In the Absence of Iles (17 page)

‘When you observed her breath alternately emerging and getting sucked in what struck you about it?’ Esther replied.

‘About her breathing?’

‘This told you something?’

‘Very much in line.’

‘In line with what?’

‘When combined with other evidence.’

‘Her eyes, speech patterns, hand movements?’

‘The totality. One’s overall impression of her. The, as it were, Amy Dillness of her. Consistent.’

‘Consistent breathing must be a real plus,’ Esther said.

‘This is a remarkable officer, in my view.’

‘And did
she
do any listening?’

‘In what sense?’

‘You said you went in for a lot of listening, as in a quite passive state, but not really –
seemingly
passive, but in fact the opposite. All the time you were geared up. What about
her,
did she listen, or was she chewing the various topics non-stop? Did
you
do any of the talking, say about cookery or sport, while
she
listened? Reciprocal, as you mentioned. For instance, did you tell her about some hop-skip-and-jump at your school sports?’

‘My main aim was –’

‘It’s obviously vital she
should
be a listener, isn’t it? Undercover, she’s got to be able to manage that appearance of passivity we’ve spoken of. She has to find and record what Ambrose or Palliative, or Cornelius himself, are thinking and bring it back to you. That’s the acme of listening jobs. She needs to be present when such talk is taking place, but part of the background only, forgotten about, blending in. It’s what Keats calls “negative capability”. If you ask me, there’ll be a lot of blokes in Cormax Turton banging away and longing to get her door open, like the horseman in the poem, but she has to ignore all that and stick with the listening.’

‘I must have a look at this poem, and Keats.’

‘“The Listeners” is by Walter de la Mare. Clearly, he knew undercover first hand. They should get him into the Out-loc manual.’

‘Poise,’ Channing replied.

‘Yes?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘She has poise, you think?’

He chuckled with bemused satisfaction: ‘You know, ma’am, I’ve been trawling for the single word to describe her, and suddenly it was here, with me, and is so suitable I can hardly believe it took that long to surface. It must have been all the while in my subconscious.’

‘Break it down.’

‘In what sense?’

‘The subconscious idea of poise sneaked into your subconscious subconsciously because of her conversation and behaviour. But when you think back consciously instead of subconsciously you’ll probably say to yourself, “Yes, this, or this, or this, showed something that can only be called poise.” How exactly did it show itself?’

‘Not ostentatious. Not arrogance or presumptuousness. Those could go against her in undercover,’ Channing said. ‘They’d push her into prominence. They’d be the reverse of that passivity we spoke of as necessary.’

‘Poise is to be at the point of balance, as I understand it. Between what and what, though?’

‘In her case, poise will certainly turn out a plus.’

‘How do you see it functioning if she’s Out-located? What kind of situations?’

‘Yes, when she gets to Hilston Manor I’m certain the psychometrics will prove she’s exceptionally high on poise,’ he replied. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me to hear they’ve never recorded anything comparable in the poise category. The data reading will come up on her profile screen there and people will whistle and call others over to see.’

‘What about you?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘How do you respond to it?’

‘What?’

‘The poise.’

‘In what sense?’

‘The usual sense. Men could find it exciting in a woman, I imagine.’

‘Selling at street corners, or clubs or raves – that sounds furtive, menial, but some poise is needed even there,’ Channing said. ‘Customers have to be made to feel all right – safe and secure. Poise in the dealer will settle them, and bring them back next time. The recommendation goes around. They don’t use the word “poise” themselves – that’s a special sort of term. But they say about a dealer, “He/she’s all right,” “She/he knows the scene,
really
knows the scene,” “He/she’s always where he/she says he/she’ll be and at the time she/he says.” But what they’re really getting at is poise.’

‘It’s part of the charge if a dealer’s caught, isn’t it – trading in illegal substances while poised?’

Esther drove herself over to East Stead. She felt she owed that to Channing. Afterwards, she would tell him she’d been there. Definitely, she would. She wanted him to see she gave very serious attention to his approval of Amy Dill, before, of course, overruling him and turning her down. In fact, Esther had absolutely rejected Dill before leaving for East Stead and knew that nothing she saw there could affect her view. But so that Channing would not feel slighted or trampled, Esther meant to make a considerate show of open-mindedness. Channing obviously wanted Dill for the undercover duty. Her poise had won him and whatever poise meant for (a) the coming Cormax Turton infiltration; and also for (b) Channing personally.

