Read Online Deadline for Murder by Val McDermid - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Val McDermid
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and bring it back here.
"When I went to print out the finished report, I realised I was nearly out of computer paper. So I drove down to Byres Road and bought a box, then came straight back. I was only gone for about twenty minutes. As soon as I got out of the lift, I knew something was wrong. The front door was open, you see. I dithered for a minute or two, wondering whether there was still someone inside, but then I decided, to hell with it, and went in. The place was empty, but it was like this. The policeman said he reckoned they must have been keeping an eye out for me and just did a runner when they saw my car come back."
"That's funny," Lindsay mused.
"What's funny about that?" Helen objected. "It's exactly what I'd do if I was a burglar."
"Well, how would they know it was Rosalind's car, unless they were specifically targeting her? In a block this big, you'd have to be dead unlucky if the one car that came in while you were turning a flat over actually belonged to that flat's owner. It looks to me as if they came here with a particular goal in mind, and they knew exactly who to keep watch for. This was no random opportunist burglary," Lindsay said.
Rosalind paled. "You mean, they were actually spying on me? Surely not! I don't have anything valuable."
"Did they steal those papers you brought home?"
Miserably, Rosalind nodded. "They walked off with the lot. And the disc from the computer with the finished report. They took all my other discs as well. Luckily, I've got back-ups of most of them safely stowed in Helen's flat."
"Do you think the intent was to steal the draft?" Lindsay asked.
"How could it be? Nobody knew what I was bringing home. Not even my secretary knew exactly what it was about. God knows what I'm going to tell the Minister. I'm not supposed to let things like that out of my sight. He'll go absolutely apeshit."
"Why?" Helen cut in, unable to restrain her natural exuberant curiousity. "What were they about, for God's sake?"
"I can't say," Rosalind said. "Official Secrets Act."
"I know all about that," said Lindsay grimly. "But look, you can trust us, Rosalind. We're not about to tell anyone. And the police are going to have to know, aren't they?"
Rosalind looked worried. "Yes, they are." She thought for a moment, then made her decision. "It mustn't go any further, and I really mean that, both of you."
"You have my word," said Lindsay.
"I won't tell a soul," Helen said. "Though God knows it'll kill me, keeping my mouth shut." She pulled a face.
Rosalind gave a faint smile. "I know you can keep quiet when you have to, Helen. The report was about the privatisation of prisons. They've been muttering about it for a while, but just like the poll tax, they've decided to try it out in Scotland first. You know the Tory theory--dump it on the Scots, that way if it doesn't work, we've not lost anything because the bloody Scots always vote Labour anyway."
"Jesus," Helen breathed softly. "That's dynamite, Ros. What exactly are they planning?"
"I really don't want to go into details," Rosalind said. "But they're planning all sorts of shit like armed guards and high security isolation units for violent offenders. It'll mean the end of any kind of rehabilitation programmes for long-stay prisoners, among other things."
Lindsay sighed. "I can see why you're so worried. And if there were rumours around that you were working on it, there would be plenty of people who'd be happy to get their hands on the proposals. Any security firms who were thinking of bidding for the contract, for starters."
"But I've already told you, no one could have known that this would be the one afternoon when the papers would be here," Rosalind protested. She looked around the room distractedly, as if the chaos would provide her with some clue.
"Yes, that is a problem," Lindsay admitted. "But I don't quite understand why you wanted my advice. I mean, the CID and the Special Branch will be running around like blue-arsed flies
"When I went to print out the finished report, I realised I was nearly out of computer paper. So I drove down to Byres Road and bought a box, then came straight back. I was only gone for about twenty minutes. As soon as I got out of the lift, I knew something was wrong. The front door was open, you see. I dithered for a minute or two, wondering whether there was still someone inside, but then I decided, to hell with it, and went in. The place was empty, but it was like this. The policeman said he reckoned they must have been keeping an eye out for me and just did a runner when they saw my car come back."
"That's funny," Lindsay mused.
"What's funny about that?" Helen objected. "It's exactly what I'd do if I was a burglar."
"Well, how would they know it was Rosalind's car, unless they were specifically targeting her? In a block this big, you'd have to be dead unlucky if the one car that came in while you were turning a flat over actually belonged to that flat's owner. It looks to me as if they came here with a particular goal in mind, and they knew exactly who to keep watch for. This was no random opportunist burglary," Lindsay said.
Rosalind paled. "You mean, they were actually spying on me? Surely not! I don't have anything valuable."
"Did they steal those papers you brought home?"
Miserably, Rosalind nodded. "They walked off with the lot. And the disc from the computer with the finished report. They took all my other discs as well. Luckily, I've got back-ups of most of them safely stowed in Helen's flat."
"Do you think the intent was to steal the draft?" Lindsay asked.
"How could it be? Nobody knew what I was bringing home. Not even my secretary knew exactly what it was about. God knows what I'm going to tell the Minister. I'm not supposed to let things like that out of my sight. He'll go absolutely apeshit."
"Why?" Helen cut in, unable to restrain her natural exuberant curiousity. "What were they about, for God's sake?"
"I can't say," Rosalind said. "Official Secrets Act."
"I know all about that," said Lindsay grimly. "But look, you can trust us, Rosalind. We're not about to tell anyone. And the police are going to have to know, aren't they?"
Rosalind looked worried. "Yes, they are." She thought for a moment, then made her decision. "It mustn't go any further, and I really mean that, both of you."
"You have my word," said Lindsay.
"I won't tell a soul," Helen said. "Though God knows it'll kill me, keeping my mouth shut." She pulled a face.
Rosalind gave a faint smile. "I know you can keep quiet when you have to, Helen. The report was about the privatisation of prisons. They've been muttering about it for a while, but just like the poll tax, they've decided to try it out in Scotland first. You know the Tory theory--dump it on the Scots, that way if it doesn't work, we've not lost anything because the bloody Scots always vote Labour anyway."
"Jesus," Helen breathed softly. "That's dynamite, Ros. What exactly are they planning?"
"I really don't want to go into details," Rosalind said. "But they're planning all sorts of shit like armed guards and high security isolation units for violent offenders. It'll mean the end of any kind of rehabilitation programmes for long-stay prisoners, among other things."
Lindsay sighed. "I can see why you're so worried. And if there were rumours around that you were working on it, there would be plenty of people who'd be happy to get their hands on the proposals. Any security firms who were thinking of bidding for the contract, for starters."
"But I've already told you, no one could have known that this would be the one afternoon when the papers would be here," Rosalind protested. She looked around the room distractedly, as if the chaos would provide her with some clue.
"Yes, that is a problem," Lindsay admitted. "But I don't quite understand why you wanted my advice. I mean, the CID and the Special Branch will be running around like blue-arsed flies
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