Dial 9 - Chapter 1

"Hello this is DCI Mitchel, can I speak to Mr Corrigan Please?’ the voice on the phone is dry, bored, with that end of shift and wanting to go home feeling about it.

‘Sorry, he's not here at the moment. This is Ian the assistant manager, can I help?'. Ian couldn't say where David Corrigan was anyway, he didn't show up for work a month ago and has not been in touch since. Ian picks up a pen and drags a piece of scrap paper from the bottom of an overflowing paper tray. He holds the pen poised for action, but does nothing. He nods to himself occasionally, and makes 'um-hum' noises into the phone every few seconds to show he is listening.

Ian's eyes wander across his desk. To an untrained eye it would look chaotic, but in the nest of papers surrounding his keyboard, Ian could find anything he needs in a matter of moments. Scattered among them are a few personal effects, a coffee cup, empty, with a Welsh Dragon on the side, a bowl of peanuts, an dented brass tobacco tin with a yin and yang symbol embossed on the lid, next to it a not quite matching lighter.

'Um-hum', as his eyes meander onward towards the window,  - and meander over to the window, passing a cork board filled with overlapping notices. . One instructs people on the correct phrases to use when answering the phone. It has been there a very long time, the paper is now a smudged grey, and the tape holding it up is yellow and curled. The card also reminds staff never to tell the caller where people are if they are not in work. There must be a reason for this, although Ian has never asked. Perhaps someone was tracked down by an abusive partner once. Who knows.

The card has fragments of handwriting on it, inserted in corners and between lines, by different hands and in different colours of ink. Phone numbers people have jotted down when there was no paper handy.  Ian’s eyes play across the numbers written on the card as he listens to the policeman on the phone. If he had to Ian could reproduce these numbers, even the way they were scattered across the page. That's the way his mind works. The numbers are mainly four digit phone extensions. The number 3119 is scribbled in fading purple ink across one corner. Ian recognises it as a circular prime, and a half smile plays at the corner of his mouth, as it often does when he sees it. A circular prime is a number which, when each digit is cycled, produces another prime. 3119, 1193, 1931, 9311.. all prime. Ian thinks circular primes are cute, and the purple suits them.

Opposite Ian sits Millie, tapping a pen against the edge of her desk with poorly restrained irritation. Their desks are the only two in a very small office. Pushed against each other in the middle of the room, their computers fill the centre line of the two desks, side by side for efficient use of space. Although they are both tall, Millie needs to stretch to see over the top of the monitors.  She wishes Ian would get off the phone and tell her what is going on. She's the senior on duty today, and should be in charge. It's Ian's day off. It's Sunday. He just came into catch up on some paperwork, and should be going home.

Ian eventually gives his email address to the voice on the phone and hangs up. He hadn't written anything down. He looks across to Millie, still looking distracted and slightly vacant. Millie raises an eyebrow in return, 'Well..?' she thrusts out her chin in exaggerated impatience, trying to get Ian's attention.

‘That was the police, we have another emergency admission coming in tonight’, Ian realises he's been blocking her out again, 'Sorry, should have passed it over to you'

'That's OK', Millie relaxes her posture. She does not want Ian to feel bad. She's not angry at him, she likes him and he's a good boss. He just looks tired, and she's sure he's been loosing weight. 'Did they say anything else?'

'You know', Ian moves his chair sideways so they can see each other without craning their necks, 'He didn't say one useful thing'.

'Come on' Millie says, 'You were on the phone for 5 minutes, he must have said something'