Free SENTINEL: an exciting British detective crime thriller by JOHN STANLEY

have to be whiter than white.’ Connor was no longer able to contain his exasperation. ‘Oh, don’t look like that, Danny. We all know that Garvin has done Labour’s dirty business for years and there’s no way that de Vere will stand by and let us charge him. What the fuck were you thinking?’
    Radford shrugged again.
    Don’t show all your cards, that’s what England always says. Let the game play out and if friendships are among its victims then so be it.
    ‘If I didn’t know better…’ said Connor, his tone softer now, more understanding, the tone of a concerned friend. His voice tailed off.
    ‘Know what?’ Radford’s voice was hard-edged now. ‘Go on, spit it out. Say what you came to say.’
    ‘People remember what happened to your predecessor. It damned near tore this department apart and no one want to see that happen again. And Peter England is already asking awkward questions. And if Peter England knows, the Chief knows and there is no way that he will jeopardise his Queen’s Police Medal for the sake of a dirty cop. He’ll hang you out to dry. That’s what England says.’
    Radford tried his best to look anxious.
    I would expect nothing less of Peter. It’s what we agreed. Throw his weight around. Slam a few doors. Utter a few dire threats. Make it look good. Make sure that it gets back to de Vere. Me to take the hits, him to help keep the cover intact, always keep the cover intact. It’s his mantra.
    ‘What kind of questions is England asking?’ The inspector’s tone of voice contained just enough of a hint that he was concerned.
    ‘He is worried that we may have to release Garvin.’
    Radford looked at him intently. ‘And should we, Roland?’ he asked. ‘Should we drop it?’
    ‘Hell, no, I want Garvin,’ said Connor, standing up and walking to the door. ‘And I’m not going to let some DCI with shit for brains fuck it up either.’
    Radford watched him head out into the corridor and listened as the sound of his footsteps faded away. When his friend had definitely gone, he smiled.
    As long as there’s one good man.
    He thought of Gaines and frowned .
    Looking the other way? Damn it, why not just tell the truth? You saw what happened. Have I taught you nothing in our time together? Play it straight down the line and they can’t touch you.
    ‘Pot or kettle, Danny boy?’ he murmured. ‘Jesus, even I don’t know where the line is any more.’
    He stared into the middle distance for a few moments then smiled as his desk phone rang.
    Now I wonder who can this be, as if I didn’t know?
    ‘Connor given you his sword of truth speech yet?’ said a gruff voice when the DCI lifted the receiver.
    ‘Just left.’
    ‘He do the trembly voice bit?’ asked the chief superintendent. ‘I’ve got a tenner with the chief that he did the voice thing when he talked about your friendship.’
    ‘He did, yeah.’
    ‘Time for a chat then.’
    ‘I guess so, Peter. Twenty minutes. Usual place.’
    Radford replaced the receiver, stood up and unhooked his suit jacket from the back of the chair.
    Game on.
     
    Still limping and in pain from his knee, David Roberts reached the rundown terraced squat on the edge of the city centre shortly after 8pm, pushing his way through the unlocked front door and entering the dank mustiness of the hall. Although it was only half a mile from the church, it had taken him well over an hour to reach it as he constantly double-backed through back alleys to avoid the police patrols that had flooded the area in search of the man who put their colleague in hospital.
    Picking his way through the darkened hallway, David turned left into the living room to see, amid the illumination provided by the streetlight outside the window, two young men sprawled on the threadbare sofas, dead to a world that they once knew.
    He knew without asking who they were. The sallow, blond man was Guy Roper. Magistrate’s son, gaunt, bony, a derelict at twenty-one, his body racked with coughs