Dark Blue Reflections

by Tarlan

The noise level was deafening, smoke hung densely around the bar
and, barely heard above the sound of so many voices, a jukebox
reeled out recent hits for a price. The pub was no different from
several others around the area with its fake 16th Century decor
and yellow-nicotine ceiling. A large open fire was the centre
piece at one end of the room composed of a cast iron grate with a
pile of logs stacked up high against the wall beside it, but the
fireplace would remain cold and unused until the dark winter
nights drew in. The crowd was made up of many groups, some large,
some small but most seemed to be young men wearing the blue and
white of Millwall. A loud shout drowned out the voices only to be
taken up in chorus by others as some unintelligible football ditty
was bellowed out. Pint glasses were raised in victorious salute to
their heroes, the pale yellow liquid splashing out onto the
scuffed and worn carpet. The door opened and a couple of young
lads peered inside but quickly disappeared so as to avoid the
clash of bodies that would follow the clash of scarf colours.

A few regulars were holed up at the far end of the bar trying to
avoid the over exuberant Millwall supporters. One of these was a
youngish man, around his mid twenties with straight dark hair
combed over to one side and a pale, hawkish face. He drew the pint
glass up to his lips and swallowed a mouthful of Wadworth's 6X,
nodding his approval. The landlord of The Rose and Crown knew how
to keep a good beer. This was his fifth pint and not a duff one
amongst the lot. His slate grey eyes flitted around a room that
grew ever more hazy with each pint he consumed; he was not
positive if that was caused by the increased smoke or the beer.
Secretly he was hoping to see a familiar face amongst the crush of
strangers but it seemed as if most of the regulars had moved on to
safer pubs or to any one of the many discotheques within a five
mile radius. Movement out of one corner of his eye caught his
attention and he watched as another loner pushed away from the bar
and through the crowd towards him. He tensed slightly, wary of
finding trouble but the other man, of similar age but with a shock
of wavy brown hair and pale blue eyes, sat down in what had to be
the only free chair left in the place and introduced himself in a
soft Midlands accent.

********************

Inspector Monroe grimaced as the sound of a scuffle broke out in
the Custody Area just along the corridor from his own office.
Raised voices reached him with chants of 'Blue Army, Blue Army'
but it was a calling to arms of the Millwall Supporters rather
than for Monroe's own blue uniformed Police Officers. He toyed
with the idea of going to investigate but decided to wait; his
people were good at their jobs and would not welcome any intrusion
from him no matter how well intended. He would intercede only if
the situation did not appear to have been resolved within the next
minute. The noise gradually died away as the drunken yobbos were
escorted to the cells to sleep off the alcohol they had consumed
leaving only the normal sounds of a busy Saturday night at Sun
Hill Police Station.

Saturday's were always the worst and most of those taken into
custody would be released the following day with either a caution
or a court appearance for D&D, Drunk and Disorderly, depending on
the circumstances.

Monroe shook his head, his mouth a tight line of disapproval as he
thought of the effects of alcohol on some of the people who passed
through the Custody Area. He did not pity the cleaners their job
of clearing up the vomit and other body fluids that would be left
behind in the cells once tonight's prisoners had been removed. It
was not that he was a teetotaller but he knew when he had reached
his limit. It was a shame not everyone had the same control over
their drinking. A knock on the door pulled his thoughts away from
the Saturday night drunks and he glanced up just as the door
opened to reveal PC Hollis.

"Sir, we've got a problem in the Front Office. There's a man
insisting on seeing a senior officer about his brother."

"Can't you deal with it, Hollis?"

"Ordinarily, Sir, yes I could but he says his father is on the
local Council and he's threatening to call in the Press for
unlawful detention. I thought, seeing how're your senior officer
here tonight you might want to have a word with him."

Monroe sighed in frustration as he filled in the missing gaps for
himself. This was all he needed, the son of some pushed-up
beaurocrat causing a scene that could turn into yet another
embarrassing political scandal for the Police.

"Which of the Interview Room's are free?"

"Number Two."

"Well, take him there. Oh, and Hollis, pick up the Custody Record
on his brother and bring it here first."

"Yes, Sir. Would you like me to contact Mr Cato....?"

