A Traitor to Memory

“Right. But what we didn't know—”

“That'll do, Havers,” Lynley said. The two of them exchanged a long look before Barbara said airily, “Oh. Right. Well, I'm off, then,” and with a friendly nod at Nkata, she walked towards her car.

In the immediate aftermath of this brief exchange, Nkata felt the unspoken reprimand in Lynley's decision to keep from him what was obviously a new piece of information which he and Barbara had uncovered. Nkata realised he deserved to be left in the dark in this way—God knew he'd certainly not shown he possessed the requisite level of skill to do the right thing with a valuable new fact—but at the same time he thought he'd been circumspect enough with his recitation of his morning's cock-up so as not to be thought of as a complete incompetent. That obviously hadn't been the case.

Nkata felt all the misery of his position. He said, “'Spector, you want me off this now?”

“Off what, Winston?”

“The case. You know. 'F I can't talk to two birds without making a mess of things …”

In reply, Lynley looked completely confused, and Nkata knew he'd have to go further, admitting what he preferred to keep buried. He directed his gaze to Barbara, who'd climbed into her soup-tin car and was in the process of revving the Mini's sorely tried engine. He said, “I mean, 'f I don't know what to do with a fact when I got a fact, I guess I c'n see how you might not want me to have a fact in the first place. But that doesn't give me a full hand, which c'n make me less effective, right? Not that I showed how 'ffective I was this morning, of course. So what I'm saying's … if you want me off the case … What I'm saying's I understand. I should've known how to approach those two birds. 'Stead of thinking I knew everything, I should've thought there might be something I wasn't seeing. But I didn't, did I? So when I talked to them, I ballsed it up. And—”

“Winston,” Lynley cut in firmly. “A hair shirt might be appropriate, given the circumstance—whatever it is—but I assure you, the cat o' nine tails can be dispensed with.”

“What?”

Lynley smiled. “You've a brilliant career ahead of you, Winnie. No blots on your copy book, unlike the rest of us. I'd like to see you keep it that way. Do you understand?”

“That I cocked things up? That another cock-up'd mean a formal—”

“No. That I'd like to keep you in the clear should …” Uncharacteristically, Lynley paused in what seemed like the search for a phrase that would explain something without revealing what he was explaining. He settled on, “Should our procedures come under scrutiny later on, I'd prefer them to be mine and not yours,” and he made the statement with such delicacy, that Nkata followed it with a leap to comprehension once he put Lynley's words together with what Barbara Havers had inadvertently revealed just before leaving them.

He said in disbelief, “Holy God. You on to something you're keeping quiet about?”

Lynley said wryly, “Job well done. You didn't hear that from me.”

“Barb knows 'bout it?”

“Only because she was there. I'm responsible, Winston. I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Could it take us to the killer, what you're on to?”

“I don't think so. But yes, it may do.”

“Is it evidence?”

“Let's not discuss that.”

Nkata couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Then you got to turn it in! You got to 'stablish the chain. You can't not hand it over 'cause you think … What do you think?”

“That the hit-and-runs are probably connected but that I need to see exactly how they're connected before I make a move that could destroy someone's life. What's left of it. It's my decision, Winnie. And to protect yourself, I suggest you don't ask any more questions.”

Nkata studied the DI, not believing that Lynley, of all people, should be operating in a grey area. He knew that he could insist and end up in there with him—with Barbara as well—but he was ambitious enough to heed the wisdom in the inspector's words. Still, he said, “Wish you wouldn't go at it like this, man.”

“Objection noted,” Lynley said.

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