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chapter twenty-nine

It was long past the end of her shift, but Gabriella had been persuaded to wait in Mr. Greenberg’s office, and so she was standing in front of his map when James knocked on her boss’s door.

Mr. Greenberg rose from behind his desk and came round to shake James’s hand. “Terrible business, what happened to Gabriella,” Mr. Greenberg said. “But the one thing that has put my mind at ease is that she was able to discover no one in this office shared her route. She was being followed by a cyclist employed by Mr. Tanner.”

“That’s his name?” Gabriella asked, surprised.

“Yes, sorry, I forgot to tell you DS Archer found out his name during the course of his investigation.” Mr. Greenberg gave James a satisfied smile. “I am going to let the Commissioner know how pleased I am with the quality of the investigation into this,” he said. “It’s very heartening to know the Met takes threats to the Traffic Warden division seriously.”

Gabriella caught her lower lip with her teeth. Would they have, though, if she and James weren’t stepping out, as Liz called it?

“Of course,” James told him. “I’ve had bobbies keeping an eye out for him in this area since you called me about Tanner’s interaction with Miss Farnsworth earlier, but there’s been no sightings. I think he’s gone, but I’m going to get Miss Farnsworth’s statement at the Met, and then make sure she’s escorted home.”

“Good man.” Mr. Greenberg beamed.

James indicated the map on the wall. “I have to say how impressed I am by this, sir.” He stepped closer. “It really gives a great perspective on things.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Greenberg rocked back on his heels. “Helps me to see if there are problem areas.”

“The red are deaths?” James asked. “And the yellow?”

“The yellow are attacks on my wardens.” Mr. Greenberg tapped the pin on the street near Holland Park where Gabriella’s final confrontation with Tanner had occurred.

“Very helpful. Can I ask where you got the map? I would like to set something like this up for myself.” James pulled out his notepad, and Mr. Greenberg gave him the details.

When they walked out to the Wolseley, Gabriella thought James had made a friend for life with her boss.

When they were both inside the car, James turned to her. “Tell me.”

She knew Mr. Greenberg had not given him a lot of detail, but had assured James she was fine. She supposed if the tables were turned, she’d have been worried, too.

“You remember the electrified Land Rover?” she asked.

He gave a slow nod.

“While I was running from Tanner, I saw it. I rolled underneath it, and he got down on his haunches to grab me and pull me out, and put his hand on the door.”

James blinked. “Pow?” he asked.

“Pow.” She knew her smile was slightly evil. “Gave me time to roll back out, and leg it.”

“But the cyclist still came after you?” James must have heard that from Mr. Greenberg as well.

“Tanner was obviously not up to running after me, so he sent his lackey, but the bloke didn’t really seem to know about Tanner waving guns around or anything like that.” She recalled the surprise on the cyclist’s face. “He pled Tanner’s case again—for me to drop the charges against him—and when I told him it wasn’t up to me, that he’d threatened a police officer with a gun, he left, looking pretty confused.”

“Well, Tanner can’t stay in the wind forever. We’ve sealed his office with a notice telling him to turn himself in, and I think he’ll probably do that soon.” James wove carefully through the late afternoon traffic, and when he turned through the imposing gates of New Scotland Yard, she felt like she was entering a castle.

He parked, and when she reached for her door handle, he put a hand on her arm. “I want to hold you,” he said. His gaze lifted and focused beyond her shoulder, and he sighed. “But that will have to wait.”

He released her, and when she turned to look out of her window, she saw two men approaching.

“Wait for me to open your door,” James said, and there was something tight in his voice that held her in place.

It wasn’t a gentleman thing, she realized. He wanted to intercept the men coming toward the car. He got out the car and intercepted the men, blocking their view of her, in a studied, casual way that made Gabriella worried.

These men were dangerous. And he didn’t want them to see her.

She slid a little way down in the car seat, keeping her gaze on what was happening.

James was bigger than both of the men. He was bigger than almost every one she knew except for maybe George and Melvin, and even then, he and George were probably close to the same size.

Melvin was in a class of his own.

Whatever the conversation was, it wasn’t friendly. One of the men’s hands fisted by his sides, and he threw down his cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe as if he’d like to be doing the same thing to James’s face.

James, on the other hand, moved as if he was simply passing the time of day. Then he looked at his watch, and whatever he said next had both men turning and stalking off.

James went back to the car and opened the boot, and Gabriella turned in her seat. He looked at her through the window on the rear door, and mouthed “Stay” before he pulled out a box, and did a complicated juggle to close the boot with one hand and keep hold of the box with the other.

Finally, he came round to her door and gave a nod, and she opened it and stepped out.

“What was that?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I didn’t want them seeing you. They are not nice men, and if things happen the way I’m planning for them to happen, I don’t want them looking your way, for any reason whatsoever.”

She wanted to ask more, but she guessed this was to do with Whetford, and James’s plan to extricate Hartridge and himself from his clutches. The courtyard of New Scotland Yard probably wasn’t the place to ask about it.

“What are their names, in case I bump into them?” She’d rather know, and both had been wearing hats and coats, so she might not recognize them immediately.

“DS Galbraith and his partner, DC Bartholomew.” James led her across the courtyard to a door set in the back. “Never speak to them, and get away from them as fast as you can.”

She was curious as to why there was so much animus between James and the two men, but a few other officers passed them, coming the other way, and she swallowed her questions.

When they got to James’s office, DC Hartridge stepped out of a small room to the left of it, excitement on his face, which morphed into surprise at the sight of her.

“Miss Farnsworth.” He glanced over at James, and she saw he was holding a file in his hands.

“Tanner had another go at her,” James said, and Hartridge’s attention swung back to her.

“You all right?”

Before she could answer, the door at the far end of the corridor opened, and DI Whetford stepped through.

“Why don’t you take Miss Farnsworth’s statement about the incident,” James said to Hartridge. “I need to talk to the boss.”

Hartridge looked so relieved, Gabriella wondered again what on earth was going on here.

Hartridge stepped back into the small room he’d come out of, and inclined his head.

She glanced quickly at James, but his face was stony as he stepped out into the passageway to meet Whetford head on.

She followed Hartridge into the tiny office, and he shut the door behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, keeping her voice soft, but Hartridge just shook his head.

She played along, giving him all the details of the incident with Tanner, and even managed to smile with him when she described how she’d gotten him to shock himself.

All the while, she strained to hear what was being said outside, but the drone of voices never got loud enough to make anything out.

Whatever it was, she remembered James saying his job could be on the line, and she felt sick to her stomach that Whetford could win this unspoken battle between them. He had the power to push James out.

She wondered if Ben’s senior, the silk who’d taken on her case, would be interested in representing a DS from the Met. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that, but there was no harm in asking.