London Circle

By Mary Stout

The year is 2013, London, England. Whitechapel is the place of historical murders and a number of unsolved homicides. Now there's a threat on the streets. Young men are being targeted and murdered with no evidence pointing to the killer. MI5 is about to shut down, and MI6 is gaining more power. Lesley Ashcroft, the face and the brains behind the government, is threatened and must find a way to protect his position and his control of their nation. He creates a team to help him, but they can only operate under the government's nose. No one can know. Together with Malcolm Vance and Julian Radcliffe, a detective sergeant with a drive for justice no matter the cost and a psychologist with a knack for profiling, they need to find the killer before MI6 decides to step in and find the killer themselves.

If they fail, they stand to lose everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662436857

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lesley knew the moment he saw the director of MI6 stand from the table that he was in big trouble…

He watched, jaw tensing, as the older man walked around the table to stop in the middle of the room, putting the same amount of space between himself and Lesley, his hands clasped behind his back in a fashion that showed he was used to being in charge. Lesley drilled his gaze past the man to focus on the five people seated at the long table opposite them.

Do tell us, Mr. Ashcroft, why you believe that MI5 should continue to have any involvement with our government, the director asked in clipped, even tones, his eyes searching Lesley’s averted gaze.

Lesley forced himself to sit straighter, straightening the front of his suit jacket as he moved. There was no way he was going to let this man walk all over him. Because it has been the backbone of our government for decades. It has decades of experience in some of our country’s worst cases and has done everything we’ve asked of it. He finally allowed his gaze to meet those of the director’s, not blinking once. MI6 will never be half the force that MI5 is.

The director chuckled, his lips curling into a private amused grin that Lesley hated just as much as his laugh. MI6 has already surpassed its predecessor in every area you’ve just described. It is MI5 that will never be half the force that MI6 has become and will continue to become.

Lesley clenched his hands together in front of him, fighting the urge to stand and shout in the director’s face. MI5 has been our government’s sole intelligence operative for years. It has failed us not once in all that time. Lesley knew his argument was futile, but he was unwilling to back down.

That is true, Mr. Ashcroft. Thankfully, one of the other officials at the table spoke before the director of MI6 could. We owe the agency a great debt, one we might not ever be able to repay. He paused, considering. But shouldn’t we be open enough to allow MI6 the right to prosper and grow?

Prospering and growth is one thing, Lesley countered, meeting his colleague’s eyes, ignoring the staring, penetrating eyes of the director. Allowing it to take MI5’s place is quite another.

The other officials grew quiet, exchanging glances with one another. The director walked by Lesley a few feet, his frustration obvious by the brisk force behind his steps. Lesley knew he had them all in a disadvantage. It was no secret to any of them—nay, all of them—that MI6 wanted to take MI5’s place at the government’s table. In Lesley’s eyes, that couldn’t happen. No agency should ever be stronger than the government it served.

I am well aware of the positives such an action would employ, Lesley spoke when the silence became too much; he knew he had to get his point across while he still could. But need I remind you all that there’re disadvantages as well. If we allowed MI6 to take MI5’s place, to allow them to retire an entire body of our intelligence simply because they are more advanced, would we not be pacifying a monster?

A monster? The director of MI6 laughed darkly, shaking his head. He paused at the side of Lesley’s chair, staring at him with disdain. That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think, Ashcroft?

Lesley glared up at the director, unable to hide his frustration. It’s not a stretch at all, sir, because that is what will happen if you get your wish.

The director’s face fell, all dark humor gone in a breath of anger.

Ashcroft, another member of the government reprimanded, his tone gruff and thick, we are here to discuss this matter like gentlemen and officials, not like boys. He looked between Lesley and the director, eyes stern. Leave the squabbling for your personal lives, not your professional ones.

Lesley swallowed roughly and managed a weak nod in the man’s direction. My apologies, Mr. Forest.

Mr. Forest nodded in acceptance. Now we’ve listened to all your grievances and thoughts on the matter at hand, but at the end of the day, it is the decision of all of us that matters, not one. Our country is run by its government, not by a lone official.

Lesley knew at once that he was not going to like what he would hear next. Beside him, the director tensed, preparing himself.

