and Rita stood in front of the desk like truants before a headmaster.
There was a feeling of inquisition, and Rita was suddenly aware of being the lowest-ranking officer in the room, not to mention the only woman.
Nash looked down at the report sheets spread in front of him, frowned, took off his glasses and waved them impatiently. ‘This case you’re working on - the blind prostitute - are you getting anywhere with it?’
‘We’re narrowing the field,’ answered Strickland carefully.
Nash’s gaze focused on him. ‘And what exactly does that mean?’
‘While we’re waiting for the DNA results, we’re getting through a lot of interviews, eliminating potential suspects. As you know, we’ve only got a vague description to go on. We’re also chasing what leads we’ve got - the car, T-shirt, bondage gear, and so on.’
Nash knew the sound of evasion when he heard it. ‘So would you say you’re making progress?’
Strickland hesitated, sensing a procedural pitfall in front of him.
‘It’s early days yet, but I’d say we are. The DNA should make all the difference.’
‘Let’s hope so. The longer this goes on, the longer we have the media on our backs. And that’s just the first cock-up in your investigation.’
Strickland swallowed hard and said nothing. He stood rebuked.
Nash was more than just a high-ranking officer, he was also an accomplished bureaucrat and an expert at internal politics. Assigning blame was part of his expertise. The cold-hearted stare over his steel-rimmed glasses had curtailed more than one career.
Nash turned his unsmiling gaze on Rita and said, ‘Which brings us to a cock-up of monumental proportions. What on earth possessed you to go barging in on Tony Kavella?’
‘I was following a lead,’ she said, puzzled. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what the problem is.’
Nash answered with a sigh of irritation. ‘The problem is that Kavella’s out of bounds. He has been for three months. Since his acquittal, in fact. That’s how long the Taskforce Nero surveillance operation has been in place.’
‘Surveillance?’
‘You’ve jeopardised that entire investigation. A huge amount of work and police hours could now be wasted. And worse still, if you’ve alerted Kavella, he may actually achieve what we’re trying to prevent.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Rita feebly.
‘He’s putting together an alliance of rival organisations on a scale we’ve never had to deal with before. A sophisticated partnership of criminal gangs - diversified through drug smuggling, distribution, counterfeiting, tax fraud, illegal immigration, money laundering, extortion. It’s an extremely clever move in the wake of Melbourne’s underground wars, given their high body count. And it poses a huge threat. Get the picture?’
Rita had a sudden feeling of nausea, realising she’d committed a career-wrecking blunder. She wanted to believe it wasn’t her fault
- that she wasn’t to blame because she’d been told nothing of the surveillance. But in her heart she knew she’d been too eager to go after Kavella again. Revenge had clouded her judgement.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all she could think to say. ‘I didn’t know about the operation.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ said Nash brutally. ‘It was on a need-to-know basis. But in any case there are procedures to follow before questioning a suspect. Professional discipline must always come before inspired guesswork.’
Like Strickland, she stood rebuked. But she knew that last comment - about guesswork - had a malicious undertone. It was personal, and she knew it. Nash set no store by criminal profiling and disapproved of her psychological training. To him it was a distraction and, more to the point, foreign to the process of real police work. In his opinion she was being indulged as a woman and pampered because of her academic background. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone in that view.
‘Did you check with your senior
There was a feeling of inquisition, and Rita was suddenly aware of being the lowest-ranking officer in the room, not to mention the only woman.
Nash looked down at the report sheets spread in front of him, frowned, took off his glasses and waved them impatiently. ‘This case you’re working on - the blind prostitute - are you getting anywhere with it?’
‘We’re narrowing the field,’ answered Strickland carefully.
Nash’s gaze focused on him. ‘And what exactly does that mean?’
‘While we’re waiting for the DNA results, we’re getting through a lot of interviews, eliminating potential suspects. As you know, we’ve only got a vague description to go on. We’re also chasing what leads we’ve got - the car, T-shirt, bondage gear, and so on.’
Nash knew the sound of evasion when he heard it. ‘So would you say you’re making progress?’
Strickland hesitated, sensing a procedural pitfall in front of him.
‘It’s early days yet, but I’d say we are. The DNA should make all the difference.’
‘Let’s hope so. The longer this goes on, the longer we have the media on our backs. And that’s just the first cock-up in your investigation.’
Strickland swallowed hard and said nothing. He stood rebuked.
Nash was more than just a high-ranking officer, he was also an accomplished bureaucrat and an expert at internal politics. Assigning blame was part of his expertise. The cold-hearted stare over his steel-rimmed glasses had curtailed more than one career.
Nash turned his unsmiling gaze on Rita and said, ‘Which brings us to a cock-up of monumental proportions. What on earth possessed you to go barging in on Tony Kavella?’
‘I was following a lead,’ she said, puzzled. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what the problem is.’
Nash answered with a sigh of irritation. ‘The problem is that Kavella’s out of bounds. He has been for three months. Since his acquittal, in fact. That’s how long the Taskforce Nero surveillance operation has been in place.’
‘Surveillance?’
‘You’ve jeopardised that entire investigation. A huge amount of work and police hours could now be wasted. And worse still, if you’ve alerted Kavella, he may actually achieve what we’re trying to prevent.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Rita feebly.
‘He’s putting together an alliance of rival organisations on a scale we’ve never had to deal with before. A sophisticated partnership of criminal gangs - diversified through drug smuggling, distribution, counterfeiting, tax fraud, illegal immigration, money laundering, extortion. It’s an extremely clever move in the wake of Melbourne’s underground wars, given their high body count. And it poses a huge threat. Get the picture?’
Rita had a sudden feeling of nausea, realising she’d committed a career-wrecking blunder. She wanted to believe it wasn’t her fault
- that she wasn’t to blame because she’d been told nothing of the surveillance. But in her heart she knew she’d been too eager to go after Kavella again. Revenge had clouded her judgement.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all she could think to say. ‘I didn’t know about the operation.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ said Nash brutally. ‘It was on a need-to-know basis. But in any case there are procedures to follow before questioning a suspect. Professional discipline must always come before inspired guesswork.’
Like Strickland, she stood rebuked. But she knew that last comment - about guesswork - had a malicious undertone. It was personal, and she knew it. Nash set no store by criminal profiling and disapproved of her psychological training. To him it was a distraction and, more to the point, foreign to the process of real police work. In his opinion she was being indulged as a woman and pampered because of her academic background. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone in that view.
‘Did you check with your senior
Similar Books