"I'm sure we can handle this, Hollis, without dragging the Chief
Inspector from his warm bed."

While he waited for Reg Hollis to return Andrew Monroe stared back
down at the report spread before him then rubbed his tired eyes as
the words wiggled on the page. Arrest statistics were never that
interesting at the best of times but he had promised to have the
report on Chief Superintendent Brownlow's desk before the man
arrived back on duty on Monday morning. Monroe smiled sardonically
to himself. One of the privileges of rank was being able to choose
your own duty times so Brownlow was rarely at Sun Hill during the
weekends or on the night shift. To be honest, between meetings,
conferences and rounds of golf, the man was rarely there at all. A
month ago Monroe would have wished he had a similar choice but
these days all he had was The Job. There was nothing outside of
Sun Hill except time to think and he had spent the passed three
weeks trying not to think of anything. He spared a glance at the
overflowing in-tray, the product of too many duties to perform
with too little time available but did not allow himself to worry
about the situation. He was too methodical and organised to allow
anything to slip by through a lack of attention to the paperwork
and had already cast a critical eye over each item to weed out the
rubbish and keep himself abreast of the important matters - plus
filing that lot would provide him with another excuse to avoid
going home. That brought another small smile to his face. Most of
the officers at Sun Hill, both uniformed and plainsclothed,
thought of him as an unimaginative, by-the-book martinet; a piece
of the furniture like a typewriter or a filing cabinet. It was
hard to say whether his cold and detached efficiency had earned
him their respect or their derision. Maybe it was a little bit of
both. They probably believed he lived and breathed only for Sun
Hill and, until recently, they would have been right for over the
passed few years Monroe had done everything within his power to
shut out any possibility of a life outside of The Job.

He frowned as he wondered what these same officers would say if
they ever learnt of the volcanic emotions that lay simmering
beneath his often cold exterior. DCI Meadows had released those
emotions a few weeks previously and Monroe had found it more
difficult with each passing day to keep the stone-faced facade in
place. His lips tightened again in anger as he caught his thoughts
slipping back to the hotel room where simulated sex with Jack
Meadows had turned only too real. The whole purpose of the act was
to produce a credible video that could be used to lure in a
corrupt senior police officer. The objective had been to force
Assistant Chief Constable Singleton to retire and, hence, put an
end to his persecution of Gay officers. Operation 'Other Half' had
succeeded in that respect but had also succeeded in making Monroe
question his own sexuality.

Originally, he had told Meadows he had no concerns about
simulating a homosexual act as he knew what he was; a
heterosexual, married man with teenage daughters and a nice semi-
detached house in a good neighbourhood. Now he was not so sure.
All the things he had swept under the carpet during his life had
returned to haunt him. As a young Derbyshire miner he had found
himself attracted to his Shift Supervisor but had convinced
himself it was merely a case of hero-worship; nothing more. To
prove it he had run into the arms of a local girl and they had
been married within a few months. He knew he did not love her, he
never had. It was a marriage of convenience for both of them but
over the years they had become 'comfortable' with each other. She
never demanded anything of him now not even sex which neither had
found that desirable even in the early years. He blamed himself
for the lack of interest and, as if in penance, never mentioned
his knowledge of her adultery.

Her latest man had come onto the scene just over two years ago.
Monroe knew all about him; his name, where he lived, where he
worked.... No, he had never blamed her for looking outside of
their marriage for the physical love she craved even though he
could not understand it's attraction - until now. Sex with Jack
Meadows had been mind shattering. As Meadows had said later, the
earth had moved and it had rocked all of Monroe's preconceptions
of himself at the same time. Nothing could ever be the same again.

Monroe shook himself out of the thoughts that crowded in on him,
afraid to look too deeply at his life yet knowing the cracks had
already appeared and were widening with every unchecked thought. A
knock on his door brought welcome relief for, no matter what his
subconscious said, this was not the time for reflecting on the
consequences of those few hours of unadulterated pleasure with
Jack Meadows - but as Sergeant Cryer stuck his head around the
door a small, determined part of his mind asked the question: when
would there be a right time?

"Sir, I've got those additional figures you asked for... Are you
alright, Sir?"