We value your worries and your thoughts on this matter, Ashcroft, the other official continued for his colleague, but we believe that there’re more positives in this affair than negatives. Therefore, we’ve decided to allow MI6 to replace MI5 as our government’s top intelligence agency.

Lesley felt the floor give out from under him, and he was pleased he was sitting down. Beside him, he heard the director let out a heavy breath, not even bothering to hide his pleasure and relief that he had won the vote.

However, by allowing MI6 to become our top branch of intelligence, there must be rules, Forest added after a moment.

The director froze, eyes pinned on the other members of the government. Lesley stared too, hopeful and nervous at the same time.

The agency must be prepared to obey any orders handed down in a matter of national security, Mr. Forest went on. They must update us on all its cases, no matter how small, and any military action must be passed by us before they act.

Lesley’s mouth dropped opened, but he quickly recovered himself. Beside him, the director looked beyond pleased by the terms, terms that Lesley knew he had no intention of following. Those are very agreeable terms, the director conceded with a dip of his chin.

Mr. Forest nodded to him then turned his gaze to Lesley. Do you agree that those are reasonable terms, Ashcroft?

Lesley sat forward in his chair, prepared to argue about the flaws in those terms and how he knew MI6 would not follow them, but a firm hand grabbed hold of his shoulder. The director gave his shoulder a firm, rough squeeze, a warning made to look like a friendly gesture.

Swallowing, Lesley forced himself to nod. Yes, sir, I do. The hand on his shoulder tightened in response.

Very well, Mr. Forest looked pleased, although his eyes lingered on the way Lesley’s face tightened. We will convene again very soon. He rose from his chair, and the other members followed suit. Director, you will meet us at Parliament next week to finalize this arrangement.

The director gave a respectful bow of his head. Yes, sir.

Lesley watched, fuming angrily to himself, as the other members of their government quickly filed out of the large room, leaving him alone with the director. It wasn’t until after the room cleared that the director released his hold on Lesley’s shoulder.

MI6 is a monster, the director walked causally toward the now vacated table. Dark humor laced his voice again, darker this time than before. Do you honestly believe that childish thought?

Lesley rose from the chair, his shoulder burning from where the director had touched him. Of course I do, he replied, allowing the pent-up frustration to finally show in his voice. You know just as well as I do that if MI6 is allowed to become our sole intelligence—

That it’ll become one of the best assets our government has, the director cut across Lesley, turning on the spot to face the other man. MI6 was created to outgrow our government, Lesley. It wasn’t conceived with the goal to fall into the same orderly line as MI5.

Lesley shook his head, clenching his jaw.

You’re stuck in the past, Lesley. The director slowly approached the younger man, his tone softening in a way that made it sound like he was consoling a child. I respect your loyalty to our government’s oldest branch of intelligence, but you have to see that it can’t lead us into the future.

You can’t take down MI5, Frederick, Lesley replied in a softened voice, but unlike the director’s, his was heavy with dire warning. There’s a reason why MI6 hasn’t been allowed to advance until now.

Frederick nodded, agreeing, but his eyes remained stoic and unmoved. And now it has. The pride in his voice, the triumph made Lesley’s skin crawl. You best say goodbye to your old friend because I will see to it that MI6 obliterates it completely.

Lesley glared daggers at the older man, tracing the familiar lines of the face he knew too well. The familiarity only made him angrier, and he balled his hands into fists at his sides.

Our government deserves an agency that can act and stand on its own, without the crutch of our laws. Frederick’s voice took on a reverence, his blue eyes brightening with each word he said. Our country needs an intelligence agency like MI6, and I intend to make them see that.

Lesley didn’t have any words to reply, his anger burning below the surface, shrouding his common sense in fury. The director had always had an agenda, even before he’d taken over MI6 when it was still a fledging agency. But this…this was much, much worse. No agency should ever try to surpass the reach of their government, no matter how benign their motives were.

Frederick took Lesley’s burning silence as his agreement because he smiled softly, his eyes glinting with pride. You’ll see my point eventually. I’m sure of it. He grasped Lesley’s arm, giving it a firm squeeze. Good day, Lesley.

Lesley breathed heavily through his nose as he listened to the director’s steps recede toward the door. Frederick, he barely spoke above a murmur.

