‘You just asked who he was,’ explained Erika.
The situation felt tense. Gary looked between the two of them. ‘So, what are you two coppers doing here? You just having a drink in my local?’
‘There’s a lot of locals around here, Gary,’ said Crane.
‘Who’s your friend?’ asked Erika, as the man at the bar was paying for a round of drinks.
‘Business associate… Now, I’m gonna get back.’
‘Are you okay, Peter? Is everything okay?’ blurted Erika, looking at the listless little boy.
‘His dad’s just died. What a stupid fucking question,’ said Gary.
‘Hey, easy,’ said Crane.
‘I am going easy,’ said Gary. ‘Now, I’m going.’
He walked off, pulling Peter with him. Erika wanted to grab the little boy and take him out of there, but she knew it would be crazy. How could she explain taking him, without blowing a major undercover investigation?
Erika and Crane left the bar and came out into the sunshine. The tables on the terrace were now full. Erika recognised a tall, skinny, dark-haired man sitting with a thin woman who was hunched over her phone, texting. She was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt with thin straps. She had a prominent nose and fair hair scraped back into a ponytail. The man was pale, with an acne-scarred face, and his shoulder-length greasy black hair was combed back from his high forehead. He was wearing a plain T-shirt and beige shorts.
As they picked their way through the tables, Erika stayed ahead of Crane and made a beeline for them.
‘DCI Sparks?’ she said, when they approached the table.
‘DCI Foster,’ he said, looking surprised. The woman with him sat up and her eyes darted over to the pub window.
‘Day off? Having a drink?’ asked Erika, following the woman’s gaze.
‘Um, sort of,’ said Sparks. Crane caught up with Erika.
‘All right, Sparks, long time no see… Where are you based now?’ he asked.
‘Erm, I’m heading my own Murder Investigation Team, based out in North London,’ he said, looking between Erika and Crane. ‘This is DI Powell,’ he added. They all exchanged pleasantries.
‘Crane, would it be okay if I met you at the car?’ asked Erika.
‘Okay,’ said Crane. He gave Erika an odd look and then went off.
‘So, you’re both here, on a weekday, having a drink in South London, trying to look inconspicuous. Has it got anything to do with Gary Wilmslow?’ said Erika when Crane was out of earshot.
‘Excuse me, who are you?’ asked the woman.
‘DCI Erika Foster, an ex-colleague of Sparks here,’ said Erika, in a low voice. ‘You’ve got a couple of guys who are heavily involved with the production of child sex abuse videos in that pub, unsupervised with a small boy.’
‘We know…’ started the woman.
Sparks leaned over the table. ‘You need to turn around and walk away, Foster. This is covert surveillance.’
‘Operation Hemslow, yeah?’ said Erika.
A look passed between Sparks and Powell.
‘Yes. Erika. We’ve been drafted in for extra manpower,’ said Sparks, eyeing the pub windows. ‘Now you need to leave, before you blow our cover.’
‘Yeah, well, you two stick out like a sore thumb. Have you any idea how vulnerable that little boy is right now? Peter, his name is.’
‘We know. And if you don’t leave immediately, you’ll not only blow our cover, but I’ll make sure to speak to your senior officer,’ said Sparks.
Erika gave them a long look and then went off to the car.
‘What was all that about, boss?’ asked Crane, as she got in.
‘Nothing,’ said Erika. She was still shaking.
‘I haven’t seen Sparks since you got him chucked off the Andrea Douglas-Brown murder case… Not the best copper in the world, is he? Not what you’d call a details man.’
‘No, he isn’t,’ said Erika.
‘Was that his girlfriend?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘That figures. She’s a bit out of his league, although most women are,’ said Crane. ‘Anyway, we’ve got another positive ID on a woman at Gregory Munro’s place. I call that a result!’
‘Yeah,’ said Erika.
As they drove away, she thought of little Peter in there with Gary Wilmslow and his dark-haired ‘business associate’, and she felt powerless.
43
The next evening, after a long week at work, Isaac Strong lay on his sofa with Stephen Linley. He had just cooked a meal for them both, to celebrate Stephen having finished his latest novel and submitted it to the publisher.