Never Apologise, Never Explain - James Craig [38]
‘No, we’ve been off air. But we could do it on the new series, if you wanted.’
‘I think it’s too late for that.’
‘Why?’ She looked at him carefully, happy to be talking now about someone else’s problems. ‘Do you think he’s dead?’
Carlyle snorted. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I hope he’s dead.’
‘But . . .’ Slowly, a patina of understanding spread across her face ‘Oh God, that is so horrible!’
Carlyle shrugged.
‘Maybe you are being too negative,’ Rosanna sniffed. ‘After all, child protection is not really your thing. A lot of kids get found. They reckon around five hundred children are abducted in Britain each year. Almost all are taken by a disaffected parent who wants custody. Not nice, but a lot different from the kind of thing you’re thinking about.’
Carlyle looked down at his empty cup. ‘I’m no expert but, trust me, the last thing Michael Hagger wants is custody of his kid. He’s either tried to sell him or he’s used him in some other way in one of his business transactions.’
‘Urgh!’ She stuck a finger in her cold tea and stirred it aimlessly. ‘That makes my problem look a little pathetic, doesn’t it?’
Yes, it does, Carlyle thought. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘But anything to do with kids is just the worst.’ He smiled. ‘When you become a mum, you’ll realise.’
A rueful look passed over Rosanna’s face. ‘Josh would have kittens if he heard you talking about me having kids.’
‘Well,’ Carlyle said, feeling himself slip uneasily into father mode, ‘if I was ever talking to Josh about it, I would tell him that, when the time comes, the only thing that he should be worrying about is doing what he is told, stepping up to the plate and performing.’
She blushed. ‘Inspector!’
‘It’s true,’ he grinned, pleased that he’d at least cheered her up a bit.
‘He wouldn’t be happy at all,’ she protested.
He scanned the street outside and sat back in his chair. ‘Alternatively, I could send round a couple of guys with baseball bats – threaten to break his legs.’
She laughed. ‘I presume you know plenty of people like that.’
‘I do,’ he said, trying not to sound too pleased about it.
For a moment they sat in comfortable silence. Then she asked: ‘Do you think there is any chance of finding Jake Hagger?’
Remember she’s a journalist, a little voice piped up in the inspector’s head. ‘Off the record?’
‘Of course.’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘I think that there is as near to no chance as makes no difference.’
‘I see.’
He glanced at his watch. It told him that he really should be getting back to the station and dealing with Henry Mills but, once again, for some reason the enthusiasm to do so just wasn’t there. For her part, Rosanna didn’t seem desperate to get off to work either. ‘So,’ he said finally, ‘how are your political chums? Spend a lot of time in Number Ten?’
Spotting a woman acquaintance walking up the street, Rosanna waved to her, before returning her gaze to Carlyle. ‘I have been to Downing Street twice, as it happens. It was nice, but not exactly life-changing. I know the Prime Minister’s Director of Communications extremely well – I’m sure I could get you an invite there if you wanted.’
I wonder what Simpson would make of that? Carlyle reflected. ‘Thanks. I’ll bear it in mind.’
Rosanna leaned slightly over the table towards him. ‘To be honest, I think that they’re not finding it as much fun as they thought it was going to be.’
The poor dears, Carlyle thought.
‘Edgar,’ she continued, ‘is finding it quite tough going. The poor chap is obsessed with the idea that he has been found out – as if you need to be a genius to be Prime Minister. Every time his poll ratings slip a bit further, he’s waiting for Christian to come through the door and steal his job.’
‘I would have thought the Mayor of London has enough on his plate as it is,’ Carlyle mused, keen to hear more.
‘Being the Mayor is not really a full-time job though, is it? Certainly not for a man of action like Christian. All you’ve really got any responsibility for is trying to stop the Tube drivers going on strike, which they do regardless,