It was midnight in an abandoned supermarket car park. Two cars arrived five minutes apart. The second car rolled up to the first. Andy was the first to open his window; Rawson then followed.
"Hello, Mr Rawson. What's up ma duck?" asked Andy.
Rawson looked worried. Andy frowned. Rawson was generally happy-go-lucky, so there had to be a problem.
"We may have a problem upstairs," said Rawson
"Better than a problem downstairs," said Andy almost laughing. Rawson didn't even smile.
Oh, it's that bad
, thought Andy. "What's worrying you?" he asked.
"The Deputy Commissioner, John Bailey, is going to announce his retirement within the next 6 months," said Rawson.
"So?"
"The Deputy Commissioner is where the power is, not the Commissioner. The Deputy controls day-to-day operations, professional standards, and Investigations. The Commissioner is just a glorified PR man. My contact at the Home Office tells me that the successor will be one of the Assistant Commissioners," replied Rawson.
"And?"
"Normally I wouldn't be worried, but the current favourite at the Home Office is Lisa McMaster," explained Rawson.
Andy had vaguely heard of McMaster. She had just been appointed Assistant Commissioner from a provincial police force, but had made quite an impression there, having been appointed a Deputy Chief Constable at only 35. She'd apparently whipped that force into shape, boosting its solve rate to the one of the best in the country. At only 40, McMaster is now one of the most senior police officers in the country.
"Why her, and not one of the other 3 Assistant Commissioners?" queried Andy.
"Well, two are older than Bailey, and are already making the rounds for private sector work, so it looks like they are retiring. Burton might get it, but the Home Office think that McMaster is the new face to push out the old guard."
"So, why does this concern me?" asked Andy.
"She's a crusader against anything remotely dodgy - and it's not just that she can't be bribed. She goes out of her way to stop corruption, and ensure the prosecution of bent coppers."
Like you
, thought Andy, although he kept quiet.
"If she gets the job, you can bet your bottom dollar she will be after us," continued Rawson.
"You worry too much, Rawson, take a chill pill," said Andy. With that, Andy raised his window and drove away. Rawson thought for a moment, then he drove out of the car park too.
2 minutes after Rawson departed, another car's engine turned on. That car, too, left the park.
...
[Two days later.]
Rawson found himself in a meeting that was being chaired by Lisa McMaster. After two hours, the meeting finished and thanking them for their time, she dismissing them.
As the others shuffled out of the room, Rawson heard the AC say, "David." Rawson turned round to see the AC smiling at him. "Do you have a moment?"'
"Yes, Ma'am, of course."
"Shut the door please, and take a seat."
Lisa picked up the coffee pot and poured another cup, adding milk and sugar. She gestured to Rawson to see if wanted one; Rawson shook his head without a word.
"So, David," said Lisa, "well done on that drugs bust. A whole Colombian network rounded up. You've got good intel -- where ever it comes from." Rawson looked at McMaster and noticed that her blue eyes contained no warmth. He almost wondered if she was a robot - not married, no sign of any emotional dependency of anyone else. Not that Rawson considered Lisa McMaster ugly. Blonde, with nice cheekbones, she was in fact very attractive, but had deliberately made herself severe-looking to avoid any 'Officer Barbie' comparisons. Rawson thought he could detect a decent sized rack under that uniform...
"Thank you, ma'am," responded Rawson, wondering where this was going.
"There is just one thing." Lisa passed over a folder to Rawson. He opened the folder to find photographs of the meeting between him and Andy that had happened the other night.
Rawson tried to hide his emotions. "Yes, Ma'am that's me meeting a contact."
"One Andy McMinn," said Lisa, looking at her notes. "Suspected drug dealer, pimp, and fence."
"Yes Ma'am'," shrugged Rawson. "He's scum alright, but very low-level. More a rogue than a villain. He's been one of my main sources regarding the drugs busts."
"Is he the sort of person we should be having dealings with?" asked Lisa with an arched eyebrow.
"Well Ma'am, in a perfect world, not really, but he's helped us roll up a number of drug and other criminal gangs."
"I think you need to cut him loose, and stop using him for intel. I've got information that he is much more of a significant figure than you claim." Lisa's blue eyes bored into Rawson.
Shit
, thought Rawson.
She knows
.
In reality, Lisa didn't know anything; she just thought that Rawson's clean-up rate was a little too good to be true. Even without any visible emotion from Rawson, Lisa thought she could detect concern emanating from him. Was he bent, or did he think that without McMinn's tip-offs his reputation might suffer?
"Ma'am, he's a vital informant, and there have at least 2 raids on him. Both times, we got absolutely nothing," Rawson replied, trying not to sound like he was pleading.
"Thank you, David, I've read the background information on McMinn."
"Ma'am, you don't understand. London is different to Devon. You need to fight with different tools here," Rawson almost shouted. He knew immediately that his change in tone had been a mistake.
"Thank you, David. That will be all," said Lisa in clipped tones. Rawson knew he'd gone too far. Lisa knew that many in the Met derided her as a country yokel, too naive to be a cop in a major city. Lisa took that personally.
"Yes Ma'am, thank you." Rawson passed the folder back to Lisa, rose, and left the room without another word.
Lisa leaned back in her chair. All her intuition told her that Rawson's results must be more than luck. She played the questions and possibilities out in her head yet again:
is McMinn a real criminal mastermind? Was Rawson bent, or just someone who thought the ends justified the means - allowing one set of criminals to operate while shutting down the competition?
The discreet check on Rawson's finances had shown nothing unusual, so if he was taking backhanders, it must have been invested in something untraceable. That, or he was clean, and was in fact the super cop that so many others on the force thought he was.
Lisa tapped her pen on her desk. She'd knew she'd need more to take to the Deputy Commissioner to request an investigation. Rawson was the Commissioner's blue-eyed boy, not to mention he was popular with both the press and the police rank-and-file. She knew she'd have to move carefully.
Lisa got out of her chair, and placed the carefully-researched intelligence on Andy McMinn into her personal safe. Locking it, she sat down to deal with the next item of business.
...
Stomping back to his office, both angry and worried, Rawson wondered what he was going to do. He didn't know if McMaster knew, or merely suspected, what he was doing with Andy -- or if she just had a hunch, or if she was just being a jealous hardass. Admittedly, he told himself, that there was no paper trail, or money that could be found easily, but even if nothing was proven, the loss of Andy's intel could be devastating to his career.
He paced up and down his office. Like McMaster had just done in her own office, he went through the questions and possibilities: How long did he have? If McMaster was suspicious, further investigations into him were almost certain. What if they managed to prove a link between him and McMinn? Dismissal was assured; if he was convicted of anything, jail time was almost certain. If he turned grass, there was no way he would be able to escape Andy's clutches. If he did a deal and received a light prison sentence, he would dead within a week. Too many prisoners or prison staff would want to either do Andy a favour, or try to get in his good books by knifing a Rawson in the showers. Andy was bound to have other police officers on his payroll too. If he got a new identity or went into police protection, they'd tell Andy where he was, and then a staged suicide was guaranteed. No... there was no escape from Andy.
Rawson decide that there was only one course of action available. Andy had once given him a package, and told him to only use its contents in an emergency. Opening his personal safe, he opened the package and took out a burner phone. He selected the only number in its memory, and entered two latin words:
periculosum mulier
.
Halfway across London, a heavy-set man's mobile phone flashed up an incoming message.
He passed the phone to his boss. Andy looked at the message. It was Latin for 'dangerous woman.'
Andy's eyes narrowed.
Guess I was wrong
, he thought.
This McMaster bitch may be more trouble than I thought...