"Yes, Bob, I'm fine. Saturday Nights."

Bob Cryer nodded in sympathy but his eyes betrayed his concern. He
had never seen the Inspector looking so tired and could tell the
man had lost more than just a few pounds in weight over the passed
few weeks which couldn't be put down solely to working the late
shift. Monroe had not been himself for some time, not since....
Bob Cryer wished he could do something. Perhaps it was time to
have a word with Jack Meadows before Monroe wasted away before his
eyes. Any other thoughts were pushed aside as Hollis made his
presence known. Cryer frowned deeply.

"What's up?"

Monroe accepted the Custody Record from Reg Hollis and turned his
attention to the Arresting Officer's report, grateful that Bob
Cryer had not pursued his enquiry into his state of health.

"We have the son of a local dignitary kicking up a bit of a
stink."

"Do you want me to handle it?"

Monroe shook his head.

"No, Bob, I'm sure you have enough to do already. I'll sort this
one out."

Reg Hollis took advantage of the momentary silence.

"I'll show Mr. Cadwell to Interview Room 2 and wait for you there.
I'll get him a cuppa on the way. It might calm him down a bit."

"Good idea, Hollis. I'll read through this and join you in, say,
five minutes."

Monroe waited until both officers had left the room to carry on
with their assigned duties and then flipped open the report.

********************

Interview Room 2 was only a short walk away. Of course he could
have asked Hollis to bring the man along to the Duty Inspector's
Office but Monroe felt strangely reluctant to allow anyone in
there who could destroy the air of calm efficiency that pervaded
his room. He needed it's quiet normality to keep his own swirling
whirlpool of emotions in check.

Monroe entered to find the man seated at the far side of the main
table, facing the door. His delayed arrival and the partially
emptied cup of tea seemed to have had the desired effect of
defusing some of the anger for the man sat with one elbow resting
on the table top lightly propping up his chin. Monroe made a quick
inspection, taking in the bright, intelligent eyes that narrowed
with sudden speculative interest and felt the hackles rise on the
back of his neck. Something seemed wrong yet Reg Hollis had risen
to his feet and stood quite calmly with his back to the man as he
waited for his superior to sit down on the chair placed next to
his own. This confused the Inspector but then he remembered his
current mental state and knew his own judgement may have been
impaired. He gave a half-smile, ignoring a nagging feeling of
familiarity and firmly pushing aside his earlier fears as he took
his seat.

"Sir, this is Mr. Michael Cadwell. Mr. Cadwell, this is Inspector
Monroe. He's the highest ranking officer at Sun Hill at this
time."

Monroe leant forward on the table, a look of genuine interest
apparent on his face in spite of his earlier apprehension. Unlike
some others his rapid rise from Police Constable to Inspector had
been the result of honest hard work and attention to detail
without any of the scheming and political machination that usually
accompanied the high-flyers so he had retained his enthusiasm for
wanting to help the general public.

"Mr. Cadwell, how may I help you?"

The man smiled enigmatically as he drew a small calibre firearm
from his coat pocket.

"Just by being here, Inspector Monroe."

Both officers froze.

"Constable Hollis, I thank you for your kindness. Now leave us. I
only need one and he'll do far, far better than you."

The matter-of-fact tone brooked no argument yet Hollis still
looked to Monroe for confirmation and felt some small amount of
relief as he read calm detachment in the dark eyes.

"It's alright, Hollis."

"Yes, Sir."

********************

Hollis closed the door softly behind him and then ran at full
speed down the corridor to the CAD Room. The sound of laughter met
him as he shoved open the door but was quickly muted as the three
occupants turned in their seats to face him.

"He's taken him hostage!"

"What!"

It took a few seconds for Cryer to make sense of his subordinate's
outburst but once he realised the gravity of the situation the CAD
Sergeant wasted no more time. He looked to Cathy Marshall,
grateful she was still on duty. He needed someone he could trust
to act impersonally during such a crisis and wasted no time on
pleasantries.

"Cathy, get hold of Mr. Brownlow. We have a hostage situation in
Interview Room 2."

"Where's Monroe?"

"He's the hostage."

"Christ!"

