of seeing you hang us all or just yourself. So which course do you expect me to take?"
"I expect you to obey the orders you're given. As they're given and when they're given."
"Not when they're senseless." Lynley tried to calm himself. He managed to say in a quieter tone, "Sir, I can't let you interfere any longer. I'm going to have to demand that you either stop meddling in the investigation or I'll have to..." And there Lynley stopped, halted in midstride by the satisfied expression that flitted briefly across Hillier's face.
He suddenly realised that his own myopia had propelled him into the AC's trap. And that realisation prompted his understanding of why Superintendent Webberly had always made it known to his brother-in-law which of his officers ought to succeed him, even if such succession were only to be a temporary measure. Lynley could walk off the job at the drop of a hat without suffering a moment's hardship. The others couldn't. He had an income independent of the Met. For the other DIs, the Met put food on their families' table and a roof over their heads. Circumstances would force them time and again to submit to Hillier's directives without argument because none of them could afford to be sacked. Webberly had seen Lynley as the only one of them with the slightest chance of keeping at least some kind of rein on his brother-inlaw.
God knew he owed the superintendent that favour, Lynley thought. Webberly had often enough been willing to do the same for him.
"Or?" Hillier's voice was deadly.
Lynley sought a new direction. "Sir, we've got another killing to contend with. We can't be asked to contend with journalists as well."
"Yes," Hillier said. "Another killing. You've acted in direct defiance of an order, Superintendent, and you'd better have a good explanation for that."
They were finally down to it, Lynley thought: his refusal to let Hamish Robson view the scene of the crime. He didn't obfuscate by getting on to something else. He said, "I left word at the barrier. No one without ID onto the crime scene. Robson had no ID and the constables at the barrier hadn't a clue who he was. He might have been anyone, and specifically, he might have been a reporter."
"And when you saw him? When you spoke to him? When he made the request to see the photos, the video, what remained of the scene or anything else...?"
"I refused," Lynley said, "but you know that already or we wouldn't be talking about it now."
"That's right. And now you're going to listen to what Robson has to say."
"Sir, if you'll excuse me, I've a team to see and work to be getting on with. This is more important than-"
"My authority trumps yours," Hillier said, "and you're face-to-face with a direct order now."
"I understand that," Lynley said, "but if he hasn't seen the photos, we can't waste time while he-"
"He's seen the video. He's read the preliminary reports." Hillier smiled thinly when he saw Lynley's surprise. "As I said. My authority trumps yours, Superintendent. So sit down. You're going to be here awhile."
HAMISH ROBSON had the grace to look apologetic. He also had the grace to look as uncomfortable as any intuitive man might have looked in the same situation. He came into the office with a yellow legal pad in his hand and a small stack of paperwork. The latter he handed over to Hillier. He cocked his head at Lynley and raised one shoulder in a quick, diffident movement that said "Not my idea."
Lynley nodded in turn. He bore the man no animosity. As far as he was concerned, both of them were doing their jobs under extremely difficult conditions.
Hillier obviously wanted dominance to be the theme of the meeting: He did not move from behind his desk to go to the conference table at which he'd held his colloquy with the press chief and his cohorts, and he motioned Robson to join Lynley in sitting before him. Together they ended up resembling two supplicants come before the throne of Pharaoh. Only the prostration was missing.
"What have you come up with, Hamish?" Hillier asked, eschewing any polite preliminaries.
Robson used his thumbs to hold his legal pad across his knees. His face appeared feverish, and Lynley felt a momentary surge of sympathy for the man. It was the rock and the hard place for him once again.
"With the earlier crimes," Robson said, and he sounded unsure about how exactly to negotiate the landscape