Critical Threat Read Online Free PDF Page A

mission. He swiped his cardkey through the machine and he was granted access on to the corridor off which all the chief officers had their hidey-holes.
    It was the only wide corridor in the building, the only one in which it was possible to pass shoulder to shoulder with someone without having to stand aside and let them pass. The only carpeted one that did not creak. Even those thoughts drew a snarl of contempt on Henry’s face. As much as he despised it in himself, he could not stop himself from growing more bitter all the time.
    He did not even bother to knock on the door which led into the office housing the chief constable’s and the deputy chief constable’s bag carriers, as the staff officers were mockingly known, and admin support. He just opened it, breezed in, and without acknowledging anyone else in the room, focused on his target and strode across to Chief Inspector Andy Laker. New to both job and rank he looked a little shocked into Henry’s glaring eyes as though he was just a probationer faced with one of the many dinosaurs in the force.
    â€˜Henry,’ Laker said with a shaky swallow and a rise and fall of the Adam’s apple. He quickly pulled himself together. ‘I thought you were in—’
    â€˜Blackpool? Nah.’ Henry smiled falsely. He handed his hastily concocted report to Laker, suddenly aware that two lines of text – one and a half lines to be exact – seemed woefully inadequate.
    Laker glanced at it with an expression of resignation, then looked wickedly up at Henry. ‘I didn’t know your surname was Christ.’ There was a degree of malicious pleasure in his tone.
    â€˜What?’ Henry heard a muffled guffaw from the staff behind him. He snatched the report back. He had indeed written ‘Christ’ instead of ‘Christie’ in his angry eagerness to get it done. Typing was not one of his strong points at the best of times, being a two-fingered thumper. He stole a quick glance at the others in the office – two secretaries and an inspector who was the deputy chief’s staff officer. They had been watching Henry’s antics, but their eyes dropped with alacrity as he looked round at them with madman eyes. They were all suddenly glued to the work on their desks, not a sign of a snigger on any of their faces.
    Henry’s attention returned to his report. ‘Typo,’ he said, sniffing, found a pen on Laker’s desk and added the missing letters of his name as neatly as possible.
    â€˜Thought you might be getting ideas above your station,’ Laker commented as he took the amended report back between his finger and thumb and dropped it into his in-tray. ‘See what I can do.’
    â€˜Sooner rather than later.’
    â€˜It’ll be processed,’ Laker said with a shrug and Henry knew he had to back off. Pursuing the pen-pushing idiot too far would result in the request finding its way to the bottom of the pile – again and again.
    â€˜Thanks.’ Henry swallowed and turned to leave just as the door to the chief constable’s office opened and the man himself appeared with one of the divisional commanders, the chief superintendent in charge of Blackburn division, their meeting having ended. They were having a bit of a chuckle at something, then shook hands. The divisional commander bade the office a grand goodbye, then left.
    â€˜Right, good,’ said the chief. He turned, saw Henry – but looked right through him – and without saying a further word retreated into his cosy office, closing the door.
    Henry’s nostrils flared. It was almost as though the guy didn’t know him. Twisting to Laker, he said, ‘Can I see him now?’
    Laker shook his head, his supercilious eyes half shut, a slight grin on his lips. ‘Appointments.’
    Suddenly the chief’s door reopened and the tubby incumbent poked his head out, bellowing across at Laker, who winced,