She took a deep breath and paused at the doors. Was she really going to do this? She had said last night that she didn’t care about rank, but was she putting too much on the line to work with Sparks on this case? The question had kept her awake for most of the night, but she kept coming back to Lacey Greene and Janelle Robinson, their bodies dumped like rubbish… And Janelle’s circumstances had affected her deeply. Here was a girl born with nothing, who went through life with nothing, and then in death was thought of as nothing. Another runaway turns up dead, terrible, awful, but shit happens, case closed.
It was a similar attitude which had rankled her when she first came to the UK on an au pair’s visa. She was paid a pittance, and the prevailing attitude was that Eastern Europeans weren’t worth quite as much as people from the West. ‘We’re disposable people,’ a Polish girl had told her on the long coach ride across Europe. This was why, in later years, Erika had striven to rise through the ranks in the police force, to show she was an asset. That she wasn’t disposable.
She was still unsure of her decision, but she pushed open the door and went inside. It was a vast open-plan office, and several groups of desks were partitioned off with glass. She moved past teams working: in one an officer was briefing his team about a case; pictures on a board behind him showed a row of burnt bodies laid out, and close images on each, features melted in a crisp mask of pain.
Erika approached a young uniformed officer by a photocopier.
‘I’m looking for Superintendent Sparks?’
‘Right down the end,’ she replied.
Erika thanked her and moved off, past commanding views of snow-covered rooftops and the sky hanging low over the buildings like a sheet of slate. When she reached the end of the office, Sparks was standing against a series of large whiteboards, surrounded by a team of ten officers. Piles of case files were stacked ominously beside him. Erika recognised the case he was briefing: a triple murder in a North London pub. He looked terrible, exhausted and washed out, and was leaning on the corner of a table, using his free hand to emphasise his point. He saw her at the back and gave her a curt nod, but carried on speaking.
‘As I say, the family is going to close ranks pretty fast, and they’ve got one hell of a history. I need their movements cross-checked before we split them up for questioning.’
As he moved off towards a row of glass doors at the end, chatter rose in the team. Erika hurried over to catch him up.
‘I got in contact with Melanie last night,’ he said. ‘I gave her everything we talked about. She’s now following up the death of… of…’
‘Janelle Robinson,’ finished Erika.
‘Yeah. She’s gone over to Croydon to look at where her body was discovered, and talk to the neighbours.’
‘Will you be briefing her team about my involvement in the case?’
‘Yeah. This afternoon. The info you gave had to be checked up on, so we rescheduled. Come back at four.’
He reached a frosted glass door, moved through and went to close it. She held out her hand, stopping him. ‘Andy, I meant what I said last night. I will work with you, but please, no games.’
He stopped to stare at her. His eyes were bloodshot.
‘And you heard me when I said that I’m deluged. You know the score, things change. It was a priority that Melanie and her team followed up on what you brought to me. Steven Pearson can only be held for another twenty-four hours before we have to charge him or let him go.’
‘And she couldn’t have picked up the phone before I came into London?’ snapped Erika.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Get me involved now. I don’t want to sit around all day.’
He stared at her again through those bloodshot eyes, and then indicated to her to come into his office.
‘Thank you,’ said Erika. She went through to his office and closed the door.
Sparks moved to a set of shelves behind the desk which was packed with files. He rubbed at his left arm, and scrabbled around for a packet of painkillers. His skin seemed to drain of what little colour he had left, and a sheen of sweat appeared. Sparks popped a couple of tablets from the foil and swallowed them down without water, wincing. He went to the phone on his desk, but then hesitated, gritting his teeth in pain.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Erika, moving to the seat opposite his desk.
‘Jesus! Do I look bloody okay?’ He paused over the phone keypad, taking deep breaths. ‘What’s her number again?’
He started to move around the desk, but staggered. He grabbed for the edge, but his arm gave way and he crashed face down onto the carpet.
‘Shit!’ cried Erika, rushing around to him. She turned him over and he was making ragged gasping noises, sweat pouring from his grey face. He clutched at his left arm, and clawed at his shirt collar.
‘My chest… I can’t… breathe. My arm, the pains,’ he wheezed. His bloodshot eyes bulged hideously.
Erika quickly unfastened his shirt collar and loosened his tie. She gently pulled him up to a sitting position, propping him up against the edge of the desk.
‘I need you to keep calm, and breathe,’ she said.
He clutched at his left arm, pouring with sweat and shivering. She took off her long leather jacket and draped it over him. He started to groan and wheeze, flecks of spit building in the corners of his mouth.
‘Please, help me,’ he gasped.
Erika moved around the desk and picked up his phone, finding it strangely ironical that she was calling the emergency services from one of the largest police stations in Central London.
‘It’s a police officer,’ she said when she got through. ‘I think he’s having a heart attack.’ She gave all the details and then slammed the phone down, rushing back to Sparks. He was now a deathly grey, and frothing at the mouth. ‘Aspirin, Andy, do you have aspirin?’
He coughed and a fine spray of foam filled the air. She moved to the shelf where he kept the painkillers, but they were all paracetamol. She then started to rifle through the drawers of his desk. Sparks was now trying to stand; he got half up, but his legs flailed uselessly and he slid down again, hitting the back of his head on the corner of the desk.
‘Please, stay still, the ambulance is coming,’ said Erika, moving to crouch beside him. She draped the jacket over him again, and then ran to his office door and yanked it open, shouting: ‘I need help in here! He’s having a heart attack.’
Faces turned to see what was going on, merely curious.
‘Superintendent Sparks has collapsed. He’s having a heart attack. I need help!’ she shouted.
Suddenly people leapt to life, and two male officers dashed over, followed by one of the officers Sparks had addressed just minutes earlier.
Erika went back into the office, and felt her blood roar in her ears as she turned and saw Sparks had toppled over and lay on the carpet on his side. She moved to him, and gently turned him over onto his back. His lips were now starting to turn blue. He looked up at her with fear in his eyes.
‘My wife… Tell her… I love her… The money from our account… They’ll freeze it…’ he croaked.
‘Andy, you are going to be okay, do you hear me?’ she said.
The office was now filling up with officers who were milling around uselessly, watching. His hand came up and grabbed for hers, but it fell back down and hit the carpet.