London Calling - James Craig [115]
Carole smiled. ‘And some reassurance and a free meal never do any harm when the stock market is in freefall.’
‘Exactly,’ Joshua agreed, suppressing a slight feeling of annoyance. He had explained all this to his wife at least three times in the preceding days, but by now he was used to her not paying much attention to his work. She seemed merely amused that he made so much money by pushing numbers across a computer screen. To a police officer it just didn’t seem real.
Her casual attitude didn’t really bother him, however, since he didn’t have much interest in her job either. They were more than secure financially, so there was no actual need for her to work. The way Joshua saw it, the police thing was less of a job now and more like a hobby. But neither of them had ever given thought to the idea that she might quit. The Job was a core part of her being, always had been, and he knew that she would never give it up voluntarily.
For a few minutes they sat in comfortable silence, while, not for the first time, Simpson eyed her husband with a mixture of bemusement and deep affection. How he had transformed himself from the rather unworldly Imperial College computer scientist that she had married into a razor-sharp financial investor, in ten short years, amazed her. She was just glad that the five-bedroom house in Highgate, the expensive restaurants, the needy clients and the political networking had not turned Joshua into a completely different person, robbing her of what she had seen in him in the first place. And it amused her that they could now mix in circles that were way beyond her previous expectations. Many of her social experiences were consequently way beyond the aspirations of even her most senior bosses in the Metropolitan Police. It was fun but it wasn’t what she had signed up for, and, if it all disappeared tomorrow, Simpson knew that she could happily go back to the way things had been before.
The meal had been pleasant enough, but now she felt deeply tired. Tomorrow would mean another extremely early start and, as always, the new day would bring more committee meetings and less policing. Responsibility without power was wearisome. The backlog of cases that she was ultimately in charge of was getting far too long for comfort. She wondered if John Carlyle had tracked down the Ahl woman yet. He should have given her an update this evening, but she knew how he hoarded his information carefully. All in all, he made her extremely nervous, and she even hated him for that. Why couldn’t the little rat-faced cynic just do what he was bloody well told, she wondered, not for the first time.
The problem with Mr John Carlyle, she had concluded long ago, was that he possessed too much of a sense of his own importance. Sudden heartburn sent a spasm of discomfort through her chest. She should have insisted that he bring the Ahl woman straight in to Charing Cross for questioning. Things would be far more straightforward once they had made an arrest. It was still Carlyle’s investigation, but Simpson knew that she had the bigger picture to consider. Maybe it was time for her to give him a sharp nudge. Getting this case off her desk would represent a big step forward.
Joshua was thinking about a cigar, but saw how tired his wife looked and decided against it. Instead, he caught Kanzaki’s eye and gestured for the bill. Turning back to his wife, he said: ‘The gossip is that the mayor is finally ready to take out the commissioner. After the election is out of the way, and Holyrod’s chums are settled in Downing Street, your man Osgood is a goner.’
Carole Simpson smiled. Like everyone else on the Force, she knew that the rumours had been gathering pace for some time. The present commissioner, Luke Osgood, had nailed his colours too closely to the mast of the old