Full Dark House(82)
‘Greece?’ Biddle looked thrown. ‘No, sir.’
‘Last week some British soldiers got into a fight on a border checkpoint that they had no right to be on in the first place. It ended up with a local man being tortured and killed. The man was a Greek national suspected of collaborating with the Italians. When that happened, his family was shipped off and his private property was seized. The victim was probably innocent, but he was travelling without the right papers, and had bribed our boys to let him through. The British ambassador to Greece extradited the men, and the blame for the death was placed on an extremist Turkish national group. There have been quite a few violent incidents in Greece inspired by Turkish national activity, and relations between the two countries are poor. Meanwhile, we have a British building programme going on in Istanbul. Is this starting to make sense to you?’
Biddle stared furiously at his hands. ‘No, it isn’t.’
‘Let me spell it out. The Orpheus production company is owned by the son of a Greek shipping magnate, and has its headquarters in Athens. The closest thing we have to a suspect is an illegal immigrant who happens to be a Turk. What will the Foreign Office’s position be if it can be proved that a powerful Greek company deliberately framed an innocent Turk for murder?’
‘You’re telling me that this is about keeping building contracts in Istanbul?’ asked Biddle.
‘Add to this mix a powerful Austrian with Mosleyite connections in London, a man whose only daughter has died in mysterious circumstances, and a theatrical production, of all things, that simultaneously demonstrates international solidarity and co-operation while challenging the nation’s moral dignity. Is it any wonder that the matter is attracting attention in high places? You see, Biddle, you have to look at the broader picture. Four days and three murders on, we’re no further forward than when we started, so I’m going to handle the case in the manner I think fit. I know I’m an unlikely-looking subversive, but it’s people like me you have to watch out for. I won’t toe the party line and I don’t have to cover my back against losing a court case over technical irregularities—’
‘You’re talking about contaminated evidence, failure to observe—’
‘—because,’ Bryant cut across him, ‘our cases get solved before they ever reach a public court, something you’d have realized if you’d studied the unit’s history a little more thoroughly instead of worrying about logging procedures on trace evidence.’
He rose, bringing the meeting to an end. ‘Now you may want to reconsider your transfer. You seem like a smart chap. Put your talents to good use. Check out the spot where Darvell was butchered. Ask Runcorn about the blood patterns in the aisle. Forget the paperwork and get stuck in. That’s where you’ll be best used. Don’t let your ambitions pull you in the wrong direction. I know you asked Davenport down here today. But think about what I’ve said. You can let me have your answer by tomorrow morning.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Biddle, looking at Bryant as if he was mad, ‘but my mind is made up. I’m requesting a transfer from the unit at the first available opportunity.’
He’s angry that John saw action and he didn’t, thought Bryant suddenly. He wants to be out there rugby-tackling the villains. It was all he needed to understand to get Biddle back on track.
37
THE VOICE OF THE ABYSSINIAN
Arthur Bryant stood outside the café lost in thought as the rainwater slipped through its blast-damaged canopy, dripping onto the shoulders of his gaberdine. Some office girls dashed across the road with newspapers held over their heads. A taxi splashed past with a dirt-smudged child sitting on the running board. A tramp in a torn cardboard hat was carefully stepping in and out of a large puddle at the kerb, his head bowed in concentration. The safe canopy of inclement weather had brought life back to the night streets. Bryant checked his watch again, and decided to give Elspeth five more minutes.
Like Geoffrey Whittaker, Harry, Stan Lowe and Mr Mack, Elspeth belonged to a brigade of workers whose lives were lived in darkness, a perpetual night divided into sections that ran concurrently from one production to the next. Bryant was surprised how little they knew of the world beyond their own circle. They were the real theatre angels, happy to remain in the shadows beyond the footlights, only tangentially attached to the stage, essential to its survival.
He checked his watch again. She must have known that she’d be too busy to break for supper; that was why she had insisted on meeting him outside the café. She had not wanted to hurt his feelings by refusing him outright. He pulled his scarf a little tighter round his neck and sniffed the cold air. For a brief moment he thought he had been given a shot at finding himself a new girl. But it was clear where Elspeth’s loyalties lay. After repeatedly choosing work over women, he felt as though he was getting a taste of his own medicine.