The steps stopped. Yes?

You may be the director of MI6—Lesley turned around to stare defiantly at the director, his resolve deepening, hardening against the anger that rolled through him—"but I am the British government, and I will not let you get away with this."

Frederick chuckled in amusement, as if Lesley had just told him a joke that was only funny one-sided. I believe I already have. He opened the door, allowing hallway light to flood into the dimly lit conference chamber. Good night, Mr. Ashcroft.

Lesley closed his eyes as he heard Frederick leave, his footsteps receding down the hallway until the sound ended altogether.

As Lesley left the conference chamber a few minutes later, he pulled out his mobile and quickly typed in his assistant’s number. Agatha, he said the moment he heard the ringing stop as she answered, meet me in my office in five minutes.

Of course, sir, his assistant’s voice came through the line, surprised and little caught off guard by the sharpness in her boss’s voice. What—

Lesley hung up before she could ask her question; he pocketed his phone as he got onto the elevator and pressed the button for the 00 floor. When Lesley had taken his position in the government, he’d insisted on taking the offices in the lowest level of the building. The gray stone walls added a level of security that the rest of the building above could not provide.

The second Lesley threw open the door to his office, his assistant dodged into the room from an opposite door. Sir? she said, standing almost at attention.

Lesley leveled an amused glance at her attention. At ease, Ms. Hastings. He crossed the room to his desk, collapsing into his chair and sighing loudly, massaging his temple.

She blinked rapidly, obviously confused, and moved to stand at the head of Lesley’s desk. Agatha was a short, petite woman of about thirty, with blond hair that fell past her chin. She wore a gray suit jacket over matching gray slacks and a white blouse. Her gray eyes took in the disgruntled outlines of her boss’s face. They passed it then? she asked, tilting her head curiously.

Lesley nodded. Took them barely a second to agree to Fredrick’s terms. He sighed, rubbing harder at his temple. Between you and me, I think they’d already made their decision before they called the meeting.

Agatha took a seat on one of the two black leather chairs that faced his desk, her confusion growing more obvious. I don’t see how then can pass it that quickly. Her eyes darted backward and forward in thought, obviously trying to make sense of it. Parliament would’ve had to have been consulted first beforehand, wouldn’t they?

Yes, and it’s obvious that our government doesn’t seem to care that they’re allowing a power-grabbing agency into their fold. Lesley’s voice rose in volume, his earlier agitation resurfacing with force. He sighed and slouched in his chair, his frustration giving away to exhaustion. They won’t realize their mistake until too late, and that’s only if they realize it at all.

Agatha nodded, but the look in her eyes was troubled. What about MI5?

They agree with Frederick, Lesley murmured. MI5 is an outdated branch of our government that should be shut down respectfully. He bunched the fingers that were rubbing his temple into a fist. He wins on both fronts, like always.

Agatha remained silent, studying her boss with the look of someone who knew that there was more to it, that he had more to say.

Our government does not need a power-hungry intelligence agency, Lesley continued after a solid minute of silence passed between them, his tone quiet. Our country needs order and stability to maintain it. Lesley looked across at Agatha, his eyes widening minutely in thought. But that does not mean our government can’t test the limits of its own boundaries without exceeding to the level that MI6 is attempting.

What…what are you thinking about, sir? Agatha looked nervous; she knew that look on her boss’s face, that feverish glow in his blue eyes.

Lesley sat forward, folding his arms on his desk. I am going to protect our government from itself. His idea was taking shape faster than the words were leaving his mouth. I’m going to create my own branch of intelligence, one that’ll act on the government’s behalf without breaking the boundaries.

Agatha’s eyes widened in shock. But…sir…no one official can create something like that. Its… She raised her hands, trying to think of the proper word for what her boss was describing. It’s borderline insubordination.

Lesley nodded. I’m glad to see you’re following.

Her face blanched.

It’s not insubordination if the branch follows the rules of its head, Lesley went on, wanting Agatha to see that his idea wasn’t completely mad. I will control every aspect of it, and I will make sure it stays well within the lines of our laws. But it’ll be allowed to test the limits on everyone.

Agatha still looked shocked, but Lesley could see borderline approval in her eyes.

What…what about the director?

