Page 8 of The Final Vow

‘A lanky prick called Alastor Locke.’

Flynn put her head in her hands and said, ‘Oh, Lord.’

‘I have no idea what Mr Locke said,’ Spiggens said.

‘Maybe you can ask the lanky prick himself, Timothy,’ a voice said.

It was the guy who’d been hiding behind a copy ofThe Times.

‘Hello, Poe,’ Locke said, making a show of folding his newspaper and slipping it into his briefcase. ‘It’s been a while. And yes, Idoremember what I said.’

‘What was it, Alastor?’ Spiggens asked.

‘I said, “I’m sure we’ll manage.”’ Locke spread his arms. ‘It seems I may have been a bit too nippy on the buzzer.’

Chapter 7

Flynn grabbed Poe’s arm. Told him to stay calm without saying anything. He shrugged her off and got to his feet. He walked around the table and stood behind Locke. Locke turned to face him. He didn’t appear concerned. The corner of his mouth lifted.

‘What can you smell, Alastor?’ Poe said.

Locke wafted his hand under his nose, like he was sniffing a fine wine. ‘My dear boy, you appear to smell of fish.’

Poe reached up and tugged his ragged beard. ‘And what’s this?’

‘I assume that’s rhetorical?’

‘Riddle me this,’ Poe said. ‘Who spends his life at sea but isn’t a fisherman?’

Locke smiled politely. Didn’t answer.

‘Do you know what I was doing’ – Poe checked his watch – ‘not four hours ago?’

‘DCI Flynn says you were heroically, and no doubt singlehandedly, protecting these fair shores from those who would do us harm.’

Poe took a breath. ‘Wrong. Four hours ago, I had my hand so far up a halibut’s arsehole it was like I was reaching for a bingo ball.’

‘Eloquently put, as ever, Poe,’ Locke said.

‘And the reason I was doing this was because you screwed me over. You screwedeveryoneover. I should have been on this from day one. Not seventeen bodies later.’

‘Nevertheless, we’re asking for your help now.’ His eyes had turned steely and his voice had an edge. Locke wasn’t somepolitical lacky, he was a hard-nosed spy. He wasn’t going to take Poe’s shit forever.

‘Well you can’t have it,’ Poe said. ‘It’s too late now. Too much evidence has been lost and whoever is doing this has got too good. No offence to the guys investigating, but he isn’t going to get caught. He’ll stop when he decides to stop.’

‘No offence taken, Poe,’ Mathers said. ‘We’re nowhere.’

‘And I warned you this would happen, Alastor,’ Poe said, his voice as flat and cold as Locke’s. ‘I fucking warned you.’

‘You were very clear, Poe,’ Locke admitted.

‘I said SCAS was the last line of defence, the contingency you hoped you’d never have to use.’

‘You did.’

‘I’m not even talking about me,’ Poe said. ‘I’m a good detective but so are five hundred other cops. Two of them are in this very room. DCI Flynn is better than me and . . . I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know what rank you are now.’

‘I’m a commander, Poe.’