‘Matthew works for me, has done for almost two years now.’ Matthew was a tall man. Some tall men looked like short men who’d been put on a rack. Not Matthew. He wasn’t lanky. Being tall was the right height for him. He was wiry rather than thin. And there was an edge to him that Poe hadn’t seen since his army days. Like Matthew hadn’t quite decided whether to kill you or not. Could go either way. Poe reckoned he’d been with one of the UK’s myriad special forces. Served his country well, then decided to grab some of the big bucks the uber-rich were desperate to pay people like him. And why not? Matthew, and people like Matthew, were a different kind of animal. They had a different outlook on life. An attitude, a way of seeing things that people like Archie needed. Why not be properly recompensed? Matthew put a rectangular wooden box on the table then went back to where he’d been standing. Out of earshot but within easy reach.
‘Do you know what this is, Sergeant Poe?’ Archie asked.
Poe thought he did, but he shook his head anyway. It seemed like a rhetorical question.
‘This is thesecondbottle of the Macallan M,’ Archie said. ‘The one I’d planned to open on the birth of my first grandchild. Catch this man and it’s yours.’
‘The National Crime Agency doesn’t have a transactional relationship with victims of crimes, sir,’ Poe said. ‘We don’t require bribes to do our job.’
Archie raised his hand again. This time Matthew brought a thin manilla file.
‘You’re an interesting man, Sergeant Poe,’ Archie said, picking up the top sheet. ‘Certainly the most interesting police officer on what I gather is the largest manhunt in the history of this country.’
Poe said nothing.
‘It seems you don’t always follow the letter of the law,’ he continued. ‘That occasionallynaturaljustice trumps criminal justice.’ He looked up. ‘If you wish, I can give you examples?’
‘I’m not a vigilante, sir,’ Poe said.
Archie waved his words away. ‘I don’t need a vigilante, Sergeant Poe.’ Poe heard the unspokenbecause I have my ownas if Archie had said it out loud. ‘I need a man who gets things done. A man who refuses to get tied up in red tape. Who can outsmart the people he hunts because hethinkslike the people he hunts.’
‘And look where that got me,’ Poe said. ‘I’m being treated for PTSD, I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than three hours, and my fiancée and best friend are making me eat fermented cabbage at my own wedding.’
‘I understand there will also be belly pork?’
Poe stared at Archie, astonished. ‘How could you possibly . . . ?’
‘How did I know what makes the man charged with catching my daughter’s killer tick? I made it my business to know, Sergeant Poe. I make it my business to know everything about the people I’m going into partnership with. It’s why I can afford all this . . . frippery.’ He took a sip of his whisky.
‘We’re not partners, sir.’ Poe gestured towards Flynn and Bradshaw. Flynn was talking to Mathers. Bradshaw was glancing in his direction. She looked worried. ‘In any case, my part has been overplayed. I’m part of a team.’
‘We may not be partners in a way that you understand, Sergeant Poe, but wearepartners. Like it or not, our two worlds have come crashing together.’
‘What do youwant, sir?’ Poe said. ‘Because if that file’s as thorough as it seems, you’ll know I’m nobody’s hero.’ He nodded towards Matthew the bodyguard. ‘Nobody’s lickspittle.’
‘I want this man caught,’ Archie said.
‘Caught? Or brought to you?’
‘You put him behind bars, Sergeant Poe,’ Archie said. ‘Leave the natural justice to me.’
‘You know I’ll have to report this conversation?’
Archie patted the file. ‘I’d expect nothing less.’ He reached into his jacket, pulled out a calfskin wallet. He unfolded it, removed a gilt-edged business card, and pushed it across the table. Poe made no move to pick it up. ‘This is my personal number. I can be reached at any time of the day. If I can help in any way whatsoever, I don’t want you to think twice about reaching out. I can open doors that might otherwise remain shut. Get people, whose first instinct is to say nothing, to talk to the men and women who enforce our laws.’
Poe picked up the business card. Tucked it into his top pocket.
Archie refilled his glass. Topped up Poe’s.
‘Now, ask your questions,’ he said.
Chapter 20
Poe waved Bradshaw and Flynn over. Flynn shook her head. She was deep in conversation with Mathers. Poe wasn’t sure he liked that. It looked as if they were plotting. Bradshaw bounded over; her expression set to what she thought was sympathy. It looked like she was trying to lay an egg.
‘Hello, Poe,’ she said. ‘Hello, Mr Arreghini.’ She patted his shoulder, nodded sagely, and said, ‘Life goes on.’
‘Er . . . thank you,’ Archie said, bemused.
