What Breaks A Detective.

Chapter 12

Smart, Isabel, Rosamund and Newham, after assuring Newham multiple times that Rosie was, in fact, Rosie and not Allie, let themselves in to the back of the code red meeting, where it was in full swing. Barnes was in the chair, in a room that looked suspiciously like a courtroom, all panelled in darkish wood, floor, stands and seats, which were full of people, with a thin line of creamy wallpaper running around the tops. Already, Barnes was looking rather red-faced, and Arthman was looking dejected beside him.

"Can I help, Barnes?" Smart asked smoothly, hopping up into the centre space and placing the letter onto the desk there.

"Is that the letter?" Barnes asked tiredly. Smart nodded, looking around the room at a sea of rather hostile faces.

"I sense this isn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped" he commented dryly.

He was right. They must have argued for hours, from the big logistical problems over to the pettiest of things, and by the end it was beginning to wear Smart down a little. Arthman was there though, always there to save his back, and so, surprisingly, was Newham. Rosamund too, jumped up after a little while, and shrieked herself hoarse for a good five or ten minutes before anyone dared to interrupt her. Then Fisher also stood up, from his place in the corner, to defend them also, and then Barnes chipped in finally from the chair. It seemed, then, four hours later, when Isabel stood up and demanded that they all have something to eat, as 'Detective Inspector Smart is going to collapse from fatigue if he doesn't get some hot food down him!' that they were all pretty much decided. They were going to the docks that night.

Smart sagged onto a chair as a plate of hot stew was dumped in his hands. He wasn't quite up to speed. Newham and Arthman came to join him at the table in the dinner hall, and faint smiles flew around.

"Good job, all" Arthman commented, with a mouthful of stew.

Smart raised his spoon in agreement, before wolfing down another mouthful, feeling the heat radiate down his throat and rejuvenate him.

Newham sent a brief smile his way.

"Good fight, Sherlock" he praised. "I didn't think you had it in that lanky frame of yours."

"Well" Smart admitted, with a sigh. "I hate to say that I couldn't do it without you, Watson. And our American friend, of course."

They shared another smile. It was amazing, Smart thought, how arguing on the same side for a little while could draw people together. He had to say, he rather liked not having Newham making snide remarks at him all the time.

"Tonight should be fun" Arthman commented dryly. "The bigwigs are giving out sections to all of us. We're taking three boats upriver, and two double sections in each boat. If Allie's right, we should have the lot of them surrounded easy peasy."

"If Allie's right" Smart reiterated.

"You're thinking about something" Newham pointed out suddenly, looking sidelong at Smart. "What's on your mind?"

"A piece of dirty glass, with reality on the other side" Smart replied philosophically. "And I'm beginning to clean off the dirt, so to speak."

"You know where Allie is?" Arthman cut in keenly, wolfing down the remainder of his dinner.

"Not yet" Smart admitted, rolling his tongue around his teeth and wishing his bowl was full again. "But I'm beginning to get some sort of idea."

As he spoke, Rosamund happened to be passing, but she sat down instantly with a bump next to Smart as she heard what he had said.

"What happens if she doesn't want to be found?" she asked him. "What happens if she's not safe where she is? Trying to find her could put her in more danger. You could lead that R.M. Stephenson person straight to her."