Poe wondered which way it would go. The Border Force guys looked like they’d fight dirty but there were witnesses. It would be fists and headbutts and kicks to the balls. When Poe was still in uniform, he’d patrolled Botchergate, Carlisle’s yellow-headed pimple, and the scene of most of its alcohol-fuelled violence. He knew how to scrap in the gutter. The trick was to keep going, even when you were getting hurt. Make the other person regret it before you did.
But there were two of them. The numbers were in their favour. They had four fists to his two. They were twice as heavy and five times as stupid.
In the end it was moot.
The fight stopped before it could start when something fell out of the belly of the halibut Poe was holding.
Three hundred yards away on HMSBiter, a Royal NavyArcher-class fast inshore patrol boat, DCI Stephanie Flynn had her eyes glued to a pair of binoculars. ‘Ha-ha, look at that salty bastard,’ she said. ‘Poe looks like Captain Haddock.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Nothing, they’re just . . .’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ Flynn said, ‘but it looks like Poe’s just picked up a massive fish and whacked one of his colleagues with it.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Er . . . I don’t think I can say it any differently to be honest. Poe grabbed a fish, it might be a cod, and swung it round his head and knocked one of his colleagues off his feet. And before you ask, this is Poe; if you want logic and reason, you’re in the wrong place.’ She paused, tried to work out what was happening on the boat that HMSLancasterhad boarded. ‘Uh-oh, now it looks like they’re all going to start brawling.’
‘Step on it,’ the skipper said to the helmsman. He’d been told to take DCI Flynn to Poe and then get them both back to the mainland as fast as possible. His orders hadn’t specified whether Poe had to be bloodied or unbloodied, but he was an officer in the Royal Navy; not everything had to be explicit.
HMSBitersurged forward as the helmsman gave it the beans. The engines growled and began churning the water in their wake. It wasn’t long before they’d reached their top speed, around 25 knots. DespiteBiterbouncing around like a roller-coaster, Flynn kept her eyes stuck on what was happening on the fishing trawler. ‘Now it seems they’re all looking at something on the deck,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I have absolutely no idea, but it’s got them all excited. They certainly aren’t thinking of fighting any more.’
Back on theAurora II, the fisherman father said, ‘That’s not mine.’ He glared at his sons.
‘It’s not ours either,’ the younger one protested. ‘We were told it was drugs.’
They bred smart criminals in Cornwall.
‘That isn’t drugs, son,’ Poe said. ‘That’s a Glock.’ He gloved up and retrieved it from the deck. The gun was shrink-wrapped with thick clear plastic. ‘A Glock 17, to be precise.’ He shouted over to HMSLancaster’s remaining crew member, ‘Mr Scoplett, can you call this in, please? The whole boat’s a crime scene nowand I don’t want to lose evidence. But we’ll take these three into our custody now.’ There was no response. He risked a glance. ‘Are youasleep?’
Whether HMSLancaster’s skipper was asleep or not was immaterial: the sound of the loudhailer would have woken the dead.
‘Ahoy-hoy, Captain Poe!’ Flynn said. ‘You mind telling me what’s going on?’
Poe turned. HMSBiterhad come alongside. No one had noticed.
Scoplett woke with a start. ‘Ship ahoy,’ he said.
‘Well shiver me timbers,’ Poe said.
Chapter 6
Cabinet Office Briefing Room C, Whitehall, London
Poe and Flynn walked into a full briefing room. A man in a suit was talking over a PowerPoint presentation. He had sandy hair, combed and wavy, the way King Charles had worn his in his forties. It was a look only posh people could get away with. He caught Poe’s eyes. The man in the suit’s flickered but he recovered beautifully. He gestured towards a pair of empty seats.
‘I’ll be two minutes,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll do some introductions.’
Poe looked around the room. It was the first time he’d been to Whitehall. The inside, or this bit at least, was less impressive than the outside. The exterior looked like something out ofMary Poppins, the inside like the group activity room in a job centre. The people watching the PowerPoint presentation were a mixed bag. There were men and women in suits, men and women in jeans and T-shirts. Some were taking notes, others were on their phone tapping away at texts or emails. Two of them looked like they were taking notes for their boss. There was a guy hiding behind a copy ofThe Timeswho seemed to be ignoring everyone, and a woman with a scattering of acne on her forehead who was chewing on a hangnail. It looked like there was only one cop in the room. Poe had met her a few years earlier on a serial poisoner case. Mathers, he thought she was called. Good at her job. He didn’t know all the Met ranks, but he thought she might be a commander by now, maybe a deputy assistant commissioner. He nodded at her. She ignored him.
The screen went blank.
