Read Online The Ring of Death by Sally Spencer - Free Book Online Page A

said.
    â€˜No, I’m not, am I?’ Paniatowski agreed.
    â€˜I haven’t seen you since you were a mere sergeant, DCI Paniatowski,’ Forsyth said amiably. ‘If you remember, we met when you were working with Cloggin’-it Charlie Woodend, on that rather nasty little business down at the old Haverton Army Camp.’
    Paniatowski said nothing.
    â€˜You do remember, don’t you?’ Forsyth asked.
    â€˜I remember,’ Paniatowski said. ‘And I also remember that other rather nasty little business , when you personally blocked the criminal prosecution of half a dozen snivelling ex-public schoolboys who worked for the War Department, and who should definitely have been banged up for a long, long time.’
    â€˜Ah yes,’ Forsyth agreed. ‘But I was only involved on the periphery of that little affair, and I must admit, I’d quite forgotten it.’
    â€˜You’re a liar!’ Paniatowski said.
    Forsyth smiled. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh, Chief Inspector?’ he asked mildly.
    â€˜A man like you doesn’t forget,’ Paniatowski told him. ‘You hoard every dirty trick you’ve ever pulled in some festering corner of your mind, and when you’ve got a little time free you re-live each and every one of them, and tell yourself what a splendid patriot you are.’
    For a moment it looked as if Forsyth would lose his equanimity, then his face settled back into its bland mask
    â€˜As much as I might enjoy these gentle sparring sessions of ours, we both know that they’re of no real consequence,’ he said, his voice hardening almost imperceptibly. ‘We both know, in fact, that I’m here for a purpose, that eventually I will tell you what I want you to do to fulfil your part in that purpose, and that you will do it – because you have no choice in the matter.’
    He was right, Paniatowski thought. Even Charlie Woodend had had to bend to the might of the Secret Service.
    â€˜Tell me what you want,’ she said.
    â€˜I want you to investigate the murder of Andrew Adair as you would investigate any other murder. But I want to be kept abreast of all your findings.’
    â€˜Why?’ Paniatowski asked.
    â€˜That’s really none of your concern,’ Forsyth said dismissively.
    â€˜It might help my investigation to know why you’re interested in him,’ Paniatowski pointed out.
    â€˜Possibly it would,’ Forsyth conceded.
    â€˜But you’re still not going to tell me?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜I assume he was working for you.’
    â€˜If it makes you happy to assume that, my dear chief inspector, then by all means feel free to do so.’
    â€˜But you’re still not going to tell me in what capacity Adair was working for you?’
    â€˜Since I’ve refused to even confirm that he was working for me, that seems highly unlikely.’
    â€˜So let me see if I’ve got this straight,’ Paniatowski said. ‘You want me to catch the killer for you, but you don’t want to tell me anything that might assist me in catching him?’
    She looked down at her hand, and was surprised to discover that, without even realizing it – and certainly without appreciating it – she had drunk the vodka that Forsyth had poured for her.
    Seeing the look of self-disgust on her face, the spy smiled briefly at his small triumph.
    â€˜As I think I’ve already explained, in terms simple enough for anyone to understand,’ he said, ‘what I want you to do is treat this particular case as you would treat any other, except that you will be keeping me appraised of the details.’
    The air in her office was thick with cigarette smoke when Paniatowski entered it, a clear indication that her team were as worried as she had been by the unexpected summons – though they, as yet, had no idea what they should be worried about .
    â€˜Do you remember