Savage Moon

Epilogue

Summerby's office was pleasantly cool as Jon sat down. In the seat next to him was McCloughlin, who had moved his chair to the corner of the desk. Just to make sure we all know you're not on my side, thought Jon. Summerby was asking for his calls to be put on hold. 'So Jon,' he said, replacing the phone. 'There's a rumour going round that you're thinking of contacting the Manchester Police Authority.'

Jon nodded and Summerby's eyes instantly connected with McCloughlin's. When his senior officer spoke again his voice was devoid of any warmth. 'What are you thinking of saying?'

'I think you know. It was in my report that went into the log book.'

'DI Spicer, the Independent Police Complaints Commission has conducted a full investigation. It has found that all procedures were correctly followed.'

'That's bollocks, and you know it. For a start, the entire Armed Response Unit was briefed at the scene on what to say before the Assistant Chief Constable arrived. That's not accord- ing to protocol following a firearms incident.'

Summerby sighed. 'As I said, the IPCC is satisfied there is no case to answer. The Director of Public Prosecutions has signed it off.'

'It's a stitch-up. My report clearly stated that I'd instructed the

Armed Response Unit to hold their fire.'

'Your words obviously weren't heard by the officer in command.'

'DS Saville clearly heard them.'

McCloughlin uncrossed his legs. 'Maybe he wasn't standing so close to the helicopter. I gather it was a bit noisy.'

Jon glanced at him, saw the mocking look in his eye. One day, pal, one day I'll fucking have you. He looked back at

Summerby. 'James Field stood up and raised his arms.'

'To strike you with those claws,' Summerby replied.

'How do you know it wasn't to surrender? They just opened fire on him.'

McCloughlin leaned forward and pointed a finger at Jon. 'To protect you, sonny. They were there saving your ungrateful life. I think you need to consider just whose side you're on here. If you contact the MPA over this, count your career as over.'

Jon looked to Summerby for his reaction. His senior officer crossed his arms. 'I think you need to consider your priorities extremely carefully.'

Fuck you all, Jon thought, standing up and walking from the room without another word. Half way down the stairs, his phone went. 'Carmel, what's happening with that story?'

'I'm sorry, Jon, they're not going to print it.'

'What do you mean? You're just leaving it with the young offender turns psycho story?'

'I've been to see my editor. I took the project Field sent me. He said the claims can't be substantiated. It's too inflammatory.'

'What about the colonial government's records? They must back it up.'

'I've looked into that. Everything, and I mean everything, was destroyed before they handed power over. No one even knows how many detention camps were built.'

'The relatives in Kenya then. There are survivors who witnessed everything, it's how James Field got all his information.'

'They could be after compensation. There are several groups still trying to sue the British government.'

'So you're burying the story.'

'It's not being buried, Jon, it's just too sensitive. I don't know. The decision came from the top, the big cheese himself.'

As footsteps started coming down the stairs behind him, a phrase Alice had started to use came to mind. 'It's censorship through silence. You call yourself a journalist?'

Carmel sighed. 'I did once. Jon, what do you think newspapers are? Who do you think owns them? Institutional shareholders, that's who. We have them to consider. Nothing could be achieved by running a story that attacks Britain so forcefully. Sales could go down, advertisers might desert us. The shareholders will call for heads.'

'And I thought it was about reporting the truth.'

'So did I when I started out in this job. Listen, you know when I mentioned who my source was on this story?'

The footsteps were almost behind him now. 'Yeah. You said I needed to look closer to home.'

'That's right. Just watch your back, Jon. At work.'

'Someone here was tipping you off?'

'That's all I can say, Jon, there's another call waiting. I've got to go.'

As she hung up he turned around. McCloughlin was about to step on to the landing, a mobile phone pressed to his ear. Suddenly it all clicked. Next thing he knew McCloughlin was lying on his back, blinking at the ceiling, blood running from his nose. Jon looked down at his fist. Oh fuck. McCloughlin's phone was on the third step. He picked it up and heard a voice saying, 'Hello? Is that you, DCI McCloughlin?' Carmel's voice. He dropped the phone on to McCloughlin's chest and carried on down the stairs.

