Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

theatrically. ‘I don’t see Dr Hill here.’
    ‘His letter authorises Ms Jordan here to access the information on his behalf.’
    ‘He can’t do that. It’s a data protection issue.’
    Maggie shook her head. ‘I’ve redacted everything that could identify patients or other staff.’
    ‘I’m not prepared to release any of our records to a third party, however redacted they are. She’s not a police officer any more, you know. She’s here under false pretences.’
    ‘No, she’s not, she told me that.’
    Hart’s crocodile smile crept across his face. ‘She didn’t tell the gatehouse staff or reception. She used police ID to bypass our security.’
    Carol shrugged. ‘I needed photo ID. That was all I had. I never said I was a serving police officer.’
    Two stripes of scarlet appeared on his cheeks, as if a child had drawn on his face with lipstick. ‘Don’t split hairs with me, Miss Jordan. I’d like you to leave now.’ He was wholly focused on her, but beyond him, Carol could see Maggie’s fingers move stealthily on the keyboard.
    ‘Not without what I came for. It’s completely uncontroversial. We could easily get a court order.’ Carol wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
    ‘Get one, then.’ He threw the door open. ‘Maggie, show Miss Jordan out, would you?’
    ‘No point in making a fuss,’ Maggie said, taking Carol’s elbow and steering her to the door. Hart watched them leave, then, as Maggie opened the first locked door, he turned and marched off in the opposite direction. Maggie looked after him and smirked. ‘I figured something as menial as seeing you off the premises would be beneath him. He is the absolute antithesis of a class act. I don’t know how Tony puts up with him. I don’t know how I do, come to that.’
    As she talked, she led the way towards reception. But just before they emerged into the foyer, she turned abruptly into another office. A young man in a nurse’s tunic sat at a desk, working on a spreadsheet. He looked up when they walked in and grinned. ‘You owe me a drink.’ He leaned across the desk and picked up a few sheets of paper from the printer tray.
    ‘Thanks, Stephen.’ Maggie accepted the papers and handed them to Carol. ‘There you are. Tuck them away so the snitches on reception can’t see them. Now it really is time to go, Carol.’
    ‘Thanks. Nice move,’ Carol said as she followed Maggie into the corridor. ‘I have the impression you’ve done that before.’
    ‘We look after each other here,’ Maggie said. ‘Aidan only looks after number one. Tell Tony, chin up.’
    On her way out, Carol made a point of glaring at the receptionists. Anything else would have looked suspicious. She didn’t so much as glance at the papers until she was out of sight of the security guards on the front gate. Then she pulled in to the first woodland track she came to for a read. It wasn’t easy to make sense of the redacted reports, but when she compared them with the dates Nadia Wilkowa had been in Bradfield Moor, one thing rapidly became clear.
    Tony had been treated for a nosebleed following an incident with a patient on a day when Nadia Wilkowa had been there. ‘You fucking beauty,’ Carol said, kissing the sheet of paper. The first piece of evidence against Tony had been perfectly undermined.

60

    T he absence of their bosses didn’t let the workers at Tellit Communications off the hook. They knew their computers recorded every detail of their working lives. Their keystrokes were counted, their phone calls timed, their absences from either form of communication logged and monitored. The workers were so wrapped up in what they were paid to do that they barely looked around them. So Rob Morrison had been in his office for a good twenty minutes before Gareth Taylor appeared in his doorway.
    ‘Marie Mather’s husband phoned earlier,’ he said. ‘I was the only one in, so I picked up the call. Apparently she’s been taken to hospital with a suspected burst appendix.’
    Rob winced. ‘That sounds painful. Did he say how long she’d be off?’
    Gareth shook his head. ‘He said he’d phone again when he had a better idea of the prognosis, but not to expect her in for the rest of the week. He sounded fucking terrified,’ he added with a sneer.
    ‘That’s not a great start to a new job,’ Rob said.
    ‘I don’t suppose she planned it.’ Gareth pushed off from the door jamb and turned back to the busy room. Unobserved, Rob gave a