Disaster." This gave her time to prepare. Whatever she reported to Hillier had to be good, and she damn well knew it. For once the papers connected the victim with his famous brother, which would hardly take long considering Zaynab Bourne's threats of the previous day, the story would have even stronger legs. Undoubtedly then it would run for days. Things could have been worse, but Isabelle couldn't quite see how.
She had an Irish coffee prior to leaving for work. She told herself that the caffeine would counteract the effects of the whisky, and besides, after being up for most of the night, she had earned it. She drank it down quickly. She also tucked four airline bottles of vodka into her bag.
She assured herself that she likely wouldn't need them, and anyway they were not enough to do anything but help her think clearly if she felt muddled during the day.
She stopped in at the incident room at work. She told Philip Hale to relieve the officer at St. Thomas' Hospital and to remain there. His startled expression replied that as a DI, he should not be asked to do something that a uniformed constable could easily do, as it was a waste of manpower. She waited for him actually to make a comment, but he sucked in a breath and said nothing but, "Guv," in polite response. No matter because John Stewart talked for him, saying laconically, "Due respect, guv ...," which, Isabelle knew, he felt nothing of anyway. She snapped, "What is it?" and he pointed out that using a detective inspector as some sort of single-headed Cerberus at the hospital when he could otherwise be handling what he'd earlier been told to handle - all of the background checks which were, by the way, mounting up - was hardly a wise use of Philip's expertise. She told him she didn't need his advice. "Get on to forensics and stay glued to them. Why's the analysis of those hairs found on the body taking so long? And where the hell is DI Lynley?"
He'd been called up to Hillier's office, she was informed. Stewart did the informing, and he looked as if nothing could have pleased him more than to be the person sharing that bit of news with her.
She might otherwise have avoided her meeting with Hillier, but because Lynley had been there - doubtless making his own report on the goings-on of the previous day - she had no choice but to take herself to the assistant commissioner's office. She refused to fortify herself before heading there. Lynley's impertinent question about her drinking still plagued her.
She met him in the corridor near Hillier's office. He said, "You look like you've had no sleep."
She told him she'd returned to the hospital and remained there long into the night. "How are things?" she asked in conclusion, with a nod towards the AC's office.
"As expected. It could have gone better with Matsumoto yesterday. He wants to know why it didn't."
"Does he see that as your position, Thomas?"
"What?"
"Making those sorts of determinations. Making reports to him about my performance.
Official snout. Whatever."
Lynley gazed at her in a fashion she found disconcerting. It wasn't sexual. She could have dealt with that. It was, instead, rather more than intolerably kind. He said quietly, "I'm on your side, Isabelle."
"Are you?"
"I am. He's thrown you headfirst into the investigation because he's being pressured from above to fill Malcolm Webberly's position and he wants to know how you do the job. But what's going on with him is only partially about you. The rest is politics. Politics involve the commissioner, the Home Office, and the press. As you're feeling the heat, so is he."
"I wasn't wrong, the situation yesterday wasn't mismanaged."
"I didn't tell him it was. The man panicked. No one knows why."
"That's what you told him?"
"That's what I told him."
"If Philip Hale hadn't - "
"Don't throw Philip into the midst of feeding sharks. That sort of thing will return to haunt you. The best position to take is no one's to blame. That's the position that will serve you in the long run."
She thought about this. She said, "Is he alone?"
"When I went in, he was. But he's phoned for Stephenson Deacon to come to his office.
There's got to be a briefing and the Directorate of Public Affairs wants it as soon as possible.
That will mean today."
Isabelle acknowledged a fleeting wish that she'd tossed back at least one of the bottles of vodka. There was