Page 88 of The Killer’s Mark

Chapter 72

‘You’ve been spying on us,’ Poe said. ‘Electronic surveillance.’

‘We have,’ Gilliard replied. ‘And like I said, it was all above board.’

‘What about our phones?’

Gilliard said nothing. Reddened.

Poe nodded in understanding. ‘If you had authorisation to put in cameras and listening devices, you almost certainly had authorisation to tap our phones.’

‘I don’t have to explain NCA tactics to a civil—’

‘But for some reason your techs, possibly even this tech,’ Poe continued, pointing at Gotobed, ‘couldn’t do it. You tried tapping them, but nothing happened. It’s why you went all Cold War on us. Drilled holes in the ceiling. Planted bugs. Eavesdropped the old-fashioned way.’

‘I got the job done.’

‘Yet a more curious person might have stopped to consider why you couldn’t tap our phones in the first place.’

‘I’m sure—’

‘But you didn’t. You ploughed on regardless. And let me tell you, in the annals of own goals, not wondering why you couldn’t tap our phones was a doozy of a mistake. A legendary screw-up.’

‘A doozy?’ Gilliard said, mocking.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, though, Poe noticed. He was worried. Had probably wondered why his support people hadn’t been able to execute the basic task of phone surveillance. He’d probably been fobbed off with some electronic bullshit excuse. Something he hadn’t understood but now wished he’d taken the time to challenge more robustly.

‘Yes, a doozy,’ Poe said. ‘Because while all you’ll get from spying on me is some musical burping, what you get from spying on Tilly is a whole new thing.’

‘I fail to see how.’

‘That, Chief Inspector, is obvious. What do you know about her?’

‘Evidently she’s a lot brighter than Mr Gotobed gave her credit for. Other than that, she’s just a PI. She has the same standing, the same rights as you – i.e. no rights at all.’

‘Uh-uh, wrong answer,’ Poe said, doing his best Family Fortunes impression. ‘I think you’re about to find out that Tilly has more rights, more protection than anyone in this room. We had a meeting earlier this week, before your guy was up in our loft, when she told one of our initially reluctant sources that she is authorised to receive and disseminate information all the way up to exceptionally controlled intelligence.’

‘What’s that?’

‘If you’ve never heard of it, you aren’t authorised to know it exists. The only reason I’m telling you now is to get you into even more trouble.’

Gilliard smirked. Sceptical again.

Poe pressed a button on the office phone: one that Bradshaw had pre-programmed, one she’d made him practise twice. An amplified dialling tone rang through the room.

‘Speak,’ a man with an aristocratic voice said.

‘Alastor, I hope I’ve caught you at a bad time?’ Poe said.

‘I’m just about to go into a Cabinet meeting, Poe. What do you want?’

‘What the hell is this?’ Gilliard said.

‘Who is that person, Poe?’ Locke said. ‘And why does he think he can talk to me like that?’

‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Gilliard, Alastor,’ Poe said. ‘He used to be with the NCA’s Organised Crime Command.’

‘Used to be? I take it this man has irked you in some way?’