Page 7 of The Final Vow (Washington Poe #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 screwed everyone over. 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 some political 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.’

‘And Commander Mathers is better than me.’

‘I think you do yourself a disservice, Poe,’ Locke said.

‘I don’t give a shit what you think,’ Poe said.

‘And the reason I don’t is that through good judgement or blind luck the team DCI Flynn put together had the kind of alchemy never seen before in law enforcement.

We were the envy of the world and that wasn’t down to me, and it wasn’t down to the boss, it was down to just one person.

A genius, a once-in-a-generation mind who for some reason wanted to put her extraordinary mind to catching serial killers instead of solving mathematical problems. And yes, she needed time to readjust to the new world she’d chosen to work in, but with a little help from me and DCI Flynn she quickly became SCAS’s golden goose.

The ace up our sleeve, our silver bullet, a thousand other clichés.

Within days, we were catching the kind of bad guys who never get caught.

The kind of bad guys you’re panicking over now.

But that wasn’t enough, was it? You wanted more.

So what did you do? You stole the golden goose for yourself.

’ He paused. Took a breath. ‘And then you ate it for fucking Christmas.’

‘Have you heard of the trolley problem, Poe?’

Poe said nothing. Concentrated on getting his breathing under control. He could feel another episode of PTSD-related violence coming on.

‘It’s one in a series of ethical thought experiments,’ Locke continued.

‘Imagine there’s a runaway trolley and five people are tied to the track.

If the trolley runs over them, all five will be killed.

But, and here’s the sharp kick to the ankle, there’s a lever that can be pulled to divert the trolley.

The problem is that on the new track there is one person who will be killed.

The ethical dilemma is whether it is morally wrong to do nothing and let five people die, or to intervene and sacrifice one “safe” person to save the rest.’

Poe considered that for a few beats. ‘You’re talking about the greater good,’ he said. ‘That the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’

‘A rather simplistic summary, but yes.’

‘Do you know how much evil shit has been done for the greater good? The Holocaust, Swiss eugenics, slavery .’

‘Yes, Poe, in your world of absolutes, I’m sure that’s how it must appear,’ Locke said.

He tilted his head. ‘But did you ever wonder why I took the actions I did? Because you’re quite correct, your beloved Serious Crime Analysis Section was doing extraordinary work.

Lives were being saved; justice was being done.

And yes, a significant part of that was down to one person, your so-called golden goose.

Despite this, I stole her from you. Do I appear reckless to you, Poe?

Because if things were as black and white as you say, surely only a reckless fool would have done as I did. ’

‘You’re either part of the solution or you’re part of the problem, Sergeant Poe,’ Spiggens said. ‘What’s it to be?’

‘Definitely part of the problem,’ Flynn said. ‘In fact, he usually makes things worse.’

‘Thanks, boss,’ Poe said. He turned to Locke.

‘I don’t think you’re reckless, Alastor.

I just think you see the world as your private chessboard.

You spend so much time manipulating your kings and queens, your bishops, knights and rooks, that you forget about the little people.

The pawns. They’re an afterthought. There only to justify your actions. ’

‘I think that might be enough, Poe,’ Flynn said.

A year ago, she’d have ordered him to stop. Today he reckoned she was silently cheering him on. He wasn’t the only person Locke had screwed over.

Locke held up his hand. ‘It’s fine, DCI Flynn,’ he said. ‘Tell me, Poe; has your golden goose ever told you about the work she’s been doing for me?’

Poe shook his head. Wondered why he was engaging with Locke at all. ‘She won’t tell me anything.’

‘And I won’t betray her confidence now,’ he said.

‘But please be assured that hundreds of lives have been saved. Ordinary lives. Your pawns. So, did I take your prize asset? Yes. Have people died at the hands of those you might have caught? Possibly, probably even. But the big question is – and considering where we are now, it’s not as easy to answer as it once would have been – would I do the same again?

’ He held Poe with a look like a beartrap. ‘You bet your bloody life I would.’

He took off his glasses and began polishing them. Poe thought he looked much older than the last time they’d met. He seemed tired. His hair was greyer.

‘But I’m not here to convince you to help,’ he continued. ‘I know you well enough to know you won’t be able to get past what I did. You’re far too recalcitrant to forgive and forget.’

‘He’s an arsehole,’ Flynn confirmed.

‘Whose side are you bloody on?’ Poe said.

‘The same side you used to be on! The public’s side. And in case you haven’t noticed what’s going on out there, it’s chaos. Never mind that dickhead’s the-economy-is-stagnating bigger picture bullshit – real people are suffering.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ Poe said. ‘But I meant what I said: we should have been in at the start. If our shooter was going to make a mistake, it would have been when he was starting. He’s too good at this now.’

‘We give up, is that it?’

‘ We don’t do anything, DCI Flynn. There is no we . We had a unit singularly equipped for events like this and now we don’t.’ He jabbed his finger in Locke’s direction. ‘Blame him, not me.’

‘This is getting us nowhere,’ Spiggens said. He reached forward and pressed the intercom. ‘Please, send her in.’

‘Right away, sir.’

‘If we can’t make you see reason, perhaps she can.’

‘Who?’ Poe said.

The door opened and a thin bespectacled woman entered.

She was clutching some papers and looked like the physical manifestation of the word ‘bookworm’.

She was bright and she was silly and she was brave and loyal and everything that was good.

Her name was Tilly Bradshaw and she was Poe’s favourite person in the world.

‘I’m not sure I like everyone comparing me to a goose, Poe,’ she said. ‘They’re particularly dumb birds.’

Poe stared in astonishment. Bradshaw grinned back.

‘Have you missed me?’ she said.