The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

Maggie smiled at Frost. 'We'll just caption you as a colleague in the article, unless you want to be named of course?'

It seemed that she did.

'I'm Assistant Chief Constable Katherine Frost of Greater Manchester Police. Do you need to write that down?'

'No, I'll remember,' Maggie replied, catching Jimmy's eye.

'Right then, let's do this thing,' Pollock said pleasantly. 'I expect we can find a quiet spot in the conference room. The do's not due to restart until quarter-to.'

They went through to the adjacent room, empty except for a few stragglers, and arranged three of the chairs in a circle of about two metres in diameter.

They're generally pretty relaxed for these kind of sessions, Yash had advised. They're expecting a pleasant half hour talking about how brilliant they are. Everybody likes that, don't they? That's the atmosphere you're looking to create. She decided to take his advice.

'I obviously did quite a bit of research before I wrote my outline,' she gushed, 'and I must confess, I didn't realise you were so young. You must be one of the youngest Chief Constables in the country, aren't you? At forty-four.'

'Forty-three actually. And yes, I actually am the youngest I believe, and the youngest ever of any force in Scotland.'

'That's amazing,' she said, nodding enthusiastically. 'By the way, I hope you don't mind if we publish your age in the article? It's the first thing our readers look for. Everyone's interested in that, aren't they?'

'No, go ahead, of course,' he said, making no attempt to hide his self-satisfaction.

Rustling through her handbag, she withdrew the folded magazine pages that Yash had given her, expertly mocked up by the Chronicle's graphics department. The puff piece.

'You saw this I'm guessing? Did you like it?'

'I liked the headline,' he said, smiling, 'although I'm not sure all of my colleagues would necessarily agree.' By his tone, she guessed that wouldn't concern him one bit.

'The rise of a policing superstar. New broom shakes up Scottish force. That pretty much sums up what you're all about, doesn't it?'

'Well I'm not so sure about the superstar thing,' he said, 'but let's just say since I moved to headquarters I've tried to put my stamp on things. More diversity, softening the culture and making it more customer-friendly.'

She wasn't sure whether the customers he was referring to were the members of the public or the villains who found themselves forced to enjoy Police Scotland's in-cell hospitality. But there was no getting away from the results he seemed to have achieved. In the two years of Pollock's tenure, the crime figure had been heading the right way across all categories, that was, downwards. Something that she obviously had to mention.

'So how much do you think the encouraging crime statistics are down to you personally?'

'One doesn't like to take too much credit of course,' he said, 'but one likes to think one has had some influence, yes.'

'Tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime, is that what it is?' Jimmy asked, evidently forgetting that it was the journalists who were supposed to ask the questions.

He smiled. 'Well, if you like, although the police don't have much influence on the latter I'm afraid. That's down to the politicians, and they generally make a pig's ear out of that, don't they?'

'But it must be something you're immensely proud of,' Maggie said. 'After all, I guess that's what policing is all about, isn't it? Bringing down crime, and you've done that brilliantly.'

Was she overdoing it a bit? She wasn't sure, but it seemed to be having the right effect.

'Yes, well that's what I've been able to share with my colleagues today,' he said, relaxing back in his chair. 'Not every force is doing so well as we are in Scotland, and as a result there's great interest in my methods, as you can imagine.'

It was slipped into the sentence with no great emphasis but Maggie noticed it nonetheless. My methods, not our methods. No wonder the rank and file thought he was an arse. She wondered what the celebrations would be like after Frank had brought him down.

'And how would you sum up these methods Sir Brian?' she asked.

'As I said, it's as much about changing the culture of the force as anything. More diversity in our ranks and policing for the people not against the people if you like.'

'Yes, I can see that,' she said, not understanding a word of what he'd said. But the more she got to know this guy, the more she sided with Frank's opinion of him. Sure, the crime figures had come down but that was probably just because Pollock had got lucky. And now pretty soon his luck was going to run out.

She saw him glance at his watch. 'How're we doing? The conference will be starting up again in ten minutes.'

'No that's great,' Maggie said. 'I think I've got nearly everything I need, and to be honest the piece will come out pretty much in line with the sample we sent you. There's just one last thing if you don't mind. It'll take two minutes, no more than that.'

'Sure, go ahead.'

Now it was time to go for it. Now or never. Light the blue touch-paper and retire fast.

Taking a deep breath she said, 'It's just my editor always likes a bit of light and shade in his articles, so I was just wondering... I mean you've had such a stellar career but I guess there must have been some things that didn't go quite so well? Is there anything in particular you can think of? Something that might merit a paragraph or two, just so I can keep the editor happy?'

She saw his expression harden, although he was trying to disguise it with a forced smile.

'Well no-one's perfect of course, but nothing specific springs to mind, no.'

It was exactly the response she had expected. Either he wanted to keep his skeletons well-hidden or he honestly did believe he was without fault. With an ego his size, it was difficult to