Her fingers quickly accessed the computer and dialed up Brownlow's
home number. The call was answered on the third ring just as Cryer
grabbed the spare headset. It took only seconds to relay the facts
of the latest crisis.

<I'm on my way. Call in DCI Meadows and SO19. And keep everyone
else away from the area until I get there.>

"Yes, Sir."

Cryer relayed the instructions to Marshall and looked up as the
door flew open once more. PC Tony Stamp had been amazed and then
concerned when Norika Datta told him she had just seen Reg Hollis
running flat out towards CAD. Some instinct told him he should get
down there right away.

"Hey, Sarge. What's going on?"

"Tony, I want you and Loxton outside Interview Room 2 now. Nobody
goes in there, understand?"

"Yes, Sarge but..."

"No 'Buts', Tony. And tell Datta and Garfield break time's over. I
want those corridors clear. All Civilians out of the way. And tell
Sgt. Boyden to keep a handle on the Custody Area - we don't need
any more surprises tonight. Well, don't just stand there!"

Cryer turned his attention back to the officers manning CAD as
Tony Stamp rushed out of the door to find Datta and Garfield.

"Cathy, call in Tosh. That burglary on Essex Road will have to
wait, also, find out who's still in the CID Office, get them down
here now. Tell June I want a basic Incident Room set up but use
the Conference Room by Brownlow's office - it's out of the way.
Gary, check the name 'Michael Cadwell' on PNC, see if we have
anything on him."

Cryer sat down hard on a nearby desktop and watched his people get
on with their given tasks. Gary McCann swore profusely and Cryer
knew without asking that PNC, the Police National Computer, was
down yet again. The information on Cadwell might not be
forthcoming for some time. Cryer cursed the system for choosing
such an inopportune moment to crash.

"Cathy, get onto the Yard and find out if the system's crashed
just on us. If it has pass the details over to the Duty Sergeant
and ask him to fax us anything he finds, otherwise ask them when
the computer will be back up. Gary, go back to monitoring normal
traffic."

Bob Cryer wished he could be out there dealing with Cadwell but
someone had to co-ordinate the effort until Brownlow arrived. He
swore under his breath, his mind ablaze with concern for Monroe,
silently berating both himself and the Metropolitan Police
department as a whole. They should have introduced a policy of
checking people over before leaving Officers alone with them a
long time ago. In addition, Cryer wondered whether his own
infamous sixth sense would have kicked in if he had insisted on
dealing with the man himself or whether, just like Hollis, he
would have been lulled into believing the man was just another
angry person looking out for a family member who'd been nicked.
For a moment it puzzled him that Monroe could have been taken in
but then he remembered how tired and distracted the Inspector had
seemed only a few minutes previously. Well, he had done as much as
he could for now and knew he had to wait and let his people do
their jobs. Cryer looked up as the door opened and a head peeked
around the corner.

"Heard all the commotion. What's going on?"

Detective Sergeant Alistair Grieg had already pulled an extra 4
hours overtime that day and had been on his way home when he
spotted 'A' Relief running around the corridors. However, the grim
expressions on the faces in the CAD room warned him this was no
practice session. Something was up; something particularly nasty.

"Bomb alert?"

"No. Monroe's been taken hostage."

"What!"

Reg Hollis quickly joined in the conversation, welcoming the
opportunity to look as if he knew what was going on and revelling
in the attention he would get.

"A few of the lads were called to a disturbance at the Crown and
nicked half a dozen for D&D. About fifteen minutes ago, a man came
into the Front Office demanding to see the highest rank about the
unlawful arrest of his brother. The man looked as if he meant
business so I took it straight to Mr Monroe. The Inspector agreed
to see him in Interview Room 2 but when he arrived the man pulled
a gun and ordered me out."

"And you had no idea the man could be carrying a weapon?"

"No, Sir. I would never have let him anywhere near the Inspector
if I thought he could be dangerous."

"Did you get a name?"

"Michael Cadwell, says he's the son of Councillor Cadwell, the
Deputy M..."

"We're running a name check but..."

Cryer glanced towards Cathy Marshall and gained a frustrated head
shake.

"...it looks as if PNC's gone down so it might take some time."