Lesley’s soft smile vanished into a line, and his eyes hardened. He’s not the only one who can fool our government. His shoulder started to burn with the memory of the director’s hand on it, silencing and warning. Only I don’t intend to flaunt it in front of our superiors.

Agatha looked nervous again, and Lesley could read every protestation that flashed in her eyes. He knew her fears were warranted, all of them correct, but he didn’t care. His colleagues, his country were going to turn a blind eye to the biggest mistake of their decade. He had to take action.

Thank you, Agatha, he finally said in a dismissive tone.

Agatha got the hint and rose to her feet. She turned and headed for the door to his office, her steps hesitant, as if she really wanted to voice her fears but knew it wouldn’t help.

Agatha?

Agatha turned, her hand on the doorknob. Yes, sir?

Don’t worry. Lesley gave her the best consoling smile he could manage, which wasn’t very good at all. Leave the consequences to me.

Agatha swallowed hard and nodded. Yes, sir. She turned and left, pulling the door shut behind her.

The second she left, Lesley slouched further in his chair. Grunting, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and pulled at his tie, loosening the collar. He ran one hand through his dark ginger hair, his thoughts a blur.

The director’s parting words to him rang through his thoughts again, echoing in the silence that shrouded his office.

"I am the British government, Fredrick, Lesley said out loud, speaking no louder than a murmur, his resolve deepening. And I’m going to show you just what I can do."

Lesley had his plan in place, not the whole of it but its rough outline. He needed to create a team of his own, a small one. It would be small enough that it wouldn’t invoke the notice of MI6 or his fellow government officials but would have enough power behind it to make a difference.

With that in mind, Lesley knew who would be his first choice as a member. He fished his iPhone out of his suit pocket and quickly scanned through his contacts for the number. When the name popped up, he smiled at the screen, a genuine smile this time.

He’s not going to like this.

Chapter 2

Malcolm had been pacing the floor of the incident room for so long he was sure he’d made a sizable rut in the tiled floor. He paused briefly in his pacing to look down the way toward his commander’s closed office door, where he could barely make out two figures behind the frosted glass. Growling, he continued his pacing.

The moment he and his partner had returned from their inquiry, their commander had summoned the senior partner into his office and closed the door. Malcolm hadn’t been alarmed then, but now, nearly an hour later, his patience was wearing thin.

It’d better not be another tell off, Malcolm thought as he paused alongside his desk, leaning against the edge of it, his eyes fixing on Chief Inspector Richardson’s closed door. Not like the last one.

Nearly a month ago, Malcolm’s division had come across a murder case that, at the time, had seemed very cut and dry. But every time they’d come close to making an arrest or pursuing a theory, their CI would shut them down. At first, Malcolm had merely thought that Richardson was merely taking precautions; now he wasn’t so sure.

That morning, he and his partner had found a solid lead to the killer and had jumped on it the second they’d arrived at the station. But halfway through the enterprise, Malcolm’s partner had received a summons from their commander, telling them to come back to the station at once. Reluctantly they had abandoned their inquiry and returned to the incident room in H Division.

Malcolm tapped his fingers against the metal side of his desk, the silence in the incident room quickly creeping up on his uneasiness. He stared at his feet, toward the double door entrance of the room, and back to Richardson’s office.

What seemed like another hour later, the door to his commander’s office opened, and Malcolm’s partner stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. He spotted Malcolm and sighed under his breath before making his way between the two rows of desks toward his partner.

Malcolm straightened as his partner approached. So what’s the news? Malcolm nodded in the direction of Richardson’s office. Can we get back on the case?

Malcolm’s partner opened his mouth, clearly intending to say something, then closed it with a sigh.

Malcolm didn’t like the look on his partner’s face. Sam—he studied his senior partner’s face gravely, his pulse quickening in dread—what did Richardson say?

DI Samuel Rupert met Malcolm’s eyes. It’s another tell off, he said with no shortage of weariness. Chief says we need to drop all our inquiries at present.

Although he had been expecting this, Malcolm’s jaw still dropped open in disbelief. But…no! His voice echoed in the silence of the incident room. He…he can’t do that to us again.

He’s done it, Malcolm, Sam replied with another weary look at his partner. Best let it go, eh?

