. Really. No point in stirring things up, is there? I’m sorry,’ she added to the children. ‘Another day, promise. See you tomorrow, then, Mr Vernon.’ And since she could hardly use his wife’s first name if she didn’t use his, she merely smiled awkwardly at Julie and muttered, ‘Bye.’

  So what was Knowles’s Rover doing outside the house when she got back? She didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed. Craig might be calm and polite in his seniors’ presence, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take it out on her later. She shuddered She could walk out tonight if she wanted, and to hell with her CV How many women were suffering exactly the same anxieties, without her escape route.

  Knowles looked up sternly when she came in. ‘A bit casual about time, aren’t you, Power?’

  ‘I didn’t know I had to be in time for anything, Sir.’

  ‘I told her in the car. She was too busy sounding off to listen,’ Craig obliged. ‘Six, I told you, Kate. Not twenty to seven.’

  ‘Sounding off about what?’ Kate asked, wishing Earnshaw were there too.

  ‘The usual stuff.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Me.’

  Wrong-footed, she tried to recover. ‘And which aspect in particular?’

  ‘Listen to her! She can’t hack it, can she? Gets it wrong every time. Always your bloody university graduate with a plum in her mouth!’

  ‘She is off duty, Craig.’

  Craig? Compare and contrast with Power.

  ‘I didn’t think th
ere was such a thing as off duty if you were under cover, Guv.’

  Arse-licker. Kate said, as smoothly as she could, ‘As far as I know, Sir, Craig and I didn’t exchange any words at all during the drive back here. If we did, and he told me to be here, I can only apologise. Has he made you tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee would be good, please.’

  ‘Craig?’

  ‘OK.’

  She had a nasty suspicion that Knowles was the sort of man who would prefer domestic charms even in an officer tough enough to be undercover. She spread a clean tea towel on their only tray, and fished out a selection of biscuits she’d had the foresight to store in a jar marked ‘Flour’, arranging them prettily on a dinner plate. While they had no cups and saucers, only mugs, she made sure there was a plate to lay dirty spoons on and sugar and milk in the matching set. Oh, and individual plates for the biscuits. There. It wouldn’t do any harm to make them wait even longer, while she changed her scruffy jeans and sweatshirt for more presentable versions. It would take only as long as the kettle took to boil. OK, brushing the hair and slapping on some lipstick added a couple Of minutes, but all in all she thought the improvement justified the delay. The sooner she got him back into role the better, too, so the first thing she said, as she carried through the tray, was, ‘Call us paranoid, Sir, but Craig and I reckon these walls are so thin we—usually have music on and try to maintain our “relationship”.’

  ‘Such as it is.’

  ‘OK, Craig. Well, Kate, your—your mother reckons you’re dissatisfied with the way we’ve briefed you—are you making a formal complaint?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, of course not. I’m just asking to have my darkness lightened a little. So I know exactly what I’m supposed to be looking for So I don’t miss it when I see it.’

  ‘I told you, Kate, we’re looking at money-laundering here.’ Craig sounded as bored as if he’d repeated the information times beyond number.