That’s all.’ ‘So, what?’ Holland said. ‘I just stroll out, do I?’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Nip down there on my lunch break and pretend I got lost on my way to the canteen?’ ‘You’ll think of something,’ Thorne said. ‘Right.’ ‘Maybe you can say you were visiting a source.’ Thorne waited, listened to Holland breathing on the other end of the phone. He pictured the space Holland was in, one he knew well. He imagined him at his desk in the Incident Room, head down, keen to avoid eye contact with anyone during a conversation he almost certainly should not be having. Holland had known as soon as he’d answered the phone. Thorne had heard it in his tentative greeting, the nervousness as his voice had dropped to a whisper, the pause before the inevitable question. What can I do for you? ‘What about afterwards?’ Holland asked. ‘I don’t know,’ Thorne said. ‘Good to know you’re thinking ahead.’ ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ ‘It’s the we that’s worrying me.’ ‘Come on, Dave…’ Thorne waited again.
