Crack Down Read Online Free PDF

resist discovering any new wrinkle in the law. Dangle that as a carrot and they’ll bite your arm off faster than a starving donkey. “Go on,” Ruth said cautiously. I swear her eyes sparkled.

    â€œTrainee solicitors who are just starting criminal work usually learn the ropes by bird-dogging a senior brief like yourself,” I said. “And that includes sitting in on interviews in police stations.”
    Ruth smiled sweetly. “Not in the middle of the night. And you’re not a trainee solicitor, Kate.”
    â€œTrue, Ruth, but I did do two years of a law degree. And as you yourself pointed out not five minutes since, I do know my way around PACE. I’m not going to blow it out of ignorance of the procedures.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to be this persuasive. Before I knew where I was, I’d be down on my knees begging. This was going to be the most expensive night out Richard Barclay had ever had.
    Ruth shook her head decisively. “Kate, if we’re going to quote each other, let me remind you of your opening speech. As an officer of the court, there are a whole lot of things I can’t even think about doing. I’m afraid this is one of them.” As she spoke, the window rose again.
    I stepped back to allow Ruth to open the door and get out of her living room on wheels. She let the door close with a soft, expensive click. She took a deep breath, considering. While I waited for her to say something, I couldn’t help admiring her style. Ruth looked nothing like a woman whose sleep had been wrecked by the call that had dragged her out of bed. There was nothing slapdash about her understated make-up and her long blonde hair was pulled back in a neat scalp plait, the distinguished silver streaks at the temples glinting in the street lights. She was in her middle thirties, but the only giveaway was a faint cluster of laughter lines at the corners of her eyes. She wore a black frock coat over a cream silk shirt with a rolled neck, black leggings and black ankle boots with a high heel. The extra height disguised the fact that she had to be at least a size eighteen. We’d been friends ever since she’d been the guest speaker at my university Women In Law group, and I’d never seen her look anything other than immaculate. If I didn’t like her so much, I’d hate her.
    Now, she put a surprisingly slim hand on my arm. “Kate, you know I sympathize. If that was Peter in there, I’d be moving heaven and earth to get him out. I have no doubt whatsoever that
Richard’s first demand will be that I get you on the case. And I’ll back that one hundred percent. But give me space to do what I’m best at. As soon as I’m through here, I’ll come straight round and brief you, I promise.”
    I shook my head. “I hear what you’re saying, but that’s not enough, I’m sorry. If I’m going to do what I’m best at, there are questions I need to ask that won’t necessarily have anything to do with what you need to know. Ruth, it’s in your client’s best interests.”
    Ruth put an arm round my shoulder and hugged me. “Nice try, Kate. You really should have stuck to the law, you know. You’d have made a great advocate. But the answer’s still no. I’ll see you later.”
    She let me go and walked across the police car park towards the entrance, the heels of her boots clicking on the tarmac. “You’d better believe it,” I said softly.
    Â 
    Time to exploit the irregular verb theory of life. In this case, the appropriate one seemed to be: I am creative, you exaggerate, he/she is a pathological liar. I gave Ruth ten minutes to get through the formalities. Then I walked across to the door and pressed the intercom buzzer. “Hello?” the intercom crackled.
    Giving my best impression of a panic-stricken, very junior gofer, I said, “I’m with