‘You’re saying I already know what I need to know?’ Carol looked dubious.
‘If you don’t, even someone as smart as you isn’t going to learn it between now and next week. The first thing I want you to do is to think about someone you’ve encountered who would be relatively comfortable in this scenario.’ He tapped the papers with his pen. ‘Not over-confident, just reasonably at home with it.’
Carol frowned as she flicked back through her memories of criminals she’d gone head to head with over the years. She’d never worked with the Drugs Squad, but she’d encountered both dealers and mules more often than she could count when she’d been running the CID in the North Sea port of Seaford. None of them seemed to fit. The dealers were too cocky or too fucked up by their own product, the mules too lacking in initiative. Then she remembered Janine. ‘I think I’ve got someone,’ she said. ‘Janine Jerrold.’
‘Tell me about her.’
‘She started out as one of the hookers down at the docks. She was unusual, because she never had a pimp. She worked for herself, out of an upstairs room in a pub run by her aunt. By the time I came across her, she’d moved on to something a bit more lucrative and less physically dangerous. She ran a team of organized shoplifters. Occasionally, we’d lift one of the girls, but we never got our hands on Janine. Everybody knew she was behind it. But none of her girls would grass her up, because she always looked after them. She’d turn up to court to pay their fines, cash on the nail. And if they got sent down, she made sure their kids were looked after. She was smart, and she had so much bottle.’
Tony smiled. ‘OK, now we’ve got Janine in our sights. That’s the easy bit. What you have to do now is construct Janine for yourself. You need to mull over everything you’ve seen her do and say, and work out what ingredients went into the mix to make her the woman she is now.’
‘In four days?’
‘Obviously, it’s going to be a rough draft, but you can work something up in that time. Then comes the really hard bit. You’ve got to shed Carol Jordan and assume Janine Jerrold.’
Carol looked worried. ‘You think I’m up to it?’
He cocked his head on one side, considering. ‘Oh, I think so, Carol. I think you’re up to just about anything you set your mind to.’
There was a moment of silence, electric and pregnant. Then Tony jumped to his feet and said, ‘More coffee. I need more coffee. And then we need to plan what we’re going to do next.’
‘Next?’ Carol said, following him into the hall.
‘Yes. We haven’t got much time. We need to start role-playing right away.’
Before Carol could answer, there was the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. They both swivelled round to face the front door, their faces rigid with surprise. The door swung open to reveal a trim woman in her late thirties. She pulled her key out of the lock, giving them both a smile whose warmth evaded her eyes. ‘Hi, you must be Carol,’ Frances said, pushing the door to behind her, stuffing her keys into her pocket and holding out her hand. Her eyes were scanning Carol from head to toe, taking in the short skirt with a slight raise of the eyebrows.
Carol shook it automatically.
‘Carol, this is Frances,’ Tony gabbled.
‘Why on earth are you hanging around in the hall?’ Frances asked.
‘We were going to make more coffee,’ Tony said, backing into the kitchen doorway.
‘I’m sorry to butt in,’ Frances said, steering Carol into the living room. ‘I feel so stupid about this. But I left a pile of fourth-year jotters that I was marking last night. I was in such a rush, I clean forgot them this morning. And I need to give them their essays back tomorrow.’
Yeah, right, thought Carol, watching with a cynical eye as Frances picked up a pile of school notebooks tucked away round the far side of the sofa.
‘I was just going to sneak in and fetch them. But if you were breaking for a cup of coffee, I might as well join you.’ Frances turned and fixed Carol with a sharp stare. ‘Unless I’m interrupting something?’
‘We’d just reached a natural break,’ Carol said stiffly. She knew she should say something along the lines of how pleased she was to meet Frances, but while she might have what it took to go undercover, she still didn’t feel comfortable lying in a social situation.
‘Tony?’ Frances called. ‘I’ll stop for a quick coffee, if that’s OK.’
‘Fine,’ came the reply from the kitchen. Carol was reassured to hear he sounded as enthusiastic as she felt.
‘You’re not at all how I’d imagined you,’ Frances said, chilly dismissal in her voice.
Carol felt fourteen again, snagged on the jagged edge of her maths teacher’s sarcasm. ‘Most people don’t have much idea about what cops are really like. I mean, we’ve all been to school, we know what to expect from teachers. But people tend to rely on TV for their images of police officers.’
‘I don’t watch much TV myself,’ Frances said. ‘But from the little that Tony has said about you, I was expecting someone more … mature, I suppose is the word. But look at you. You look more like one of my sixth-year students than a senior police officer.’
Carol was spared from further sparring by Tony’s return. They sat around for twenty minutes making small talk, then Frances gathered up her marking and left them to it. After he saw her out, Tony came back into the room shaking his head ruefully. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said.
‘You can’t blame her,’ Carol said. ‘Probably just as well you weren’t showing me the view from the upstairs rooms, though.’
It should have been a cue for laughter. Instead, Tony looked at the carpet and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘Shall we get on?’ he said.
They’d worked on various role-plays for the rest of the evening, not even stopping over dinner. It was demanding work, taking all Carol’s concentration. By the time the taxi came to take her back to her hotel, she was worn out from the combination of exercising her imagination and exorcizing her emotions. They said their farewells on the doorstep, stepping into an awkward hug, his lips brushing the soft skin under her ear. She’d wanted to burst into tears, but had held herself tightly in check. By the time she’d returned to the hotel, she felt only a hollowness in her stomach.
Now, as she stared out across the sea, Carol allowed herself to acknowledge her anger. It wasn’t directed at Tony; she acknowledged he had never held out an unfulfilled promise to her. Her fury was all turned against herself. She had no one else to blame for the emotional heartburn that plagued her.
She knew she had two choices. She could let this rage fester inside her like a wound that could poison her whole system. Or she could finally draw a line under the past and use that energy to drive her forward into the future. She knew what she wanted to do. The only question was whether she could manage it.
Case Notes
Name: Pieter de Groot
Session Number: 1
Comments: The patient’s lack of affect is notable. He is unwilling to engage and shows a disturbing level of passivity. Nevertheless, he has a high opinion of his own capabilities. The only subject on which he seems willing to discourse is his own intellectual superiority. His self-image is grandiose in the extreme.
His demeanour is not justified by his achievement, which seems best described as mediocre. However, his view of his capacities has been