"It picks its moments. Let me have the info as soon as it comes
through, Bob. I'll go and see if the man will talk to me; find out
what he wants."

********************

Monroe stared placidly across the table at the younger man, hiding
the desperate mental search for another name to fit the familiar
yet unfamiliar face opposite him. Neither had spoken for what
seemed an eternity although it had probably been only three
minutes but he used the time to study Cadwell. The man was in his
late twenties with a shock of wavy brown hair and intense pale
blue eyes that were hard, like chips of ice; so different from the
warm, caring eyes of Jack Meadows. Monroe pushed that thought
aside before it overtook him, an action he had been forced to take
more and more frequently over the passed few weeks but never
before with so much at stake. He needed to keep his wits about him
as, from the man's demeanor, Monroe knew this was more than just
an act of desperation for freeing some drunk from the Sun Hill
cells.

"I know what you're thinking, Inspector Monroe. Does he want me
for some reason - or am I just the poor sod who happened to be
most senior officer here tonight."

Andrew Monroe displayed no flicker of emotion even though the man
was right. He had been wondering whether his presence here was
deliberate or just bad luck. Something about the man was strangely
familiar yet he could not place anything about him except perhaps
the accent. It was not Brummie; closer to Monroe's home town than
that but more of an East Midlands dialect. This caused him some
concern as he had started his Police career on the beat in Leeds.
Whatever the answer, Monroe had a feeling this man was not going
to reveal anything outright. He was trying, so far unsuccessfully,
to unnerve his hostage; to force domination over the other that
extended beyond the gun held nonchalantly in his hand. He kept his
voice calm and reasonable as he questioned the other.

"What do you want from me? I assume you have some demands to make?
Your brother, perhaps?"

Cadwell laughed harshly.

"I'm an only child."

"Then must I also assume that Michael Cadwell is a false name?"

The man smiled enigmatically.

"But you can call me Michael and I'll call you.....Andrew. That
*is* your name, isn't it? Andrew."

"You have the advantage."

"Yes."

"You still haven't answered my question. What do you want?"

"Oh, I've got what I want....Andrew."

Andrew Monroe felt a feeling of dread pass through him. So, maybe
it was personal but he knew he would have to wait as his captor
fed him one tiny clue after another. Cadwell wanted to play with
his captive, to bask in the power he held over the other man. At
this point Monroe had no idea what grievance this man had with him
but he knew he had played fair throughout his career in the Police
force, unlike others he could mention. That brought back memories
of ACC Singleton and, never far behind, came remembrance of those
few short hours with Jack Meadows. Monroe quickly pushed aside the
erotic image of Jack's pleasure-filled face as he came deep inside
Monroe's body before it could betray him but the inquisitive smile
proved the other had caught something from his expression and
misinterpreted the quickly veiled emotion that had crept into his
eyes and darkened his cheeks.

"Is that what you think? That I want you? Must admit that it
hadn't occurred to me before but no, I've got other plans for us."

Monroe's expression hardened, well aware that he had just lost the
first round to Cadwell.

********************

DCI Jack Meadows put out a hand to halt Ackland as she strode
passed him like a woman on a mission.

"What's going on, June? I noticed the Gun squad taking up position
outside. So, where's Mr. Brownlow?"

June Ackland had just left the Conference Room to get coffee but
she pointed back along the corridor towards the newly set-up
Incident Room and watched as Meadows strode purposefully away in
the direction indicated. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply,
wishing she had found the courage to warn him, suddenly aware of
how he might react when he discovered who the hostage was. Not for
the first time did she wish she had never found out about
Operation 'Other Half' but what she could not forgive herself for
was her betrayal of their trust.

Bob Cryer had entrusted her with the video just in case Singleton
should try some underhand method of getting hold of it and Bob had
asked her not to watch it. However, she had found the whole
concept of Meadows and Monroe in some hotel irresistible and had
commandeered the Sun Hill video room for a quick viewing. Bob had
been right. They had lost control and simulated sex had turned to
real sex and then to making love. There was a difference and she
had been awed by the strong emotions and uninhibited behaviour
displayed by two men who had always seemed so distant with each
other - until then.

