13
When the meeting finished, Irvine and Armstrong waited while the room cleared, then went to the front of the room.
Warren came around the table and stood in front of them, leaning back against the table edge.
‘Now you know what we’re dealing with,’ Warren said to Irvine. ‘Kenny’s been immersed in this for a while and doesn’t think that we’re going to get anywhere by focusing on our usual sources.’
‘We won’t,’ Armstrong said.
Warren smiled, like a parent dealing with an irascible child. Irvine wondered if there was tension in the relationship between the two men.
‘My view’, Warren said, ‘is that we need to look at this from all angles. Leave no stone unturned, if you know what I mean.’
Irvine didn’t want to get stuck on the wrong side of a fight.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.
‘I want Kenny to brief you on the local drugs scene, the supply chain and the like. Give you a feel for what we’re dealing with. Then he’ll take you on a tour of the earlier crime scenes. How does that sound?’
‘Fine by me.’
‘Good,’ Warren said, straightening up.
Warren left the room and Irvine followed Armstrong to the table where the coffee was, picking up a shortbread biscuit and taking a bite.
‘You don’t like the DG?’ Irvine asked.
Armstrong looked sideways at her.
‘He’s all right for a boss. I mean he’s a purist, you know. A bad bastard, if you’re a criminal. And he didn’t take the DG job for political reasons.’
Irvine had always assumed a job like DG of the SCDEA was a way to make a career splash. A politician’s job, not a real cop.
‘Why, then?’
‘Because he wants to do something about the shit that flows through this country. The drugs, I mean. He’s about as straight a cop as you’ll find anywhere.’
‘How did this thing start?’
‘I flagged it up to my syndicate leader, DI Fraser, and from there it went up the chain fast. The DG likes to keep his hand in on operational matters. Doesn’t like sitting behind a desk all day.’
‘He came up with the name of the op?’
Armstrong nodded. ‘He wants people to think he has all the big ideas. Fine with me.’
Irvine took another bite from her biscuit and put the remains back on the plate. She liked shortbread but this stuff was cheap and not particularly good.
‘What about your DI?’ she asked. ‘What’s he like?’
Armstrong picked up her half-biscuit and put it all in his mouth. Irvine didn’t know what to make of that.
‘Now, he is a politician. More concerned about his next promotion than anything else.’
Armstrong scrunched his cup before throwing it into the bin.
‘Look, never mind me. I’m crabby today because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in about a week and we’re getting exactly nowhere with this investigation. And then the girl this morning …’
He didn’t finish that thought.
‘I’m not normally like this,’ he told her.
He tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing.
Irvine didn’t mind crabby, so long as there was good reason. She kind of liked him, in spite of his poorly developed social skills.
‘Where to now?’ she asked.
‘Want a tour of my nightmare?’