Page 126 of Slack Tide Kill

The wait had been so long.

Now he looked at the shelf. There were four cups on it. For a time, maybe another answer had seemed possible. But now he knew the truth. There had only ever needed to be one.

He took the towel and hung it straight off the oven's handle. He turned off the light and stood in the dark listening to the river passing by, moving south, always flowing, going where it always went.

Everything was ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow, when everything would change.

THURSDAY FEBRUARY 8

55 ALWAYS AN ANGLE

Sally jerked awake to her phone ringing. It was dark still, the red lights of the City pulsing in the distance. Her head pounded and her eyes stung, but she fumbled for the handset, waking the screen. An unknown caller. Past 3 a.m.

That took a few seconds to register. How had they even got through her silent mode settings?

It kept ringing.

She hit answer. "Who the hell is this?"

"Ms. Rogers, this is Tania Brown from the Gaze," came a familiar, sneery voice. "You'll want to hear what I've got to say."

Sally blinked and her eyes rasped. Brown? "I don't. How did you get through to my phone?"

"Product of a misspent youth. But don't worry about that now. If you want any hope of saving your career, your colleagues, and your case, we have to move fast. I'm on the walkway outside your apartment. Come right now."

Sally opened her mouth to say something, but the line was already dead. She blinked and tried to steady herself. She thought about just going back to sleep, but the events in McMaster's office rolled back into her mind.

His deadline was 9 a.m. After that, her career in this country was over.

Was Brown here to gloat? Sally hadn't seen the video she'd made the other night yet; as far as she knew it hadn't even posted anywhere yet. Maybe this was the kicker? Drag her out at night, force some kind of blackmail situation in exchange for information?

A flash of anger cut through Sally. So the old dog had life in it still. That felt good.

She kicked the cold blankets away and stood on trembling legs, advancing to the glass. She could only see the dark of the river and the lights on the far bank, so she opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. The concrete was icy on the soles of her feet.

Down below, a figure illuminated by a street light. Dressed in pink, her face angled up. She saw Sally and beckoned. What the hell was this?

She went back inside, dressed and headed out, taking the exterior steps rather than the elevator, so the cold night air kissed her skin. With each floor down, she felt her worn muscles loosen. At the bottom she emerged from the security gate and stepped out onto the Thames Path.

Several low pontoons splashed and scraped in their moorings at the bank. Streetlamps cast pools of light. Tania Brown was barely 20 yards away and well-lit, her shadowy colleague a few further on. She raised her arm in greeting.

Sally tucked her hands into her pockets and advanced.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Rogers," Brown said swiftly. "I'll make this quick."

Sally stopped two yards away. It felt strange to be here, almost clandestine. "Talk fast, Tania."

"Oh I will," Brown said. "I'm on a deadline and you're the centerpiece. Our paper had some of its best circulation with that exposé on your past."

Sally felt her lip curling. "Your 'paper' called me the Bulletproof Belle. Said I was a coward, a ticking time bomb, and turned half of the NCA against me." Heat rose in her cheeks. "You know I'm about to get kicked out, is that it? You've come for one final twist of the knife?"

Brown gave a tight smile. "Bulletproof Belle. I forgot about that. It's good, but I can do one better."

"Let me save you the time. I'm not interested, Tania. I'm not for sale."

She turned and started walking back. This was a waste of breath.

"Are you sure?" Brown called after her. "Because if I've read you right, what they're doing to you now? Mayhew. McMaster. Even O'Connell? It must stick right in your craw."