Chapter 54
LAUREN
It’s still dark when Lauren slips out of bed. Fraser is lying on his stomach, face in his pillow and one arm dangling off the edge. Lauren splashes water on her face and brushes her hair, but doesn’t shower or bother with make-up. Her heart is pounding.
She’s almost dressed when he stirs.
‘What time is it?’
Lauren forces herself to speak normally, even though her heart is racing fit to burst. ‘Not yet six. I’m going to head in early.’
‘How come?’ His voice is sticky with sleep.
Lauren pulls a sweater over her shirt. ‘Meetings.’
Fraser pushes himself up on his elbows. ‘Give me half an hour.’ He yawns cavernously, distorting the words that follow. ‘I’ll come wi—’
‘No need.’ She’s halfway out already. ‘I’ll see you at briefing,’ she calls, and it’s all she can do not to run from the house.
When the chief constable arrives at work, Lauren is sitting at his PA’s desk.
‘How’s your typing speed?’ he says, chuckling, then he takes in Lauren’s expression. ‘Ah. Looks like we need coffee for this one.’
‘I’ve asked counter-terrorism to meet me here,’ Lauren says. ‘And DC Whitfield from source management.’
‘We definitely need coffee.’ The chief flicks on the machine just as the ping of the lift announces the arrival of Whitty and DI Stratman.
When Lauren finishes speaking, the silence it leaves is so loud it feels like physical pressure.
‘All ready for Christmas . . .’ The chief looks at Whitty. ‘Is there intelligence to suggest New Dawn might carry out activity on Christmas Day?’
‘Not that we’re aware of, sir.’
‘We plan to bring in Carrie Finder this morning,’ Stratman says. ‘She might give us something.’ He turns to Lauren. ‘How long has Fraser been in the job?’
‘Ten years,’ Lauren says. ‘He was in the army before that.’
‘Has he ever given any indication of harbouring extremist views?’
Lauren’s chest tightens. ‘With respect, I wouldn’t have been with him if he had.
’ She takes a deep breath. ‘We don’t often talk about current affairs.
We’ve always been at opposite ends of the political spectrum, although – ’ she shakes her head ‘ – not to this extent. I had no idea.’ She digs her nails into the flesh of her palms.
‘How long have you been together?’ Whitty asks.
‘Over four years. We’re getting—’ Lauren takes a steadying breath. ‘We were due to get married the day after Christmas.’
It’s clear no one knows quite what to say or where to look. From the PA’s office, Lauren hears a computer being booted up.
‘The phone’s still under the bath,’ she says.
‘I didn’t dare take it out before I left the house today in case he checked it this morning.
’ She feels oddly detached, as though she’s watching from the sidelines.
Thinking of Fraser as a suspect, not a fiancé, is the only way she will be able to get through this.
Stratman leans forward. ‘You must be feeling so—’
‘I assumed you’d want to put him under surveillance,’ Lauren says crisply. Don’t be nice to me, she thinks. If you’re nice to me, I’ll cry. ‘We have less than twenty-four hours before New Dawn’s planned attack, and we still don’t know where their target is.’
Stratman meets her gaze. He gives an almost imperceptible nod. Understood. ‘We’ll get a team on him, and we’ll ask for Home Secretary authority to intercept his phone calls.’ He hesitates. ‘It means you’ll have to carry on today as if nothing has happened. Can you handle that?’
‘Of course.’ Lauren’s attempt at a businesslike tone is only partly successful. ‘At work, though, right? I can’t—’ Her voice cracks. ‘I can’t go home with him.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ the chief says grimly. ‘Fraser Hogan won’t be going home. Not for a very long time.’