Page 192 of Slack Tide Kill

It had been ringing all morning and he'd ignored it, but he couldn't keep that up for ever, and he didn't want to. He tapped his phone a few times, brought up an app, checked everything was in place, then answered.

"O'Connell."

"Liam." Director Wilcot's voice was measured as ever. Unhurried. "I've read all the accounts, watched all the footage. I wanted to be the first from high command."

"Sir?"

"First to congratulate you. It's an extraordinary result. I don't say that lightly." A pause, weighed and measured. "The killer caught. A nuclear crisis averted. There will be an inquest, of course, and there'll be noise about corners cut and suspects manhandled, and the Chakrati family will want answers we may not be able to give. But none of that need touch you." Another pause. "At least, so long as the correct version of this story emerges."

Liam watched a drop of water fall from the ceiling. Could that be a leak, he wondered? The rain finding its way through all the floors of William Harvey Hospital?

"I've spoken to the Deputy Commissioner this morning," Wilcot went on. "There's a place on the accelerated command course in April. It's competitive, every other place gone by now, but he could squeeze you on." He let that stand a moment. "You wanted to make DCI by 30, as I understand it? You're not far off the pace, even after everything."

There it was. Set down carefully between them. An incredible offer, really.

"And the correct story, sir," Liam said. "Is one where Sally Rogers takes the blame for any and all mistakes."

Seconds strained. "Only if that reflects the truth, Liam."

Liam said nothing. The water before him dripped again. He took a breath. He'd already come so far; what was one more step?

"What if that doesn't reflect the whole truth, sir? What if I made my own share of mistakes?"

"I'm sure that won't be the case, Liam. You've been exemplary."

"I haven't, sir. At times, I've neglected my duty. I've strong-armed suspects. I've made a mockery of PACE."

The silence stretched.

"I think you may be confused, Liam. I know how badly injured you were in the line of duty. I know how stressful these situations must've been. I also know what a corrupting influence your partner was. There is no reason the career of a promising officer such as yourself should be dragged down by her iniquity."

Liam felt the nausea rising in him. This was the real betrayal, right now, of everything the role stood for. All for advancement. It was hard to even get the words out.

"You want me to blame Sally Rogers."

"I only want the truth, my boy. You are in the best position to speak accurately about her conduct. Tell the truth, and I will back you to the hilt."

"The truth that sends her home."

"This is the service you must provide, Liam. Fail in your duty now, and I will no longer be able to protect you. The repercussions of Dungeness will fall equally upon both your partner and yourself."

And there it was. Carrot and stick.

"No," Liam said.

"Think carefully, Liam. This is a moment in your career that–"

Liam tuned him out. He looked at his phone, tapping through to the app he'd opened. Tania Brown had given him the idea. A simple few taps, and any cell phone could become a wire.

"I'm recording this conversation, director," Liam interrupted. "From the beginning. All of it."

There was silence, then an icy response. "What do you mean by this?"

Liam watched another drip form, swell and fall. There was hardly any splash. "I think you know, sir. I'll even send you a copy. It can be mutually assured destruction. You've got me confessing to dismissal-worthy offenses. I've got you trying to bribe me to turn on my partner."

Wilcot said nothing. That was probably wise.

"So leave us alone. Me. Sally. For good. Or I send this to the Gaze."