Free We Are the Hanged Man by Douglas Lindsay Page A

Jacobson had noticed the glance between them, but since the only conclusion to be drawn from it was that the police were laughing at him, he chose not to draw the conclusion, to imagine that he just plain didn't know what they were talking about, and to move on.
    'We wondered about you coming up to London today, meeting the contestants, getting immersed in the vibe of the show, but we brown enveloped the matter and decided it'd work better if you've had as little contact with them as possible. Don't want to run the risk of you making any positive connection with any of them before we make it on air. It'll be edgier without it. They'll be nervous.'
    Jericho held his gaze for a moment then glanced at Hattie Morris. Her mood had picked up and she was generally looking terribly excited about the prospect of a couple of hours of electric television.
    'Brown enveloped?' he asked.
    'Talked about it in secret,' she said, then lifted her eyebrows in some sort of we're-all-in-it-together gesture.
    'For fuck's sake,' muttered Jericho.
    The meeting broke up shortly afterwards.
    *
    'You're going to have to do something about him,' said Jacobson to Light, as she was about to leave. Jericho had walked quickly from the office without waiting for her.
    'Yep,' added Morris, nodding.
    She stopped.
    'Not sure that I can. You pretty much get what you see with the DCI.'
    'He was sold to us as this maverick, Mel Gibson Lethal Weapon typa dude,' said Jacobson. 'I'm not seeing that.'
    'Who sold you that?' asked Light.
    Jacobson shrugged and looked at Morris. Morris shrugged.
    'It's what everyone says,' said Jacobson. 'We read the newspapers.'
    'You believe what you read in the papers?' asked Light.
    Jacobson smiled. 'Sure, you know, I hear what you're saying, but there's no smoke without fire, eh?'
    'That,' said Light, 'is certainly something the papers trade on.'
    Jacobson shrugged.
    'So, there you are. And we need to see this cool side of Jericho, the side the papers talk about.'
    Light glanced over her shoulder, then stepped back into the office, closing the door behind her.
    'All that stuff the tabloids are carrying about your contestants. The drugs and the sex and all that other shit. They get those stories from you, right?'
    Jacobson smiled awkwardly.
    'You never heard that from me, darlin',' he said.
    'And you make it all up?'
    'Well….,' he began, then his voice trailed away.
    'So you tell lies to journalists, then believe what you read in the papers,' said Light. 'Nice. No wonder society is so fucked up. I think I might start being as miserable as the boss.'
    She looked from Jacobson to Morris. Neither of them spoke. Confronted with someone who had seen through to the other side of the two-way mirror, as far as they were concerned the conversation was over.
    'You get what you see with the Chief Inspector,' she said again. 'See you tomorrow.'
    She opened the door and left, closing the door behind her and leaving Jacobson and Morris in silence.
    Jacobson didn't really do silence, so it didn't last.
    'Think that went pretty well,' he said, without a trace of irony.
    'Yep,' said Morris. 'Pretty well.'
    'We need to take control of the Jericho situation. Do we have a file on the guy?'
    'Not yet.'
    'Make one. Every piece of shit you can get. And all the stuff about his wife. That should make some pretty interesting live TV when we bring that up. That'll zap some life into the bastard.'
    'Totally,' said Morris, making notes.
    *
    Haynes found Jericho in the City Arms. Jericho didn't have a favourite bar, preferring to share his insubstantial business around the town. Never drank a second pint. Alcohol made him maudlin, and maudlin on top of depressed and fucked off was never a good combination.
    Sitting alone at a table, a nearly empty pint glass at his right hand, an empty crisp packet pushed to the side, the two Hanged Man cards in front of him. Haynes sat across from him, setting down a pint of Ashton Gate cider.
    'How'd it go with the TV people?'