Esther couldn’t tell which was the more influential with him, (a) or (b), but thought (b), though with (a) not a total non-starter. After all, if Dill failed in the job he would have no chance of scoring with her, because she would most likely be dead. So he could not altogether forget about (a) – because (b) depended on it.

For a few seconds Esther felt ashamed. God, what a cynical bit of reasoning that was. Where did such viciousness come from? Jealousy? Well, yes, maybe a kind of jealousy. ‘A kind of’? Which kind? Jealousy was jealousy, wasn’t it, destructive and pathetic? Did it anger her that Channing so gibberingly and obviously and verbosely fancied Dill? Yes, a bit. So, how big a bit? Esther thought she could fairly honestly say Channing rang few sexual bells for her, although to a point she liked him. He was affable, sceptical and sensible in a style she admired, and bright enough to keep up with her waggish talk and to tease her in mild, playful fashion: for instance, the way he had picked up her question, ‘In what sense?’ and repeatedly returned it; and his manner of killing certain questions by answering different ones; another trick he might have lifted from Esther, or from lags under interrogation.

He was thirty-eight, slim-to-thin, small-featured, un-tattooed on his arms, mousy hair very fashionably cut and arranged, nimble, cleft-chinned, alert. She found it pleasant to look at him after Gerald as he had become lately, but this amounted to very faint faint praise. No, Channing didn’t get to her hormones, at least so far, but, as to jealousy, she envied and nostalgized for Dill’s youthfulness, beauty, poise, if that meant anything. These combined could reach out and plainly, devastatingly wow a middle-aged, married-with-children, generally wise senior policeman. The pretence that he hadn’t noticed Dill’s attractiveness until Esther referred to it tickled her. And riled her. Esther might not want him herself at this juncture but it infuriated her to see the pull someone like Amy Dill worked on him. So, OK, a kind of jealousy, but a kind that Esther could tell herself, and keep telling herself, was sane, businesslike, responsible and humane.

Her reasoning – sharply slanted, as she knew – went like this: Channing seemed enraptured by Dill and this must affect his verdict on her suitability or not for Out-location; perhaps dangerously affect: his judgement had gone black-berrying. If the choice were left to Channing it would probably be made mainly for the wrong reason: pussy. One of the questions he’d dodged had been about her sex life. Perhaps he’d discovered she had one, a serious one, but Channing didn’t want to give it recognition, because he had plans. This could mean Dill suited Channing but not Out-loc. And that would increase the already plentiful hazards of undercover: she might be unfit for the job and very liable to fail. Therefore, Esther decided she had a duty to veto Channing and possibly save Dill, but to show him managerial consideration while doing it. She wanted him to see that she gave every respectful attention to his selection before booting it out. Esther would be able to concoct major, credible reasons to give Channing for the rejection: probable harassment in Cormax Turton because of her looks; and possible Stockholm Syndrome. And these did count for something in her mind. Yes, for something. Memories of those sexual complications during her own undercover stint counted, too.

The scrutiny of Dill at East Stead could be kept to a glimpse, and
should
be kept to a glimpse. Esther would not give it much time. Certainly there would be no meeting and no talk. These might have affected Esther’s verdict. She wanted quick, formal confirmation that Dill emphatically ruled herself out of undercover by being too lovely.
‘You’re gorgeous, so no go, kid.’ ‘She’s a doll, Channing, so hard luck.’
It pissed Esther off in retrospect that nobody had considered
her
too sexy to be Out-located.

She got Dill’s shift pattern for the month on screen and then her private address. Today Dill should be working from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m. Esther went to East Stead in an unrecognizable car from the pool and waited around lunchtime near the flat. It was like secret surveillance. Secret it had to be: she knew that a call at East Stead nick by yet another big-timer from headquarters would up the suspicions there that something special must be under way. Police lived by suspicion, especially of one another.

