Chapter 30 No Running
No Running
Inspector Clive Baxter arrested Barrington Manville two weeks later. Verifying Jack’s data, putting a case together, and obtaining a warrant hadn’t taken nearly as long as Gareth had supposed. And Baxter had kept them informed.
Aidan and Alex joined them for their mini-celebration and they’d all eaten far too much, from grilled steaks and sausages to potato salad and coleslaw.
The plates of chocolate eclairs and strawberry tartlets were bare, and Daniel and Nico had said their goodnights and gone to bed.
Gareth counted that last as a massive win, even with the chance of Daniel’s nightmares waking them later.
In the nearly six weeks since Jack’s birthday, the boys had spent each night at home, and Gareth was grateful the break-in hadn’t cost them all the progress they’d made.
He blamed that result on Jack’s insistence—from the very beginning—that Daniel and Nico made their own choices, whether they discussed what to have for dinner or whether to testify in court.
Now, with another crisis handled, they allowed themselves to relax.
Even Jack was halfway to being drunk. Not that anyone could tell from his diction or the subjects under discussion.
The only way Jack showed his inebriation was by being a little more outspoken than usual.
Which was—of course—why Conrad was needling him.
Getting Jack to give his opinion without censoring every word twice first was always entertaining.
Though judging by Aidan’s face, he hadn’t expected what came out of Jack’s mouth.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Conrad.” Jack snagged another beer from the table and popped the top.
“You can sound as snarly as you want, but you’re no delinquent.
You’ve made a business out of bending the law exactly because you believe in the law.
You’re a straight-and-narrow guy. Just like Gallant, never mind his awesome B&E skills. ”
“Is that so?” Aidan sounded amused rather than offended.
“It is. If you want to see delinquents, look at Alex and me,” Jack advised, completely serious. “We’ll kick arse, take names, and deal with the consequences after.” He shrugged. “You need… not sure how to define that… you need a…”
“Spine of steel.”
“Yeah, sure, but that’s for after, when the consequences come calling. No, you need a disregard for the law to break it like we do. You need to believe in something beyond the law. And you don’t.”
“What about me, then?” Gareth wondered.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “I’m still on the fence about you. I used to have you in the straight-and-narrow bucket right alongside Conrad, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Would you mind?”
“Mind what? That you bat for justice while ignoring the law? I can’t really berate you for something I do myself. Only thing I’d say is—don’t do it because you think you have to keep up with me. Do it because you believe it. Otherwise, you’ll tie yourself in knots.”
And wasn’t that the truth?
Gareth couldn’t remember the reasoning that had led him into Purple Line, but Rio’s comment about letting the past interfere with the present had stayed with him.
And he’d decided that while they navigated the aftermath of Manville’s betrayal and Pavel Mitrovic’s kidnapping attempt, he’d stick to things he knew.
He and Jack were protectors, committed to keeping others safe.
They only differed in the way they went about it, and Gareth had started to question that.
Whether those questions led anywhere, only time would tell.
It wasn’t a choice he needed to rush. For now, he’d enjoy having his family and friends around him, safe and sound, and leave fights and worries for another day.
The morning commute had become so familiar, Gareth no longer calculated average waiting times, possible top speed, or volume of traffic at a particular roundabout.
Instead, he planned his workday, made lists, or—as on this morning—brainstormed ideas for Nico’s birthday.
When the phone rang, he picked up the call with the smile.
“Hi Pauline. And how are you on this sunny Friday morning?”
Judging from the sounds coming from his speaker, Pauline was already at work.
“It’s the last Friday of the month, so how do you think? The factory is going ballistic and it’s mayhem dialled up to 11 around here.”
“And how can I help with that?”
“By staying well away. I wouldn’t let any of you near my production controls, I’d be too worried about things blowing up.”
“Right.”
“You know it’s true. But you can help me with a bit of information, if you don’t mind.”
“Information?”
“I’ve been hearing a rumour that Barrington Manville has been arrested. Confirm or deny?”
“A rumour, was it? Rather than Daniel and Nico sharing the good news with their friends?”
“So it’s true?”
“It’s true, yes. But try and keep it quiet if you can. It’s an active investigation.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m calling.” All the teasing had vanished from Pauline’s voice. “I was hoping we could use this to get rid of Fenton.”
