Was Martina important in the game then? Or were they just chosen at random? Of the two, Martina was the more interesting. At least she would have been if they knew anything about her. She’d arrived in Southampton only two months ago. She had no friends, no family, no social security number. She was a blank sheet. Which in itself was interesting.
Helen took the interviews alone. Regulations said she needed someone with her, but she was paying no heed to that now. She couldn’t afford any more leaks. But just as she was finishing off, news came that changed everything. Finally a chance to find out for certain who had been selling them down the river.
Mickery had resurfaced.
He really needed a drink. The last few days had been torture and his body, his brain, his soul ached for the release of alcohol. The first sip was always the best – you didn’t have to be an alcoholic to know that – and he was straining every sinew now to resist the short walk to the off licence.
He was out in the cold and had no idea why. Was it because he was weak? At the time crying on Helen had seemed the natural thing to do – open, honest, real – but perhaps she now despised him for his vulnerability. Did she regret sleeping with him? Or was it something else?
He hadn’t seen Charlie or Helen for days. They’d been out of the station, or locked in interview rooms together. The atmosphere between them was even more troubled than usual – Helen was short with Charlie at the best of times – something was going on. But at least Charlie existed in Helen’s world, which is more than Mark did.
It was late now, but Mark knew Charlie never missed her boxing class at the police gym. Come hell or high water she’d be there, which is why he was now loitering in the gym car park, drawing inquisitive looks from those that passed.
And here she was. Mark hurried over, calling her name. Charlie – who seconds earlier had been marching across the car park towards the gym – seemed to slow her pace a little. Was she panicking, buying herself a few seconds to work out how to deal with him? Who cares, thought Mark, and he dived straight in.
‘I don’t want to put you in an awkward spot, but I’ve got to know what’s going on, Charlie. What have I done?’
A brief pause, then:
‘I don’t know, Mark. She’s being a bitch to all of us at the moment. If I knew I’d tell you, I promise.’
She stumbled on – speaking a lot, but saying very little. Mark knew she was lying. She had never been a very good actress. But why? They had always got on, always been mates. What had Helen said to her?