It had required a great deal of strength to hide how much she knew
even though they were aware of her superficial knowledge; Bob
Cryer had told them about her involvement in the operation. To be
honest, the worst part was her undeniable wish that she could have
taken a copy to keep for herself. She had seen Gay porn movies in
the past, what Police woman had not, but there had been something
much more erotic in the way Meadows and Monroe had made love to
each other, the naked desire so obvious as they touched that was
never apparent on the faces of the athletic young men as they
grunted their way to a fake climax.

"Day dreaming, Constable?"

June Ackland paled in horror when she realised Alistair Grieg was
standing right in front of her - and had been there for more than
a few seconds, enough time for curiosity to rise into his eyes.

"Just concerned about Mr Meadows. I thought you were trying to
negotiate with the man?"

Grieg smiled grimly but decided not to ask why her concern for
Meadows should be greater than her concern for Monroe. After all,
it was Monroe who was in danger. Her remark only increased his
suspicion that there was something going on between the two men
but he also knew he had to put aside his suspicions for another
time. Brownlow had ordered him to report to the Incident Room and
he did not want to stay away from Interview Room 2 for longer than
was necessary even though he had left a more than capable
negotiator from SO19 behind in his place.

********************

Cadwell grimaced as a muffled voice began it's litany over again.
The voice was different but the words were the same; an entreaty
to let them know everything was alright. They wanted to see, or at
least hear from Inspector Monroe. He could barely make out the
words through the solid wood but that wasn't important; he had
nothing to say to them. The Interview Room had been built to keep
the sounds of the outside world at bay allowing nothing to
distract either Interviewer or Interviewee. Cadwell glanced around
the barren interior, taking note of any entry points. He spotted
the cassette player standing on top of a second smaller table, a
couple of tapes lying beside it still sealed in their cellophane
wrappers. There were four chairs in the room, the three around the
table and another in the corner behind him, conveniently placed so
the interviewee would forget the presence of its occupant. The
window looked as if it needed a new frame; the dents from a
previous incident still apparent in the soft wood.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"No. I'm sorry. I don't remember you."

Monroe didn't bother to lie for it was obvious he had little
recollection of the other man besides the nagging feeling that
they had met before. His face remained neutral and he had sense
enough not to back-talk. He'd seen the result of wise-cracks from
hostages; broken bones, split lips and, worse still, a bullet
through the skull. So far there was no evidence that this man was
anything other than someone he had pulled in during his career;
someone who held a grudge against him for doing his job.

"My brother knew you."

Monroe could not prevent the momentary confusion from jumping into
his eyes. Hadn't Cadwell already insisted that he was an only
child? This cast yet another dark reflection upon the other man.
The Inspector shifted uncomfortably in his seat but froze as
Cadwell gripped the gun tighter.

"Are you married?"

"Yes."

"Shame to make the little woman a little widow."

<Merry Widow> Monroe's eyes widened in shock as the thought crept
across his mind. Is that what he truly felt? Would she be pleased
to see the back of him?

He had tried to talk to her last week but she had dismissed him as
if he were a stranger in his own home. Often they would spend an
entire evening without a single word passing between them.
Suddenly, Monroe realised that the increased distance between them
had started about the same time her latest lover came on the
scene. He remembered the despondent stares across the lounge,
almost hearing her thoughts as she wished either of them were
somewhere else. Had his harsh life and his struggle to secure a
better future for both himself and his family made him so
insensitive to them all? Perhaps she wanted to be free but was
chained by that same illusion of comfort. Would her life be better
if he was not there?

His thoughts twisted in a new direction. Until a few weeks ago he
had believed he was incapable of taking or receiving pleasure from
anyone. Now he began to wonder whether she felt the Earth move
every time she stole a few hours of passion with her lover - but
if she had then how could she have allowed the sham of their
marriage to continue? A bitter thought crossed his mind; she could
for the sake of the Girls. But what was more tragic; her self
denial and sacrifice or his ignorance? Well, Jack Meadows had
opened his eyes to the truth and even if there should never be
another shared experience with Jack, suddenly Andrew Monroe
realised he could no longer live a lie.

