The Conspiracy Theorist Read Online Free PDF

they didn’t say your
name.’
    ‘Becket.’
    ‘That it?   Becket?   Just that?’
    ‘Tom Becket.   One T as in the martyr.’
    ‘What martyr?’
    ‘Thomas A Becket.   You know, Archbishop of Canterbury?   Murdered by Henry the Second?’
    ‘Oh that martyr!’ one of the
weightlifters said sarcastically.
    I offered my hand.   Reuben Symonds shook it lightly.   The other guys did not offer
theirs.   They contented themselves with
staring at the side of my head.
    ‘What can I do for you, Tom Becket?’ Symonds
asked.   ‘You're not the police as
we’ve just come from there.’
    ‘Can we talk inside?’
    ‘What about?   That’s my point, man.   We are busy people.   What
about?’
    I gave him three names: Sir Simeon
Marchant, Djbril Mustapha, and Darren Patterson.
    ‘Marchant was my client,’ I added.
    ‘You better come in.   Do you want to sit in on this, Pete?’
    He was addressing the white guy.
    ‘No, you’re all right, Rube, man.   Leave it to you.’
    Inside we were buzzed through immediately.   I could feel the place come alive with
Reuben Symonds’s presence.   It
became more focused; people looked his way, or shouted out a greeting.   Several petitioners for credit stood up
and shook his hand like they were extremely grateful for something.   It was impressive, if slightly creepy.
    Symonds steered me through to a tiny
office that he unlocked with a key attached to his belt.   He reminded me of a prison warder, but
somehow I refrained from saying so.   There were three chairs and a computer station.   A homemade poster on the wall said: Have you saved your work ?   Symonds put his briefcase on one chair
and offered me another.   I sat
down.
    ‘Used to be my office,’ he said.   ‘They converted it to a training room
while I was on holiday.   They said
I was always out anyway.’
    He chuckled.
    I said, ‘I'm just glad Pete didn’t take
up your offer to join us.’
    Reuben Symonds smiled.   ‘Bit tight in here, isn’t it?   Yeah well you see the problem is Big Pete
is Darren’s brother.   So I thought
it was only polite.’
    ‘Kids, eh?’
    ‘Yes, the last they need is unnecessary
trouble.   Just got most of them all
back to school.’
    ‘That where you’ve been?’
    ‘Yeah, you know the usual talk.   Put the frighteners on Year 11.   Pete, Calvin and me do our bit for
Community Safety, alongside the local Bobbies.’
    He leant back in his chair, regarding me
evenly.
    ‘That’s where I remember you from!   It was bugging me.   British Library few years back.   You asked me a question.’
    ‘I remember your answer. ‘
    He laughed, not so cautious now.
    ‘It was the best question I have ever had from a group of coppers, any
group.   You said you liked my response to the government but you asked
when I thought someone like me would ever write
a community policing strategy. ’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘Exactly.   I was right.   People like me didn’t even get asked our views, let alone write them
down.   Although
things are changing now.   Now
I do get invited to the
meetings.   The
ones where they do write things down.   True, everyone is paid two or three times as much as me to
be there, but our opinions are
equal.   So they say.   I heard you got kicked out of the Met.’
    ‘I was asked to leave.’
    ‘Sounds like a party.’
    ‘It wasn’t.   Who told you?’
    ‘Chief Inspector Richie.   He said you might come round asking questions.   Did he give you the boys’ names?’
    ‘No.   And he told me not to come round asking questions.’
    ‘Why you got kicked... sorry asked to leave ,’ he observed.
    ‘Well, I guess these days I don’t have
to answer to the likes of DCI Richie.’
    Reuben Symonds sighed regretfully.
    ‘What can I tell you?   It was me that told Richie to lay off
them.’
    ‘I don’t need to see them exactly.   Especially if they
are at school.   I just
wanted to hear their side of the story.’
    ‘Hasn’t Richie told