Dill had a flat at the top of a stately, stone-built Edwardian house in a suburban road near a big park. At just after 1 p.m., she came out alone and walked to her Clio on hard standing that must once have been the noble property’s noble front lawn. It was a dozen paces from the door to the car. That would do for what Esther wanted from this visit. Anything would do for what Esther wanted. She could now safely and destructively certify Amy Dill
was
beautiful in the way the screen pictures had shown her to be beautiful: skin perfect, nose straight, mouth wide and friendly, hair dark and cut short, eyes of indeterminate colour at this distance through the car window, but the dossier said brown, and they were unquestionably set in the right spots. Channing must have appreciated face-to-face with such a face. Esther thought that at one moment she caught a gleam from a diamond ring on Dill’s left hand. There
was
a fiancé, then? Did he share the flat with her?

Dill wore a neat, management-style dark suit and white blouse, the collar up. The dossier had her as 175 cm – five foot nine – and she looked at ease with this height: ungawky, lissom, poised even, plainly unencumbered by anyone like Gerald, so far. Life could take some of the gleam out of engagement rings, though. Driving back, Esther felt very vindicated. Oh, yes, she must ditch Amy Dill. This journey had been a good and essential journey, even, in its way, kindly: it concerned Dill’s welfare and safety, didn’t it? Didn’t it?

She called Channing in late that afternoon and listed the objections to Dill she thought him entitled to hear, and manufactured some minor material that should stop any difficult, prolonged debate. She thought she’d, so to speak, give body to the ideas she had about Amy’s engagement. Things had to be got under way quickly, and Esther saw how. ‘And then, in addition to all that, there is the present love life element. I went to East Stead, you know.’

‘Oh?’

‘I felt I should.’

‘When did that happen, ma’am? I was speaking on the phone to Bob Lette there just after lunch. He didn’t mention a visit.’

‘By chance I saw her with her fiancé,’ Esther replied. ‘Did you notice diamonds when you observed her hand movements? Oh, yes, they’re there. Three nicely shaped rocks. Dill and he looked so content with each other, so happy. Well, the way engaged couples
ought
to look. The fact is, Richard, having seen them like that, I’m not sure she could take the separation, separation that might run to months. It might unsettle her, rock – rock! – her concentration. Another point, Richard – perhaps a sentimental one: I came to think it would be wrong to risk someone so obviously content and fulfilled in her life. I’d even see it as an abuse of our authority.’

‘She’d have a choice. She’d still have to opt for Out-loc if we did decide on her.’

‘She’s the kind who would – brave, dutiful, unselfish. She’d put the job first. One can see that much in her. I don’t think she should be asked. It would be improper pressure.’

‘Did you talk to her – to them?’

‘I fear she’d take a request as an order. Sometimes leadership must give way to human feelings,’ she replied, ‘even among police officers!’ God, Esther knew she should avoid such feeble jokes. They showed nervousness, possibly even hinted at the lying.

‘Where were you when you ran into them, ma’am? He’s not police, is he? I don’t imagine it would be in the East Stead nick, especially as Bob Lette didn’t say anything about –’

‘It was decisive, that quite brief sight of them together,’ Esther replied. ‘No longer than five minutes. You know how it can be, though, Richard. Sometimes a seemingly small incident or word can suddenly resolve sticky, long-lasting doubts.’

‘In what sense?’

‘Oh, yes.’

(ii) Dean Martlew

‘This, of course, is Superintendent Channing’s operation – very much so – with myself as not much more than a spectator,’ Esther said, ‘a thrilled and fascinated spectator, but that’s all. Or perhaps I should more correctly say it is
your
and Superintendent Channing’s operation, Dean. You are the one who will be Out-located and Superintendent Channing will control and liaise. I called it
his
just now to make clear that my own role – if I have a role in the true sense at all – my own role keeps me at a distance – is to do only with policy and general overseeing. That’s one of rank’s drawbacks. You’ll experience it one day, I’m sure. The fact that we are in my suite means nothing. I’m excluded – justifiably excluded – from the pattern of immediate, urgent decisions. This falls to Superintendent Channing, and I can assure you, Dean, that his are capable hands. But what I wanted to stress, and why I set up this little meeting – yes, I wanted to stress that I endorse absolutely his final choice of you for the Cormax Turton sortie. I call it his “final” choice. Clarification is needed. From the first days of preparation for this project I can say outright now that we both knew, absolutely
knew,
you would be our ultimate choice. Richard?’