********************

Jack Meadows pushed open the Incident Room door half expecting to
find Andrew Monroe using that decisive mind of his to organise the
others but his intense gaze was met by Brownlow and Chief
Inspector Cato. A unpleasant sensation twisted in his stomach as
he searched for the one man he knew should be the Incident Room -
but was not.

"What's going on, Sir?"

"Sgt. Cryer can fill you in on the details but no-one has heard a
peep from inside that room since the whole mess began. Your man
Grieg has been trying to gain some response for the past fifteen
minutes. Ah, Alistair, come in."

Meadows gave his junior officer a nod of recognition and then,
licking suddenly dry lips he prepared himself for the worst as he
turned towards Cryer. He knew his fears were to be realised just
by reading the man's compassionate expression yet still he needed
to hear the words.

"Who's the hostage?"

"Inspector Monroe."

The colour bled from his face but Meadows forced himself back
under control, not wanting to reveal his true depth of feeling for
Monroe to the other officers present in the room. Andrew needed
him so he had to remain calm and professional.

"What do we know about this man?"

"He stormed into the Front Office about half an hour ago demanding
to see the most Senior Officer. Said he and his brother had been
having a quiet drink at their local when a fight broke out among
some of the visiting Millwall supporters. He said our lads waded
in and pulled out his brother who had only got up to avoid having
a glass smashed into his face. Hollis told him he would look into
it but the man accused us of unlawful detention. Said his father
was on the Council and one call would be all that was needed. I
checked the Custody Records and the name Cadwell did appear
amongst them."

"Councillor Anthony Cadwell is the Deputy Mayor."

Meadows nodded at Cato; he knew the name. Cadwell and Sun Hill had
never seen eye to eye over Community Control but Meadows realised
there was more to come. He faced Cato, trying to keep his words
matter of fact in case the Chief Inspector took offense at the
implication that he was not doing his job properly. He was well
aware that there was no love lost between the two of them although
Meadows was careful not to make it obvious to anyone. As far as he
was concerned Frank Burnside's description of Cato as 'the bald-
headed bastard from Barton Street' was spot on. Cato was an
ambitious boot-licker of the worst kind. He had already garnered
Brownlow's contempt by instituting a search of all the men's
lockers on the orders of ACC Singleton, and without Brownlow's
consent. Singleton had only one objective through that search; to
find the incriminating video of Meadows and Monroe that was being
held by Bob Cryer.

"I suppose you called Councillor Cadwell."

"Under the circumstances it seemed to be the obvious course of
action."

"And...?"

"Cadwell has only one son and he is in the cells."

********************

Monroe had recognised the muffled voice of Alistair Grieg at the
beginning and, initially, was pleased the younger DS was still
around. If anyone could get through to Cadwell then Grieg was that
man. However, he had noticed increased agitation in his captor as
time passed by. Cadwell had seemed quite capable of ignoring the
constant litany but gradually he had started to grow annoyed with
the continuous requests for information. Only a few moments
earlier he had slammed his fist down on the table in irritation as
the new voice tried a different tactic to elicit some response
from inside the room. Although Monroe knew Grieg and the new
unknown negotiator were wearing the man down he was suddenly very
concerned by the abrupt display of temper. Michael Cadwell wanted
something - or wanted to do something - but he was being held back
by his own personal demons. The younger man looked up at his
hostage, the anguish in his eyes all too revealing of his inner
torment. Monroe watched the thin lips clamp hard together as if
trying to halt the flow of the man's thoughts and decided it was
time to add some advice of his own.

"You will have to speak to them sometime if you want them to
stop."

"Are you telling me what to do?"

"I was just pointing out that we can't sit here forever."

"DON'T tell me what to do."

"Perhaps we could talk about your brother? I'm sure..."

The face before him twisted in murderous fury.

"What do you know about my brother? You're just trying to screw
around with my mind. Just like them - and him outside...."

Monroe pulled back as Cadwell stormed to his feet, the chair
crashing backwards onto the floor behind him. Cadwell waved the
gun inches from Monroe's face, his hand shaking in rage as he
leant in closer.

"Don't you ever talk about my brother, Filth."

"I'm sorry. I won't say anything....."

