Blackout - By Tom Barber Page 0,13

was still at his desk inside the ARU headquarters thinking about the Adams suicide. He was going over and over it in his mind in a loop, like the Breaking News banner on the news channel, trying to process what had happened.

Thinking hard, he suddenly reached forward across his desk and scooped up a black phone receiver from its cradle, pushing 1 on the keypad. The call connected to Nikki next door, the head of his analyst group, a dark-haired woman in her late twenties who did a great job running the entire tech team. He looked up and saw her grab her phone, not looking away from her computer, sitting with her back to him as she took the call.

‘Nikki,’ she said, seeing it was on the internal line.

‘Nikki, it's me. Who’s handling the Charlie Adams investigation?’ Cobb asked.

‘Hang on, sir, I’ll check,’ she said.

Through the glass of his office, he saw her place the receiver to one side and start tapping keys on her computer. He sipped his second espresso of the morning, the caffeine not helping his agitation. There was a pause.

‘A Detective-Inspector Graham in CID,’ she said.

‘Can you find out if they've spoken to Charlie’s wife yet?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

Cobb put the phone back on the cradle and looked back up at the television screen. As he took another hit of espresso, he saw through the glass the sergeant of his task force, Porter, approaching his office door. He was dressed in some dark blue jeans and a grey sweater, the jumper emphasising his wide shoulders and strong frame.

Porter was a dark-featured guy in his mid-thirties, an imposing figure of a man, but he was a gentle giant. He was one of those people who never swore, no matter how bad the situation or how frustrated he was feeling. He reminded Cobb of one of those big dogs at the park who remained aloof and kept their patience whenever smaller dogs nipped and bothered at them, never losing his temper or biting back, endlessly patient no matter what the provocation. Cobb had seen people underestimate Porter, mistaking his quiet patience for weakness, but every one of them had quickly discovered their mistake. He was strong and loyal, and like Charlie Adams, was someone Cobb had taken to immediately as a human being.

His predecessor, a tough-as-nails army veteran called Mac, had retired towards the end of last year and Porter had been a shoe-in as his replacement. Everyone had approved of his selection, and so far Port had proved to be an outstanding choice as a leader. The men on the task force all liked him, but more importantly they all trusted him, the most crucial thing when out there in the field. Since he'd taken over, Porter had led the team against a potential terrorist plot and also the drug-dealing ring that the Unit had smashed just over a week ago, and the success of both operations had left no doubt in Cobb's mind that he had chosen the right man to be Mac's replacement.

Although he saw Cobb watching him approach, Porter still stopped and knocked on the glass, respecting rank. Cobb nodded and Porter entered the office, closing the door behind him.

‘Morning, Port.’

‘Morning, sir.’

Stepping further into the office, Porter glanced up at the television screen, at the headline running on the lower portion of the television, black text on a yellow stream under the newsreader.

Breaking News: Political candidate Charlie Adams commits suicide on South Bank early this morning.

Porter looked over at Cobb and shook his head.

‘Sad news.'

'Yes. It is.'

'Deaks mentioned he was a friend of yours?’

Cobb nodded. ‘We worked together a few years ago.’

Both men watched the screen in silence as a photo of Adams in suit and tie came onto the screen. He was smiling and waving to a crowd on a podium, a lectern in front of him, either before or just after he had given some kind of speech. Even out of combat fatigues and dressed in the suit, the man still cut an impressive figure, the broad musculature of his shoulders and arms clear under the dark suit jacket, his eyes narrowed warmly as he smiled at the crowd.

'Did you know of him?' Cobb asked.

Porter nodded. 'Yes, sir. He gave a speech in my local area last month. Impressive guy. He had my vote, that was for sure.'

Pause.

'The report said he left a widow and a small boy. A real shame.’

‘Yes. It is.’

Just then, the phone on Cobb’s desk rang. He reached