Back on his drive, he locked the car and walked up to the front door, briefcase in his hand. He paused there, wondering if Ellie or his mum were inside visiting. Even though a few weeks had passed, they still hadn't fully forgiven his actions that night. Deserting his wife when she was so in need of his support. He didn't like to think about it himself. Fortunately Alice was able to accept how his mind worked. How he just could not let go of a case. She didn't like it, but she realised he could no more change his methods than he could the colour of his eyes. You're one lucky bastard, he thought, turning the key and pushing the door open. Punch's squashed snout appeared from the front room. His dog gave a snort of delight and bounded down the corridor. Jon went down to one knee and curled his free arm round the animal's neck, turning his face away as a wet tongue lapped at his ear.

'That's horrible.'

Jon stood up and looked at Alice. She was standing in the doorway to the front room, her eyes bright and clear, though whether from the anti-depressants or genuine emotion, he still couldn't be sure. Holly was cradled in her right arm, her little legs kicking with excitement. Jon walked towards them and took his daughter. Dragging his eyes from Holly, he kissed his wife. 'You're looking good.'

Alice nodded. 'I feel it. It seems so much easier now Holly is sleeping through.'

Jon's eyes went back to his daughter, who gazed up at him with a crooked smile. 'Yeah, sleep. It's the key to everything.' He didn't mention the dream that now haunted him. Curved teeth and sharp claws slashing at his face. How it always tore him from sleep at three in the morning. 'I just decked McCloughlin.' Alice stared at him, lips slightly apart. 'Oh Jon! Please tell me that you're joking.'

He looked at the back of his hand, examining the angry red knuckles. 'Wish I was.'

Alice's voice dropped to a whisper. 'Well, that's it then. You'll be fired.'

Jon glanced up, a grin on his face. 'No I won't. It was in the stairwell at Longsight. There were no witnesses. McCloughlin was the one leaking stuff to the Manchester Evening Chronicle — and I know exactly which reporter he was tipping off.'

Alice's expression lightened slightly. 'So he won't take action against you?'

'Not if he wants me to keep quiet about what he was up to.'

'Did he actually tell you he won't?'

'No need. A weasel like McCloughlin? He'll have worked out the angles before I'd reached the bottom of the stairs. He won't say a word. Trust me.'

A smile of relief appeared on her face. 'Still, you shouldn't go round punching your senior officers.'

Jon paused, pretending to consider her comment. 'Yeah, you're right. I won't make a habit of it. So, what have you been up to?'

'There's some interesting stuff that came out today. The Lancet has published a survey on how many Iraqis have died since the invasion began. One hundred thousand, minimum.'

Jon stepped into the front room and looked at the computer with its piles of paper surrounding it. 'You really enjoy this, don't you? Writing to MPs, sending letters to newspapers.'

Alice sat down on the swivel chair. 'It needs to be done. We can't let the people at the top get away with it. Funny, but I hated politics before. This disastrous war has opened my eyes to so much.'

Jon studied his wife as she picked up her latest print-outs and squared them off. He could see how she was in her element. Always feisty, she'd never been able to sit in silence if she thought somebody was a liar. Now she had something to get her teeth into and the therapeutic value was obvious. He looked down, always amazed at how Holly could fall asleep with such speed. Placing her gently on the mat, he watched as Punch wriggled closer to take up his customary position guarding her.

'Well, I've got something else if you're interested.'

He opened his briefcase and took out his copy of Jammer's project.

'What is it?' Alice asked, hands already out.

'Read it. Let's just say it's not something that's likely to be reported in any of our newspapers. But you might find a few interesting comparisons with what's going on today.'

Alice was already bowed over the photocopied sheets as Jon turned to his dog. 'Hey Punch, fancy coming for a run?'