Monroe had raised his hands placatingly but barely had time to
react as the gun smashed into the side of his face. The blow,
delivered with the strength of a madman, toppled him from his
chair and he lay still on the floor, in stunned disbelief, his
cheek pressed against the cool linoleum as he waited for his
vision to clear. The iron taste of blood filled his mouth and he
shuddered as the pain came crashing down.

"Now look what you made me do? I want you to be my friend. I
*need* you. I have such plans for us."

The gently pleading voice seemed at total odds with his last sight
and Monroe realised Cadwell must be bordering on the psychotic.
With bleary vision he watched as the younger man moved around the
table, righted the chair and nudged the prone figure with his
foot.

"Cummon, get up. I said, get up."

Through the haze of pain Monroe recognised the growing instability
in the voice and pushed himself onto his knees. Using the table
for support, he dragged himself back onto the seat allowing his
hands to rest on top of his thighs. He did not dare meet the
other's gaze until he had schooled his damaged features back into
some semblance of a normal controlled expression, realising he
could not afford to antagonise this man again. He fought to
contain the slight tremble that ran through him.

//Jack, where are you?//

********************

Meadows looked pointedly at Cato who seemed to have taken control
of the Incident Room while Brownlow looked on.

"Have you questioned David Cadwell about this man?"

"I hardly believe that would be appropriate. Anthony Cadwell would
never approve of his son being involved in any of this..."

"Have you considered how this man could have known David Cadwell
had been arrested - and the circumstances behind his arrest?"

Brownlow narrowed his eyes. In the heat of the moment he had not
made the connection between the two and was surprised Cato had
missed this clue as well. His opinion of Philip Cato plummeted
even further as the Chief Inspector acknowledged that he had
considered it yet still he continued to argue the lack of
necessity. Brownlow decided to put an end to the debate.

"Bob, bring David Cadwell to the DCI's office. Jack, I want you
and DS Lines to handle the interrogation."

"And what about Anthony Cadwell?"

Brownlow glared at Cato in undisguised disgust, suddenly aware of
how little he liked and trusted this man. He made a mental note to
get Cato transferred out at the earliest opportunity.

"What Councillor Cadwell thinks is irrelevant. His son could hold
a vital clue to the identity and motives of this man and that
justifies our questioning him."

Meadows glanced over at Cato as the Chief Superintendent huffed
his disapproval and turned away to question Grieg about progress
so far, grateful that, unlike Cato, Brownlow still placed the
lives of his men above his own political aspirations.

********************

The man's dispassionate eyes narrowed as he surveyed the damage he
had inflicted upon the other. The skin around Monroe's right eye
had already started to puff up, turning a mixture of red and
purple as a massive bruise formed. A small amount of blood had run
down the side of his face where the skin had split over the
fractured cheek bone. Cadwell moved slowly around the table until
he stood behind his injured hostage, smiling as the Inspector's
shoulders stiffened in apprehension - or fear. He wanted Monroe to
be afraid and stood quietly behind his prisoner for a moment
longer, basking in the power he wielded over the other. A glint of
metal caught his eye, broadening his smile. Cadwell reached for
the handcuffs attached to Monroe's belt and placed them onto the
table in front of the Inspector before returning to his own seat.

"Put them on."

Monroe stared at the handcuffs for a moment before taking them up,
wondering what new twist Cadwell was going to add to the game.
Whatever it was, if he wanted to get out of there alive then he
really had no choice but to play along. Monroe snapped one side
around his left wrist then moved to attach the other, half
expecting the man to reach over and drag him towards the radiator
where he could be shackled more securely but Cadwell made no move
to prevent him from closing the remaining half around his other
wrist. Instead the younger man pulled a dirty white handkerchief
from his pocket, spat into it and then reached across to daub at
the congealing blood.

The murderous rage seemed to have died away as if it had never
happened leaving an almost pleasant and considerate person behind
in its wake. Monroe tried not to wince as the strangely gentle
gesture only added to his pain and discomfit.

"You shouldn't get me angry....but your type always do. Supposed
to be a public servant but always pushing, shoving, ordering
people around, telling them what they should do, where they should
go. Well, I know where I want to go. I'm going there real
soon.....and I'm taking you with me....to show me the way but it's
gotta be done just right."

********************

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