jabbed an index finger towards the quailing spook. ‘It was a clear error of judgement on your part.’
‘Yes.’ Bowing his head, Palmer clenched his arse cheeks.
‘
Another
clear error of judgement.’
Get on with it, you cow
. ‘Yes.’
‘A lot of people are telling me that you should be reassigned to duties on the Falklands.’
Here it comes.
Palmer fought back a sob as the image of a solitery penguin waddling down a windblown beach under slate-grey skies appeared in front of his eyes.
‘Fortunately for you, however, those positions have been filled.’
Looking up, Palmer released his buttocks, almost shitting himself with joy. ‘Oh?’ he squeaked.
‘Yes. I have decided to send Marchmain and Flyte. I think that the experience will do them good.’
Palmer stifled a nervous laugh. ‘Quite.’
‘And, anyway,’ Brewster continued, ‘I’ve got other plans for you.’
16
Lying on his bed, Carlyle stared at the ceiling, wondering why life had to be so bloody complicated. Without any warning, Sandra Wollard had upped and transferred to the Theydon Bois station, meaning that his love-life had returned to its usual uneventful state. With a sigh, he rolled over and reached under the bed, searching for his copy of
Penthouse
. Unable to grasp it, he stuck his head over the side of the bed.
Fuck.
Zipping up his jeans, he struggled to his feet. ‘Ma!’
Standing in front of a pile of dirty plates in the sink, Lorna Gordon was unapologetic. ‘I told you that I wouldn’t have that kind of filth in the house,’ she said firmly, when Carlyle confronted her about his missing stroke mag.
‘But—’
‘I’ve
told
you, John,’ his mother insisted, attacking the remains of a fried egg that was glued to a plate.
‘But, Ma,’ he persisted, ‘I had a photo in there!’
She shot him a stern look. ‘What?’
‘Not that kind of photo,’ Carlyle explained. ‘It was work.’
Lorna returned her attention to the scrubbing. ‘If it was for work, what was it doing in one of your . . . magazines?’
‘It was for safekeeping.’
‘Well,’ said his mother, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice, ‘I put out the rubbish yesterday. And the bin men have already been and gone.’ Stacking one plate on the draining board, she turned her attention to the next one. ‘So I guess you’ll just have to get yourself another photograph, won’t you?’
Beating a sullen retreat, Carlyle contemplated the loss of his one piece of evidence against the MI5 man. The photograph of Martin Palmer outside 179 Nelson Avenue was probably already lost under a mountain of smouldering domestic waste at the Smugglers Way dump.
‘And next time,’ his mother shouted after him, ‘show a bit more sense.’
What Dies Inside playlist
1. Relax – Frankie Goes To Hollywood
2. White Lines – Grandmaster Flash
3. When Doves Cry – Prince
4. Young at Heart – Bluebells
5. Smalltown Boy – Bronski Beat
6. Freedom – Wham!
7. Pride – U2
8. Master and Servant – Depeche Mode
9. Drive – the Cars
10. I’m So Excited – Pointer Sisters
11. Electric Dreams – Giorgio Moroder
12. Shout to the Top – Style Council
13. Shout – Tears for Fears
14. The Killing Moon – Echo & The Bunnymen
15. Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now – The Smiths
16. Wonderland – Big Country
17. Michael Caine – Madness
18. Your Love is King – Sade
19. Police On My Back – The Clash
20. Bits of Kids – Stiff Little Fingers
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson