The Summons Read Online Free PDF

said Smith.
    “Under three-quarters,” said Brown. “Have a coffee when we get there.”
    “By then I’ll need something stronger than coffee.”
    The last stretch, over the rump of the Costwolds on the A46 after leaving the motorway, gave Brown the opportunity to bring the experience to a heart-thumping climax, leaving tire marks at intervals on the winding descent from Cold Ashton, beside what Diamond knew was a sheer drop of several hundred feet if the car left the road.
    In other circumstances the night panorama of Bath with its myriad lights spreading out from the floodlit Abbey would have been a welcome sight. He saved his approval for the moment they turned right onto the level stretch of the London Road.
    “Good.”
    “Good driving, or good to be here?” said Smith.
    “What time is it?”
    “Just after three.”
    “All of two hours. What kept us so long?”
    Smith and Brown were easy targets. He looked forward to sharper exchanges presently.
    “Who will I see at the nick? Who are the insomniacs on the roster?”
    Smith didn’t know, or didn’t care to answer.
    The car drew up at the entrance to Manvers Street Police Station and Diamond, buoyant after surviving the trip, went in with Smith to get the answer to his question.
    The public reception area had been altered since Diamond’s day, drastically reduced in size by partitioning. The silver trophies won by the force remained on display in a glass cabinet, practically daring the local smash-and-grab lads to have a try. A round mirror was strategically placed to give a view of anyone entering. The desk sergeant operated from behind protective glass, like a bank clerk. He was one of the old hands and his face lit up. “Mr. Diamond! It’s a real tonic to see you again.” A warmer welcome than old acquaintance merited. Diamond wasn’t fooled: it said more about the new regime than his own lovability.
    Smith escorted him upstairs to the room the top brass used as an office when they visited. Ironically, it was the same room Diamond had stormed out of the last time he had been here. That ill-starred morning, Mr. Tott, the Assistant Chief Constable, in uniform, every button fastened, had been at the far end of the oval mahogany table to inform Diamond he was being taken off the murder inquiry he was heading and replaced by Wigfull. The offense? He had allegedly caused concussion to a turbulent twelve-year-old who had kicked him in the privates. All he had done was push the boy aside, against a wall. Young Matthew had later admitted he was faking the concussion, but by then Diamond had resigned.
    The door stood open.
    “Go right in,” said Smith. “Mr. Tott is waiting.”
    Diamond slapped a hand against the door frame. “Did you say Tott? I don’t believe this.”
    “The ACC,” Smith whispered reverentially.
    “I know who he is,” Diamond said in a voice that must have carried into the room. “I don’t wish to speak to him.” He turned away from the door and started back along the corridor to the stairs. He wasn’t sure where he was heading except away from that bloody man he despised. The anger he thought he had dissipated two years ago had him seething.
    Smith came after him and caught him by the arm. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”
    “Just enough to prevent carnage.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Don’t worry. It’s no concern of yours.”
    “But it is. I was supposed to bring you to that room. They’re waiting in there to speak to you. It’s the middle of the night, for pity’s sake! Where are you going?”
    “As far away from that dipstick as I can. I’m a civilian. I don’t have to grovel.”
    He continued downstairs.
    “I can’t let you do this, Mr. Diamond,” Smith called after him. “You can’t leave the building.”
    “Try and stop me,” the ex-detective shouted back. “Do you have a warrant?”
    Upon reaching the ground floor, he walked briskly to the entrance hall, past his friend the desk sergeant