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. If I let it go, this case will never get solved! He stepped away from Sam and paced a foot or two away, his mind rushing to make sense of the news. He paused, a thought coming to him. Maybe that’s what he wants. He looked back over his shoulder at his partner.

His partner’s eyes widened at his words, but he quickly closed them. Not this again, he breathed softly almost to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose before opening his eyes to stare back at Malcolm. We’ve been over this, Malcolm.

Yes, we have, Malcolm agreed, and I still haven’t found any evidence suggesting anything different.

The weariness in his partner’s eyes grew even more at Malcolm’s zeal; he backed up to lean against the side of the desk opposite Malcolm’s, folding his arms across his chest. I thought I told you to drop this conspiracy of yours. He sounded like a father scolding his son’s behavior. You never listen to me.

And it’s a good thing I didn’t, Malcolm responded. Without another word, he stepped across the floor up to his partner who, even in a leaning position, was still a good few inches taller than him. Every time we come close to a new lead that actually has some bearing, that is actually useful, he cuts it off. Malcolm’s tone was quiet but hurried. Why do you think that is?

Inspector Rupert sighed and reclined his head, thinking. Because despite of what you think, most of our leads may have been wrong? He studied Malcolm through half-lidded eyes. That’s entirely possible.

Malcolm heaved a sigh and retreated, taking up his slow pacing of the floor. Or that there’s something more behind this case than a simple murder. He stopped, gazing into the frosted glass of their commander’s office.

Like what? Rupert asked, straightening up against the edge of the desk, his irritation at Malcolm’s deductions showing. That the murder was a cover-up to hide something else?

Malcolm merely stared at his partner, his eyes unmoving.

Rupert caught Malcolm’s moved expression, and his eyes widened in dread. Oh no… He pinched the bridge of his nose again. Malcolm, please tell me you don’t—

Of course I think that! Malcolm nearly shouted, dropping his tone when he remembered they were in a silenced incident room with their commander well within earshot. He moved back up to his partner, leaving barely a foot between them. Every single lead we’ve had, he’s shot down. Every time I’ve even broached the prospect of the case being a cover-up, fake evidence has shown up to lead us to a dead end.

Rupert opened his eyes and glared at Malcolm, his patience obviously gone. That doesn’t mean it’s a conspiracy, Malcolm, he reasoned, his tone subdued even though he was angry. "And it doesn’t mean he’s involved."

Malcolm took in his partner’s frustrated look and the anger in his tone that he was trying hard to cover up. A small suspicion he’d brooded on a few days previous resurfaced in his mind, but he ignored it when he spoke. I don’t believe in random, Sam, he replied almost defiantly. Everything, and everyone, has a falsity. He swallowed hard. Everyone.

Rupert met Malcolm’s steely look, brown eyes meeting hazel. And I suppose you found Richardson’s? It was a challenge, not a question.

Malcolm didn’t even hesitate; he retreated to his desk, took out a folder from his top drawer, and returned to his partner. Yes, I did. He held the folder out to him.

Rupert eyed the folder for a moment before he took it. With a sigh, he opened it and began to scan the pages. Within moments, his incredulous expression switched to horror then melted into a steely retreat. Where did you get this?

From a friend, Malcolm replied, his eyes pinned on his partner’s face the entire time.

Rupert nodded almost to himself before he closed the folder and handed it slowly back to Malcolm. Well, your ‘friend’ did his job well, it seems. Rupert looked back at Malcolm, his eyes unreadable. What do you intend to do with it?

Show it to Richardson and end this sorry excuse of a case once and for all. Malcolm turned and began making his way toward his commander’s office, determination flooding through him.

Malcolm had barely made it five steps when a hand grabbed his shoulder and guided him backward. Unprepared for the restraint, Malcolm stumbled but quickly caught himself as Rupert more or less pulled him back and stepped firmly in his way, blocking the way to the commander’s office.

I can’t let you do that, Malcolm, he said as he steadied his partner, his hands on Malcolm’s shoulders.

Malcolm couldn’t repress the shiver that racked his body at the roughness in his partner’s touch, nor could he shake off the uneasiness that gripped his stomach. At five-foot-three, Malcolm was small for a man, add in the fact that he was lithe and was somewhat on the curvy side of masculine. He had always been picked on for his height and his physical appearance, but he’d never let either affect him.

