A Box Full of Darkness (Wilson Book 5) by Fee Derek Read Free Book Online Page B

warrant your presence as my superior? I’ve been on the force for almost twenty years and it’s strange that we’ve never come across each other.’
    Sinclair rolled his eyes. ‘At the moment, there are more than 7,000 officers in the PSNI and God knows how many are retired. I don’t suppose that you’ve worked with most of them.’
    ‘No, you’re right. But I do know most of the officers involved in murder investigations.’
    ‘That’s not my background,’ Sinclair said. ‘Let’s leave it there.’ He picked up the phone and dialled. ‘ Sergeant Jackson, can you join us please.’ He put the phone down. ‘I know you’ve been running a squad but resources are thin here. I can only give you one man, Simon Jackson. He’s a good man.’
    There was a knock on the door.
    ‘Come in,’ Sinclair said.
    ‘Sir.’
    Wilson was aware that the conversation had been cut short. He turned to view his new partner. Jackson was in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was close cropped and steely grey. He was of medium height and build and had the round face associated with the descendants of the soldiers left behind by William of Orange. He had a protruding jaw and his eyes bulged from his fleshy face. His lips were full and no doubt the envy of many women of similar age. He was the diametric opposite in looks to Wilson’s former sergeant.
    ‘This is Detective Superintendent Wilson,’ Sinclair said. ‘Your new boss.’
    Wilson stood and proffered his hand, which Jackson took. ‘Please to meet you, sergeant.’
    ‘Sir.’ Jackson’s handshake was firm and he stood ramrod stiff.
    Again there was no message in the handshake and Wilson confirmed his impression that the staff of the task force was well informed concerning their new recruit.  The strength of the handshake and the stiffness of the bearing led him to conclude that Jackson was a former member of the military.
    ‘You’ve already left the file on the Superintendent’s desk?’ Sinclair asked.
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘OK, sergeant, you can go.’
    ‘Pleasure to have you with us, sir,’ Jackson said to Wilson.
    Why don’t you look particularly pleased? Wilson thought. ‘Thank you, sergeant,’ he replied. Wilson was a people-watcher and he had noticed a signal passing between his new colleagues. It was a slight movement of the yes but it was there. It was clear that they knew each other well. It was something he would have to keep in mind.
    Jackson left the room.
    ‘I think you’re the kind of man who can hit the ground running so I’ve asked Jackson to put the file relating to a shooting in Belfast in 1974 on your desk. Your office is two doors down. I don’t anticipate the task force lasting too long. I’m sure that HQ will find an appropriate job sooner or later for someone with your seniority. In the meantime, please remember the maxim that we’re here to serve the bereaved families.’
    ‘Understood,’ Wilson stood up . The office two doors down was the one with the metal desk and the crap chair. Welcome to Purgatory, maybe the beat in Crossmaglen would begin to look attractive as time went by.

CHAPTER NINE
     
     
     
    Wilson opened the door and looked around the small room. He smiled. Now he knew he’d been properly screwed. Jennings had prepared his revenge well. He took a closer look at his new surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished with a small metal filing cabinet against one wall, a dated metal desk on which a computer sat, the pre-ergonomic chair and one visitor’s chair. At least there was a single window that looked out onto the back wall of another building in the complex. If he ever got bored, he could find relief in counting the red brick on the wall just beyond his window. In the centre of the desk there was a small black box file he assumed contained the papers relating to the crime he was about to investigate. Royally screwed, he thought as he moved behind the desk. Jennings’ hand was undoubtedly there somewhere,