Power Games by Judith Cutler Page B

going, Kate?’ Neville asked, with less preamble than if he’d been in his office, where he always observed courtesies, no matter how pressing the business in hand.
    â€˜In the hands of the Path. Lab. and Nigel Crowther,’ she said.
    â€˜I gather you found someone to ID the woman.’
    â€˜Kate’s buttons man,’ Graham put in.
    â€˜Buttons?’ It was clear the question was directed at Kate.
    She explained about her find and about Stephen Abbott’s connection with the Lodge and with Rosemary Parsons.
    â€˜You’ve been busy.’ Rod nodded his approval.
    â€˜She always is: too busy to—’
    â€˜And Sarbut says he may have an ID for the guy who died in the warehouse fire,’ she put in quickly. ‘Not that he is Sarbut, of course.’
    As she’d known he would, he ignored the dig. ‘“Sarbut says”. You’ve got the lingo at least. It’s a sort of shibboleth. Rookies tend to say, “My sarbut tells me …” – quite wrong!’ Rod said. He stopped short, staring at his empty hand.
    At last Graham took the hint. ‘Gaffer?’
    â€˜Half of bitter, please.’
    â€˜Kate?’
    â€˜The same, please.’
    They watched Graham push his way to the bar.
    Neville leaned closer to her. ‘You’re really convinced that Rosemary Parsons’ death was unnatural, aren’t you?’
    â€˜I’ve been wrong before.’
    â€˜We’ve all been wrong at one time or another. And got results at other times. Like you did last December. A couple of fine pieces of work, Kate. You’ll make a good cop.’
    At least the pub lighting wouldn’t show how deeply she blushed, less at the words than at the tone. But she was afraid that as she bobbed her head in a smile, her dimples emerged.
    Neville laughed. And then, his face quite serious, added, ‘Which is why I want you on this new MIT.’
    â€˜What!’ She gaped. Would she be pleased or horrified? No, she didn’t want to leave her mates, but she’d love to get her teeth into major cases.
    â€˜The MIT,’ he repeated. ‘There’s a certain amount of opposition, of course, but I take it you’d have no objection? Personnel are very keen – after all, they want to build up your CV.’
    â€˜I was thinking about pulling out of the fast track scheme, Rod.’
    â€˜I know you were. Maybe this assignment will help convince you you shouldn’t.’
    â€˜What about the warehouse fires?’
    Graham, juggling three glasses, reappeared. ‘She’s making progress with those. Which is why she shouldn’t be pulled out tomorrow.’
    Neville grabbed a glass hastily – his suit was too expensive for him to welcome a slosh of beer.
    â€˜Tomorrow!’ Kate repeated. She looked straight at Rod, ignoring the glass in Graham’s outstretched hand. ‘It’s all fixed, then?’
    â€˜All bar the shouting, as they say round here. You’ve been here long enough to understand the natives, Graham? No, you were born here, weren’t you?’
    â€˜Solihull, actually,’ he said, stiff at his sudden exclusion. ‘So what’s fixed?’
    Kate took the glass. He didn’t seem to notice.
    â€˜That business we were discussing earlier, Graham,’ Neville said, so easily Kate suspected their discussions had been rancorous. ‘Kate’s move to my MIT.’
    Graham’s mouth was so compressed the skin around it was white. ‘My comments are on the Procedure File,’ he said, slamming his glass down on a table. With no more than a nod, he turned and was gone.
    She turned to follow him. But Neville was shaking his head, and had stretched a lazy arm between her and the door. ‘He’ll be over it by the morning,’ he said. ‘Now, come and meet the team—’
    â€˜Just a moment, Gaffer. I’m not clear about this. What will the MIT be looking