Until moments like this happened. His partner had hold of his shoulders, his grip firm but not bruising. Although he was trying to be restraint, Malcolm could tell that Rupert wouldn’t be above hurting him if he had to. For my own good or for Richardson’s… I can’t tell. The doubt made Malcolm’s heart pound even harder in both fear and uneasiness.

His partner must’ve seen that same fear in Malcolm’s eyes because his grip on his shoulders relaxed. If you go in there right now with this theory of yours, he began in a reasoned, even voice, although Malcolm could hear a note of restrain in his tone, you’ll be tossed out with a suspension and a chewed ear.

Malcolm knew that his partner was right, but he was firm on his desire to root out the truth. What do you suggest, Inspector Rupert? He gave his partner his best mischievous smile.

Rupert only halfheartedly returned it as he replied, I suggest, Sergeant Vance, that you go at it mildly and—a nervous chuckle touched his voice—with me present.

Malcolm opened his mouth but quickly closed it, letting his thoughts pull him in. He had planned to show Richardson his evidence in private; he didn’t want to drag his partner into it. Although seeing how Rupert had reacted to the evidence, he began to wonder if it might be a good idea.

Rupert took Malcolm’s silence as his agreement. He sighed and clapped Malcolm once on the shoulder, a reassuring gesture that sent a spike of uneasiness up Malcolm’s stiffened spine. Richardson wants me to prepare our evidence for the press conference tonight, he said, moving past Malcolm toward his own desk.

Malcolm watched him, still holding his evidence folder in his hands. What…what does he want me to do?

Rupert closed his desk drawer, pocketing his phone and his keys. Set about closing this case. Go make sure the lab reports are all square.

Malcolm sighed, clenching his jaw. He fiddled with the folder in his hands.

Do me a favor, Malcolm, Rupert said in a low voice.

Malcolm looked up at his partner, raising his eyebrows.

Put that folder of yours somewhere safe. Rupert’s tone was quiet, but Malcolm easily heard the warning in his words. This case was sensitive already, what with half our suspects ending up dead. None of us need you making it worse with your…hysterics.

Hysterics? Malcolm’s eyes widened, and he fought hard not to echo that word in a shout of indignation.

His partner saw his incredulous look because he moved closer and put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, his grip firmer than it had been a few moments ago. We’re closing this case today, all right?

Even without an arrest? Malcolm challenged, eyeing his partner closely. He knew that the press, let alone the city, wouldn’t like a case like this one end without a killer in custody.

Rupert’s eyes narrowed. Obviously, he heard the challenge in Malcolm’s tone. We’ve closed cases before without making an arrest. It’s not anything knew around here.

That’s for sure. Malcolm could remember several previous cases that they had investigated that hadn’t been solved, mainly because every suspect they brought in had either been released on false evidence or the leads they followed ended with nothing. No, Whitechapel wasn’t a stranger to letting the killers run free.

Don’t take it to heart, Malcolm. Rupert’s tone was comforting now, like a father soothing his son’s disappointment. You’re young, and you’re a fine sergeant. You’ll have plenty of other cases to solve and criminals to put to justice.

Malcolm knew arguing wouldn’t make anything better; he merely nodded and turned to walk out of the incident room, well aware of his partner watching him leave. Once he was safely outside, he walked down the long hallway in the direction of the small lab that H Division had.

Once he was outside the door, he paused, sighing heavily. He looked up the long hallway back toward the direction of the incident room. When he knew he was completely alone, he leaned back against the wall, dropping his head back against it. He ran a hand through unruly black hair, his anxiety and frustration rising to the surface.

A soft beep came from the pocket of his pants, startling him so bad he banged his head back against the wall. Wincing and rubbing the sore spot, he fished his mobile out of his pocket and looked at the screen, his eyes widening when he saw the new text notification. It read:

You showed Rupert the file

LA

Malcolm noted that the messenger didn’t even bother using a question mark; he obviously knew it was a fact rather than a question. With a sigh, he began typing a reply.

Didn’t really have a choice, did I?

MV

It barely took two seconds before the other man replied.

