Page 89 of The Killer’s Mark

‘Everyone irks me, Alastor. But no, this man has unwittingly irked you.’

‘Yet I am unaware of his existence.’

‘He’s been running a surveillance operation on Tilly.’

Silence.

Poe broke it. ‘He’s arrested her. He’s about to seize her computer.’

More silence.

Poe broke it again. ‘Seize is spelled ei, not ie, by the way. Sieze is Romanian for “sit down”.’

Locke ignored him. ‘Mr Gilliard,’ he said, ‘in five minutes your phone is going to ring. You’ll answer it and you’ll do everything you’re instructed to.’

‘I don’t even know who you—’

‘Is that CLEAR?’

‘Look, Mr Plummy Voice,’ Gilliard said, ‘I have no idea who you are, or why you think you can talk to a chief inspector in the National Crime Agency this way. How I conduct my operations is my business, not yours.’

‘I am a very senior figure in His Majesty’s Security Service, Mr Gilliard. Unless you have a signed letter from either the prime minister or the home secretary authorising you to conduct a surveillance operation on one of my assets, I am required to take the position that it is an unauthorised operation. You are now a threat to national security and that very much puts it in my wheelhouse. Do you understand how much trouble you’re in?’

Gilliard mumbled a yes.

‘I didn’t quite catch that.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Poe, please take their phones,’ Locke said. ‘And I need you to isolate Mr Gilliard until my people arrive. They’ll be coming from Manchester, so it may take some time. Can you stay with him until he receives his telephone call from the home secretary? She’ll be in a foul mood; you know how much she hates surprises.’

‘No, Alastor, I don’t know that.’

Locke hung up.

Gilliard slumped into a seat. He removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket. Mopped his brow.

‘Guess that’s more than a slap on the wrist, asshole,’ Esmerée said. ‘What happens when you fuck with people you shouldn’t fuck with.’

Poe glanced at her. Shook his head. It was over. He’d won. There was no need to grandstand.

‘How was I to know?’ Gilliard said. ‘How could I possibly know Miss Bradshaw was an MI5 asset.’

Poe shrugged. ‘The fact that you couldn’t tap our phones should have at least raised a red flag, Chief Inspector.’

‘I’m no threat to national security. He must know that.’

‘Why must he?’ Poe said. ‘Because if you think the security services are in the business of giving the benefit of the doubt, you haven’t been watching the news.’

‘But I didn’t know!’

‘Won’t make a jot of difference to Alastor Locke. A threat, imagined or not, is, in his words, robustly dealt with.’

Gilliard put his head in his hands. Rubbed his face. Then he looked up and nodded. He handed Poe his mobile phone. ‘Can I wait in your reception area?’ he asked. ‘And I need to call my wife. Would it be OK if I use your landline?’