Read Online Jigsaw by Campbell Armstrong - Free Book Online Page B

gazed at the volumes. He plucked at his fleshy lower lip. Pagan thought there was an element of the fallen angel about Nimmo. He’d made commitments to a variety of devils.
    â€˜I have never subscribed to the idea that counter-terrorist activity should be the exclusive domain of intelligence, Frank. And it isn’t just MI5. You have a plethora of groups with their finger in the terrorist pie. The Defence Intelligence Staff. Army Intelligence Corps. Joint Intelligence Committee. The list goes on. I have always advocated that a single unit should be responsible for that area. Namely, Special Branch. We are just as well equipped as anyone else to handle everything. I have always said so. Mine has been, alas, a solitary voice in the clamour of Whitehall.’
    Ah. A light dawned on Pagan, a penny dropped. He understood now. Nimmo perceived this disaster as an opportunity for self-aggrandizement, a chance to show those who made major decisions along Whitehall that the police could cope as well as anyone, thank you. Nimmo saw this tragedy as a canvas on which he might, yo, inscribe his own florid signature. George Nimmo. Look at me! I exist! Why am I not surprised? Pagan wondered. The callous heart of the base human need for self-aggrandizement. The sorry desire for approbation, no matter what. He suspected Nimmo had been beaten up at school, bullied in the yard. Kids had a way of sniffing out a misfit in their midst. Now he was determined to show the boneheads of Whitehall that he’d been a visionary all along. It was political buccaneering.
    â€˜You will be answerable to me, of course. Any and all information you get comes to me. You make no significant decisions without consultation. Is that clear, Frank?’
    It was ruthlessly clear. Nimmo wanted to get in before one of the intelligence agencies decided it was their business after all. He wanted his own foothold, his own encampment. And if the intelligence boys desired a piece of the action, Nimmo’s investigation – conducted by Pagan, the old maestro – would be so deeply entrenched that they couldn’t interfere without raising grave questions of jurisdiction. Sweet, if you liked that kind of brute, sneaky ambition.
    â€˜And if this was a terrorist act? What then? Do the intelligence people take it over?’ Pagan asked.
    â€˜Leave that to me, Frank. I rather think I’m more equipped to deal with the intricacies of the situation. Intelligence has to be handled in a certain way. And if you’ll forgive me saying so, you are not the diplomatic type.’ Nimmo laughed, as if the idea of Pagan understanding the fragile balance of power between Special Branch and the intelligence agencies were too far-fetched for credibility. Pagan could never grasp what was discussed around green baize tables in locked rooms. He was the wrong sort of chap for that stratified area where matters of policy were determined. Good man in the field, of course, but hadn’t gone to the right schools.
    The laugh grated on Pagan. He said, ‘One thing. I want Foxworth with me.’
    â€˜Take him. Call on anybody you like. Within reason.’
    â€˜And I want my old office back.’
    â€˜Why? I can have you accommodated here, Frank. Anyhow, your old stamping-grounds are being used for storage, I believe.’
    Pagan was persistent. ‘Golden Square.’
    Nimmo, even if he looked mildly irritated, put up no objection. ‘Golden Square it is.’
    â€˜I’ll get started immediately.’
    Nimmo wandered back to his desk. He sat in the swivel-chair. Pagan was quiet a moment before he asked, ‘Is there any updated information about the kind of explosive device we’re dealing with?’
    â€˜Not yet. But the explosives people have found promising signs. Don’t ask me what promising means. I’m told we can expect the full picture soon.’ Nimmo stood up, looked at his wristwatch. ‘John Downey, Frank. Talk to