Page 144 of Hard Heart

That was the moment Demelza chose to walk in with Priest trailing behind her. Great. She was a small lady in her mid-fifties, and she reminded Jez of Jackie Kennedy. Dressed like her too, in boxy skirt suits and sensible shoes. Priest was ten years younger, but he wore his blond hair like a surfer and his weathered skin as a badge of honour. His biceps strained at yet another Hawaiian shirt, but he’d swapped his usual flip-flops for a pair of battered trainers. Let his appearance fool you at your peril.

“How are you feeling?” Demelza asked.

Jez had hoped to avoid them for a while because she felt like shit, but now they were here, so she might as well get the discussion over with. She wasn’t one to shy away from a difficult subject.

“I’m feeling like I have five broken bones and a concussion. And I’m also wondering whether Priest knows my father is still alive and working undercover with Compass, or if it’s just you?”

She watched their faces carefully. Priest didn’t try to hide his confusion, and Demelza didn’t show any. Fuck. That shady-ass bitch.

“You didn’t think at any point when we were wading into this mess that it might have been a good idea to, you know, fucking warn us?”

“I wasn’t aware Compass was involved.”

“But you did know about Compass? About my father?”

“It’s complicated.”

“No fucking kidding. I asked you whether you had any knowledge of him, and you said your paths never crossed. I have a Top Secret security clearance—you don’t think you could have told me he was still alive?”

“Information about Jericho is compartmentalised, divulged on a need-to-know basis only.”

“I nearly died last night. You don’t think I needed to fucking know?”

“As I said, this bore no hallmarks of a Compass-related op initially. I cut you some slack to handle what was essentially a personal issue, and then it blew up.”

“So now it’s my fault?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?” Priest asked. “When I came out of retirement to lead this team, I did so on the proviso that there would be full transparency with the folks at the sharp end. You expect the girls to be out there dealing with life-threatening situations, and yet you’re still handing out information like it’s candy and they’re on a diet? I’ve already quit once over this bullshit. I won’t hesitate to do it again.”

“There was a meeting scheduled for this morning to discuss Grafton Fisk.”

“Why this morning? Why not last night if you thought he was a problem?”

“She was probably too busy screwing her landscaper,” Echo muttered.

“What did you say?” Demelza demanded.

“You’re not paying him three hundred bucks a week just to mow stripes into your lawn.”

“How dare you speak to me that way? This is your workplace.”

“Hello? I’m freelance, and it’s not as if I need this dumbass job. I’m also happy to quit.”

Spider raised a hand. “Ditto. I’m here because I have daddy issues, not because I need the money.”

“What’s the going rate for freelance these days?” Tulsa asked.

“Plenty. I might take a vacay first, though.”

“Enough!” Demelza slumped into a chair. “Fine, I messed up. I’m sorry.”

“Start talking,” Priest told her. “If you ever hold back information and put this team in the line of fire again, you won’t have a team.”

“Compass was started by a group of men who wanted to ensure morality in American society. A return to the nuclear family, a husband as head of the household, life centred around the church. Several of the more traditional cells still have that focus. But as happens with so many things when money gets involved, the mission became corrupted. The original members would identify a problematic target in a position of power and search out his sins. They’d gather evidence and use it as leverage. A Member of Congress is holding up funding for a new school the city desperately needs, and he’s also having an affair? They’d take photos of him with his mistress, then threaten to tell his wife if he didn’t step aside at the next election.”

“So their candidate could take his place?” Dice asked.