Dangerous Games

Chapter 7 part 2

It wasn't until the following Sunday morning that I saw Claire. She turned up at about eleven bearing gifts.

"Didn't get you out of bed, did I?" she asked, cheerfully.

"No, no. I've been up for a while. What's this?"

"A copy of those tapes, as promised. Take good care of it, hide it somewhere safe, and for pity's sake don't tell anyone you've got it."

"You can rely on me. I'm not likely to shoot my mouth off to all and sundry. Come on in. I'm about to make breakfast. Fancy something?"

"Apart from you, you mean?"

I smirked. "Apart from that. After all, I do owe you a breakfast."

"Yes, you do. I'll have whatever you're having."

"Careful! For all you know I might eat the most god-awful muck imaginable. Seriously, though, how does the idea of porridge grab you?"

"Sounds great. I'm starving."

"Okay then. We can talk while we're eating."

"Well, don't talk with your mouth full. Apart from that, good idea."

Actually, I was just planning on having cereal and toast, but I could hardly tell Claire that. Besides, I was particularly proud of my porridge – it's about the only thing I can really cook. Today I spiced it up with some cream from the fridge and a little dollop of strawberry jam on the top.

"There you go. That'll warm you up. Now then, any further thoughts on our ground-breaking discovery?"

"Firstly, thank you. Smells delicious. And secondly, yes I have. It seems we have only three possible courses of action." She put a mouthful of porridge in her mouth, then waved her hand furiously in front of her face. "Ah, hot, hot, hot!" Rather unceremoniously, she was forced to spit the mouthful out into the spoon again.

I ran to the tap and got her a glass of water, which she gulped willingly.

"Blow on it," I suggested. "It'll cool down soon enough. What are these options?"

"Option one. Forget the whole thing." Reading the grimace on my face, she continued. "Not very satisfying, I admit, but think about it. Revealing what we know to anyone, anyone at all, will result in our careers in the police service coming to an abrupt halt."

"True. Well, that's more of a problem for you rather than me. You can't have been in uniform for long, but look at me. I've been a constable for about a hundred and six years now. I'll probably retire a constable. Hardly a meteoric career. Do you fancy option one?"

"No, I don't. Not one little bit. I can't conceive of having this knowledge and not doing anything with it. I don't think I could ever live with myself, knowing that I'd squashed it, however high I rose through the ranks."

"Okay, then. Option number two?"

"We take this to Sugden. Give him the facts and let him decide what to do."

"He'd tell you to forget all about it. Take the evidence and make sure it was destroyed. None of this would ever see the light of day."

"Probably. That brings me to option three. Leak the whole thing to the press. We know they'd be interested. They'd jump at a story like this." She was now eating the porridge with great gusto. The advice to blow on it must have worked.

"It would also be career suicide. Never mind about ruining our promotion prospects. We'd be lucky to keep our jobs."

"I didn't say leak it publicly. God, no! Send copies to the press anonymously, then lie through our teeth and deny everything if Sugden accuses us."