Implant (DI Gardener 3)

When the drinks were delivered, Reilly started the tapes and introduced everyone.

Pollard glanced at Gardener. “I thought you were the senior officer.”

“I am.”

“So why aren’t you interviewing me?”

“Does it make any difference? Would you prefer me?”

“Anything’s better than him,” answered Pollard.

“Well, he’s all you’ve got. Today, I’m on listening duty. You’d be surprised how much you learn when you don’t say anything.”

Pollard sighed.

“How do you earn a living, son?” asked Reilly.

“What?”

“Don’t mess me about, Pollard. I was pretty fed up with you evading questions yesterday. It’s not going to happen today. I want an answer.”

“It’s not relevant, so I’m not going to tell you,” said Pollard, smiling. “Not without my brief.”

Both officers rose immediately and walked towards the door, to the annoyance of Pollard.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“See you in the morning.” Reilly opened the door.

“Wait,” shouted Pollard. “Okay, okay, perhaps I was a little hasty.”

Reilly had had enough. He slammed the door and marched over to the table so fast that Pollard shrank back and nearly fell over his seat.

“Game over, sunshine. We’re conducting this interview my way. Just one more snide comment like that, and we’re out of here until your brief shows up, and you can shout all you like about civil rights because no one will be listening.”

Reilly and Gardener sat down.

“Answer the question!”

“I’m a legitimate businessman.”

“Where do you think you are, Jackie lad? The Apprentice?”

“What?” Pollard replied.

“This is not national television. We’re not asking that question so we can give you a loan and set you up in business on your own. You’re in a shit load of trouble, so you are.”

Gardener threw Pollard’s diaries on the table, but didn’t say anything.

“So tell me, Jackie lad, what are these?”

“Where the hell did you get them? Have you searched my house without a warrant?”

Reilly ignored him and continued.

“We’ve had a good look at these, and we’re not quite sure what to make of them. We can think of one thing. It looks like a protection racket. Maybe you’re not involved in drugs like we first thought. Maybe you’re running a nice little earner by intimidating people. You get money out of them, and you leave their businesses alone. Only, we can’t quite figure out where Hobson and Knight fit in.”

“You’re way off the mark, Irishman. By the time I’ve finished with you two, you’ll need the solicitor, not me.”