Nothing Else Remains by Robert Scragg

Author:Robert Scragg [Robert Scragg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749023980
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2019-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

‘Do you think I’m stupid, Porter?’

Honesty would definitely not be the best policy here. ‘No, sir, of course not.’

‘Then why go and do the opposite of what I asked?’

‘Sir?’ Porter’s face was a mask of innocence.

‘You know damn well what I mean. I want you in that OHU session, I want it this week, and if you walk out again, I’ll speak to the IOPC myself, and that won’t end well for you.’

Porter chewed the inside of his lip. Stayed silent, even though every inch of him wanted to reach across, staple Milburn’s tie to the desk, feel crunching cartilage on fist.

‘Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Porter, words pushed out past gritted teeth.

Milburn stared him out, waiting for Porter to blink or look away, but Porter held it. Waited him out. Willed even a fraction of his dislike for Milburn to register. If it did, Milburn didn’t show it. Too far up his own arse to acknowledge that people saw him in anything other than a positive light.

‘I’ll be checking in with OHU on Thursday. That’ll be all.’

Milburn looked away from Porter, at whatever was on his laptop screen, but Porter stayed put, cleared his throat.

‘There is one other thing, sir.’

Milburn gave him a stern look, the kind reserved for a kid on the naughty step who’s just asked for sweets.

Porter ran him through last week’s events, the trip to AMT, and finished with the two cars currently keeping an eye on Leyson and Baxter. Milburn scowled at the last part.

‘So basically, what you’re saying is that, without my say-so, you’ve authorised hundreds of pounds of overtime to babysit two people, in a case where we have no credible leads, no sense of what’s actually going on, and no suspects even if we did?’

Porter opened his mouth to speak, but Milburn cut him short.

‘First the fiasco with Patchett, now this. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t stick you on a desk while we wait for the IOPC to come after you.’

‘Because we’re getting enough bad press already, sir.’

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

Men like Milburn responded best to self-interest, so why not give him a healthy dose. ‘Every other name on that list is missing, sir. The two that are left are our best chance of figuring this out. I can’t imagine it’d sit well with the press if it got out that someone was targeting them, and we sat back and watched, all for the sake of saving a few pennies.’

Milburn’s mouth twisted. He was all about the image. Porter was sick of hearing his mantra about the public image of policing – perception is reality. The press wouldn’t care that they had no clue about what was actually happening. They’d swarm like piranhas, tearing strips off the Met, and Milburn by proxy, crying out that money was more important than public safety. The kind of thing that would hit Milburn where it hurt: his ego.

‘You should still have cleared it with me first,’ he said finally.

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