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

bandstand from the other direction. Peter England, the detective chief superintendent in charge of the entire force CID, a burly, down-to-earth dark-haired man in his late forties, a bluff Yorkshireman who was a veteran of numerous murder inquiries and an adept political practitioner in the corridors of power at headquarters. A man now playing the highest stake of his career. England was the rule-maker and the game was top of the superintendent’s agenda as he shook the inspector’s hand.
    ‘You OK?’ asked England.
    ‘Persona non gratis, Peter. There’s plenty of folks reckon I’m on the take.’
    ‘I’d think the same, sunbeam. So would you. Your behaviour has been absolutely shocking. Job’s a good’ un.’
    ‘I suppose so,’ Radford frowned. ‘I don’t like misleading them like this, though. Particularly not Roland. He’s a good friend and a good copper and it seems wrong to keep things from him. He beginning to doubt me and it’s hurting him. Gaines has been making no secret of his doubts for weeks. Just doesn’t quite dare say it.’
    England sat down on the bandstand steps and lit a cigarette, which glowed in the darkness.
    ‘Connor is a good copper,’ he said. ‘So is Gaines. Jesus, never thought I’d hear myself saying that about Michael Gaines. You’ve worked miracles with the man, Danny. Look, Connor will get my job when I make ACC but we can’t risk him knowing too much. Not yet anyway. Not when we’re this close. Heard from de Vere yet?’
    ‘Not yet.’ Radford patted the mobile phone in his jacket pocket. ‘Thought he would have rung by now but it won’t be long. He’ll be panicking.’
    ‘That what your man in the council says?’
    Radford shook his head. ‘He’ll be keeping his head down now. Last thing he wants is to be seen talking to me at a time like this. And he’ll not want to fall foul of Neil Garvin, either. Everyone knows what he does to those who cross him. They only have to look at what happened to the vicar if they need reminding.’
    ‘Yeah, I don’t blame him for keeping out of it. How is the good reverend?’
    ‘Pissed off.’
    ‘I’ll bet he is but I am not sure either of us saw it coming. Should have really. Poke a wasp’s nest hard enough and Garvin is a nasty fucker.’ England stood up, drew on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke into the night air. He chuckled. ‘Not as nasty as you, mind, Danny. Heard you hit him good and proper. One of my better ideas, even if I say so myself, and while they do all the public hand-wringing, there’s plenty will be cheering you in private for lamping the twat.’
    ‘I know but Connor reckons you have no option but to suspend me, or at the very least take me off the case. I hope you know what you are doing.’
    ‘I told you, Danny, you leave Connor to me. You’ll not be suspended and de Vere will assume you are what he always hoped you were, a tame copper as fireproof as they come. When he knows that, he’ll make his mistake. That’s why you have to see him tonight. Give him that final push.’
    England started to walk away then stopped and turned.
    ‘This will all be over soon,’ England waved a hand and ambled off into the night, his cigarette still glowing darkness. ‘Keep the faith, Danny.’
     
    Struggling to keep hold of his faith, the bishop was still sitting at the desk in his dimly-lit office as the grandfather clock out in the hallway struck eight. He sat with his head down, his eyes closed, feeling the pressures of the world crowding in on him. Feeling suddenly older than he had ever felt before, his mind turned to his calling, as it had many times over in recent days, and he clasped his hands tight together.
    ‘God forgive me for I have sinned,’ he murmured.
    ‘That’s no way to talk,’ said a voice. The bishop started and looked over to the door. He had not heard his chaplain enter the room. Never did, it was like the man was not even flesh and blood. No wonder some called him the Holy