Read Online Shoot to Kill by James Craig - Free Book Online Page B

arms’ length.
Fail to prepare
, the saying went,
and prepare to fail
. Maybe, after the massacre at St Pancras, she wanted to fail.
    After a while, the door to Wolf’s office opened. The shrink popped out his head and beckoned her inside. The room itself was small and cosy. Littered with family photos and books, it had a lived-in look that Wolf had doubtless striven hard to create. There being no couch, Roche took a seat in one of the two armchairs in front of the battered wooden desk. From the bay window behind the desk came the remaining dregs of the afternoon gloom, along with the reassuring hum of rush-hour traffic. Illumination came from a freestanding floor lamp in the corner, its light falling across a framed poster for
The Wild Bunch
.
    Roche cleared her throat.
Better get on with it
, she thought. ‘Good evening, Doctor.’
    ‘Good evening to you, Sergeant Roche,’ Wolf replied, somewhat uncertainly, as he slipped into the chair behind the desk. Opening a hardback A4 notebook, he flicked through the pages until he came to the notes he was looking for. Running an index finger down the page, he scanned them carefully.
    Waiting patiently, Roche looked Wolf up and down. In a grey, open-neck shirt, he was a short, wizened man of indeterminate age, with watery blue eyes and long grey hair, tied back into a rather unfortunate ponytail. Sometimes he wore a wedding band. Today it was absent. Otherwise, she noticed no differences from her last visit.
    After what seemed like several minutes, Wolf closed his notebook and looked up. ‘So,’ he smiled, then said in an accent that Roche had never been able to place, ‘how are we today?’
    ‘I am okay,’ said Roche, careful to sit up straight in her seat.
    ‘I see that you have gone back to work,’ Wolf said evenly.
    ‘Like I said,’ Roche replied, ‘I feel fine. I saw no reason to stay away. I think it is good to get back to being busy.’
    Wolf leaned across the desk. ‘But you are not able to carry a gun.’
    ‘No,’ Roche said calmly. ‘Given what happened, there will need to be an investigation before I can do that.’
    The shrink raised his eyebrows. ‘How does that make you feel?’
    Ha!
thought Roche.
I saw that one coming
. A tight smile spread across her lips. ‘It makes me feel that I am going through a proper and professional process that will help me return to my full range of duties in due course.’
    Sighing, Wolf sat back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘Tell me about what happened when you lost the prisoner.’
    Christian Holyrod took a sniff of his half-full tumbler of Auchentoshan Three Wood and let out a purr of pleasure. Allowing the blackcurrant, orange, plum and raisin aroma to fill his nostrils, he took a healthy mouthful of the Lowland single malt. The oaky sweetness covered his tongue and he swallowed slowly. Sitting forward in his chair, the Mayor pulled up the video file that had just arrived in the inbox of his private email account and hit Play. As the interior of Everton’s Gentleman’s Club filled the 17-inch screen he took another mouthful of whisky and carefully placed the glass on his desk next to the laptop. Slipping on his telephone headset, he quickly dialled the number of Abigail Slater with one hand while fumbling with his fly with the other.
    She picked up immediately, even before he had time to find his member. ‘I’m in a meeting,’ she whispered.
    Distracted by the black woman straddling the pole on the screen in front of him, he could only manage a grunt.
    ‘Christian?’
    Finally releasing his tool, Holyrod began massaging himself. ‘I was just . . .’ A blonde girl had arrived on the stage and proceeded to stick her face between her colleague’s buttocks. Squeezing the tip of his penis between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, the Mayor began to pant. He hadn’t realized just how horny he was; this was going to be a sixty-second job, at most.
    ‘Christian?’ his mistress said crossly, her