‘But of course, that’s not just it, is it?’ I asked rhetorically as I yanked a few of the other files I had stolen from Cis’s office out of my bag and slapped them onto the table. They were copies, of course; I needed to cover my back somehow. ‘See, maybe it would be forgivable if the police had let this slip past them once, maybe even twice. But no. There wasn’t just one children’s home, there were three. Three children’s homes across London that didn’t get the funding they needed for vital repairs and work. And it wasn’t just children’s homes. Hospital clinics. Soup kitchens for the homeless. Housing for the vulnerable…and all those people came forward. All those people tried to take legal action, and through the power of police and politics, somehow it never made it to any courthouse.’
I leaned forward, fixing her with a cold hard stare, determined to drive the point home.
‘These community funds, grants and donations were created to help people, and Macleod, O’Neill and Clark used them as a way to line their own pockets. Nothing more to it than that. There was no political motive, no social objective; they did it purely out of greed. So, they could sit on a portion of the proceeds, while the world showered them with praise for being the good men they were.’
I thought I had maybe broken Vivian. I stared at the woman with her head firmly sat in her hands. She was partly to blame for all of this. She had taken the police oath just like everyone else at the station, and had betrayed a good portion of the vows she’d sworn by keeping all of Macleod’s corruption under wraps.
‘You really think you’re going to have a career in any police station after this, Gareth?’ she murmured, head still in hands.
‘I don’t want a career in the police. I want those two things, the name of the witness and the unredacted case files. Agree to them, and I’ll cancel the emails and go.’
Vivian repeatedly exhaled, puffing out small bursts of air as she walked back to her chair, clutching onto her dry, clumped strands of hair. I didn’t really have a contingency plan for what would happen if she had a heart attack.
‘How long do I have?’ she asked, almost pleadingly now.
‘Two minutes. I scheduled it to go out at 11.55, unless – of course – I cancel it from my phone.’
‘And why should I believe you?’
‘I mean, give it two minutes if you want. I’m sure your phone will be ringing off the hook after that, and then you’ll have your answer about whether I’m telling the truth.’
I could see her weighing up the options, small beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead as she stood with her arms planted on the surface of her desk.
‘How do I know that you won’t just send it to the press after you’ve got what you want?’ she asked, going through all the possible options in her head.
‘Why would I do that? How would that help me? After this, you’ll have my letter of resignation on your desk, and you’ll never see me again.’
‘Even if Fran is still found guilty?’
‘A deal’s a deal.’
I let Vivian think it over for a minute. I knew I was throwing Cis in hot water, too, but I had this pretty certain feeling that she would be more than willing to screw both Fran and I over for herself. After all, what a great career move this had been for her. It’d surely put her in the good graces of the powers that be. But she really never should have given me her email login.
I looked back to Vivian. She was still making what looked like bad attempts at breathing exercises, pursing her lips and panting small pumps of air, gulping and swallowing before attempting to push the air back out again.
‘Just wanted to let you know it’s 11.54,’ I remarked.
‘I know what time it is,’ she barked at me, and took a few more breaths before shaking her head, considering her options between the devil and the deep blue sea.
‘Stop the emails,’ she said, hanging her head in defeat. ‘I’ll give you the name of the man, along with his address, and I’ll send you the full unredacted case files of what we have on O’Neill, Clark, and the rest of them. But I’ll only give them to you in print. I don’t want any digital footprint leading back to me.’
I did a small nod, as if that was acceptable terms. Vivian’s eyes widened as she glanced towards the clock, the colour completely drained from her face. Her stare then focused a few degrees downwards, straight towards the phone nestled in my pocket. I thought it would be cruel to keep her in suspense any longer.
‘Oh, the email was only scheduled to go to you,’ I said as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pressed the pause button on the audio recording. ‘It should come through any minute now.’
Vivian looked more baffled than angry as she heard the ring of new email rattle through her antique computer. She squinted, somewhat bemused, somewhat saddened, but absolutely furious with me.
‘Just remember, if at any time you decide to try anything stupid: I have copies,’ I said, with what I hoped was a threatening look.
‘You know, Fran will still probably go to prison. Maybe now you can help her get a few less years, but even with what you have, Fran is still a pretty convincing suspect for a jury,’ said Vivian. She didn’t sound vengeful, oddly enough. It almost came across as if she understood why I’d done what I had.
‘Maybe,’ I replied, somewhat coolly. ‘But I still have to try.’
Vivian dragged her hand across her face, stretching her dark bags beneath her eyes as she tilted her head up to the ceiling.
‘Or maybe you’ve just cost us both of our careers,’ she said contemplatively, sounding slightly mad with despair.
‘Oh, you’ll be fine,’ I said reassuringly, tucking my phone into my pocket and lifting myself off the chair without Vivian’s permission for the first and last time. ‘You have my word, you won’t see me around here again. I’ll hand in my resignation in a few days’ time, no matter the verdict, and we can blame it all on the stress of the job and the trial. No one will bat an eyelid.’