Gareth blinked. “Get rid of Fenton? He wouldn’t ever be my choice for head teacher, but I don’t think that will fly. Manville had passed all his checks. He worked in a dozen schools at least. Fenton didn’t break any rules when he hired him.”
“I know, but… this wasn’t the first time Manville took advantage of pupils. The girls were warned by the years above them, right? Shouldn’t the school have done something about it? Even something as mundane as putting a TA in the class, for example?”
Gareth heard the frustration in her tone and just knew what she was going to say next.
“Us parents weren’t any better. We teach our girls how to be safe, but then we expect the school to step in and do that for us. And Fenton’s an excellent teacher, but he doesn’t like to rock the boat and that’s a dangerous attitude for a Head to have.”
“Yes. When I saw him to discuss the dance class incident, he was very keen to label it all a misunderstanding.”
“Exactly. So… if I were to raise Fenton’s lack of leadership with the school governors, I’d have your support?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think he’ll get the sack,” Pauline soothed as if she sensed his unease. “This is Fenton we’re talking about. He’ll resign as head, return to teaching rather than running the school, and be much happier for it.”
“You’re most likely correct. What’s the other reason?”
A surprised laugh sputtered down the line.
“Memory. Elephant. And you’re going to laugh, but this whole mess is teaching me a lesson, too.
Jess, Carol, and a few others have decided that it shouldn’t always be your two who make all the effort.
They’ve been sitting around my house the last few days comparing notes and making plans.
I don’t want to discourage them, but I also don’t know what to do.
What will happen to them if they take their story to the police?
Since you got the T-shirt for that one, I was wondering if you had any insights. ”
Gareth thought while he threaded the car through the commuter traffic, and Pauline didn’t interrupt. Only the slight static in his ear reminded him she was still on the call.
“Sweeping the street isn’t pleasant,” Gareth said. “And yes, I’m quoting Jack here. I can’t tell you the best way to move this forward, but I can hook you up with a friend of ours. He’s a barrister, and he can walk you through the whole process and tell you if he thinks it’s a good idea or not.”
“He’s separate from the police?”
“In this case? Very much so. The girls can tell their stories, he’ll listen, and he’ll lay out your options for you.”
Pauline digested that. “Is he good?” she asked a moment later.
“He’s excellent. I do jobs for him now and then if he needs help, and so does Jack.”
Pauline’s exhale was audible even over the static, and Gareth realised that his last words had helped her decide.
Jack’s reputation as a protector and a crusader had swayed Pauline.
Jack wouldn’t understand why that mattered, but Gareth hugged the knowledge to himself like a secret treat as he promised to forward Aidan’s details, made his goodbyes, and turned his mind back to the traffic and his lists.
Even six weeks after the break-in, and with all players in custody, Jack found switching his den for his desk at Nancarrow’s Strand office a wrench, the muted dread of another attack like a nest of ants in the back of his mind.
Muffling the noise took work, but Jack owed Janet and Frazer a long lunch and that—more than any other tasks and considerations—drew him from the house.
Since Julian had commandeered the lunch slot with a security review, he dragged the two next door to the Savoy for afternoon tea.
“And here I thought Simpson’s was posh.” Janet took in the Art Deco splendour. “This is posh in a different vein.”
“They make fabulous scones,” Jack offered.
“I’ll eat all the sugar they care to give me.” Frazer settled into his chair with a sigh. “I’ve been skipping far too many meals lately.”
“Any particular reason?”
Frazer shrugged. “Does rampant curiosity count? Janet keeps throwing me names, most of which I don’t recognise. I thought I had a much better handle on the industry.”
“Mining isn’t the same as investment, I keep telling you.” Janet took a champagne flute off a server’s tray and held it up.
They clinked glasses, and Jack picked up the conversation.
“Janet’s right. You don’t have to learn the phonebook by heart. And you’d better not let Gareth catch you picking up my bad habits. He’ll force feed you three square meals a day.”
“Is that supposed to be a hardship?”
“It is when you have to put in extra hours in the gym.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Two servers arrived with sandwiches, cakes, pastries, and petits fours on tiered stands.
“Was it just me, or was Julian positively bouncy this morning?” Jack asked once he’d made short work of the dainty cucumber and roast beef sandwiches.