Irrelevant, you could have just ruined your chance

LA

Malcolm scoffed and shook his head. He looked both up and down the hallway; his unease at being watched trickled down his spine. Even though he knew he was completely alone, he still felt like the silence itself was watching him.

Another soft beep startled Malcolm, and he looked down at his mobile to see that his contact had texted him again. This time, it was a question he wasn’t expecting.

Press conference is tonight?

LA

Yes, at 6:00pm

MV

I’m sending a car for you, we need to speak before it begins

LA

Malcolm didn’t even bother answering; he knew it’d be hopeless to refuse or even try to give a reason why he couldn’t answer the summons. He quickly typed a reply before pocketing his phone, sighing heavily as his heart kicked against his chest.

To distract himself, Malcolm began to make his way up the hallway to the rear of the station where the doors opened to the parking lot. He knew Rupert and Richardson wouldn’t like him deviating from the duty they’d assigned him, but he really didn’t care. In his mind, he didn’t trust either of them anymore.

Barely ten minutes elapsed between his reply to his contact to the moment he heard the rumblings of a heavy sedan approaching the building. Malcolm opened the rear door of the building to see a black sedan pulling into the parking lot, sliding to a graceful stop barely five feet from the door. Without warning, one of the back passenger side doors swung open, signaling to him.

Without a thought, Malcolm got in, shutting the door behind him. The sedan was roomy in the back, the entire interior swathed in black leather. Two men were seated in the back with him. Sitting across from him was a man wearing a finely fitted dark-gray suit; his steely blue eyes traced every outline of Malcolm as he settled himself in the seat.

You do realize that by showing that file to your partner, you inadvertently announced everything you have uncovered. the man in the suit said the moment Malcolm was settled, his smooth voice crisp and firm with intelligence.

Malcolm sighed and sat back. Rupert didn’t leave me any choice, Mr. Ashcroft, he replied, not even bothering to be annoyed by the politician’s lack of greeting. Besides, showing it to him allowed me to fit in another piece of the puzzle that I hadn’t worked out before.

That your partner is undoubtedly involved in the cover-up, Lesley Ashcroft replied in a voice that signaled he’d known that particular piece of information already.

Malcolm’s eyes widened in shock, How did you…?

I have access to the CCTV cameras in your division, Lesley replied, not missing a beat. When you handed him the file, I noted the stiffening of his posture and his sudden coldness toward you.

Malcolm swallowed hard, remembering how Rupert had been angry, albeit shaken, by what Malcolm had shown him.

But that doesn’t mean that Inspector Rupert is involved, the man sitting next to Malcolm finally spoke, his voice somewhat nervous but also argumentative. He was dressed in a T-shirt and dress jeans, his suit jacket fitting snugly to his trim form, his black-framed glasses fitting to his face neatly.

Lesley turned toward the other man. Enlighten me then, Dr. Radcliffe.

Malcolm was pleased to see Julian straighten, the gleam in his blue-gray eyes sparking at the inquiry. Julian was a psychologist at a small institution in London where he was one of the fledgling doctors there. He met Julian five years before.

Rupert could’ve just been alarmed that Malcolm had uncovered evidence that might actually have some merit, Julian’s voice was easy, his speech clear and showing no sign of hesitation or insecurity. Malcolm also thought he heard a note of pride in his friend’s tone at being able to contribute to the conversation. After all, he could be a victim in this, and his sudden hostility toward Malcolm could just be fear.

Fear that he’d been caught, Malcolm put in. He’d seen the look on Rupert’s face when he’d seen the file. There was no mistaking that look.

Lesley nodded along, all the while his eyes were dark with thought. I appreciate your opinion, Julian, he said with a nod to the doctor, but I’m afraid my deduction stands.

Malcolm saw Julian sit back against the seat; although he remained silent, Malcolm could see his friend’s irritation at being snubbed as he ran one hand through his messy chin-length brown hair. He had to admire Julian’s ability to stay civil even though it obviously annoyed him.

The press conference begins at six p.m. you said, Lesley turned his attention back to Malcolm. What is your plan?

Malcolm straightened up, clearing his throat. I’m going to call them out on it. He’d come to that conclusion the second he’d left the incident room.

Chief Inspector Richardson, you mean? Julian asked.

Malcolm shook