The Bullet That Missed полностью

‘You always looked terribly old,’ says Elizabeth.

Viktor laughs. ‘I did! Always! Finally I am old. Finally I make sense. Now, I think you are Joyce Meadowcroft?’

Joyce reaches out a hand, but Viktor kisses her on each cheek.

‘Lovely to meet you, Viktor,’ says Joyce. ‘Do you know they kiss three times in Belgium? I only found that out recently.’

Viktor smiles, and takes her elbow.

‘Please, come with me and sit. It is too cold to sit outside, but we can enjoy the view. I hope you like grey clouds and red buses?’

Viktor leads Joyce over to a sunken sofa which, hypothetically, looks out over a huge vista of London. The grey clouds obscure most of the view today. The only things near enough to be made out are the building sites of Battersea Power Station, as a whole new swathe of London takes shape on the banks of the river. Elizabeth follows behind them.

‘Joyce,’ says Viktor. ‘I think you would like a gin and tonic? That’s what I think. Tell me if I’m right?’

‘You’re right!’ says Joyce.

‘Then that’s what we will have. I am so happy to have you both here. Elizabeth, you will join us?’

‘Sit down, Viktor,’ says Elizabeth.

‘I will, I will,’ says Viktor. ‘Come on, I’m excited. Let me make the drinks, then we can sit and talk. Two old spies. We can make Joyce’s hair curl with our tales!’

‘Sit down, Viktor,’ says Elizabeth again, her gun now in her hand.

‘I speak, then you speak,’ says the producer. He is called Carwyn Price, and DCI Chris Hudson has been left in no doubt of that, because Carwyn Price likes to refer to Carwyn Price in the third person. ‘I speak, you speak; I speak, you speak; I speak, you speak.’

‘Got it,’ says Chris.

‘I speak, you speak, that’s my only rule. That’s the Carwyn Price rule,’ says Carwyn Price.

‘Do I look at the camera?’ asks Chris.

‘No, look at me, that’s the other rule,’ says Carwyn. ‘Unless you’re making an appeal, “Have you seen this man?”, that sort of thing. You can do that down the barrel.’

‘Down the barrel?’

‘Straight into the lens,’ says Carwyn. ‘That’s what we call it in news.’

‘Down the barrel means something very different in the police force,’ says Chris.

Carwyn is wearing a woollen beanie hat indoors. Donna will have an opinion on that. Donna is watching from a chair at the side of the small South East Tonight studio. When Chris had received the call, come and screen-test, the guy on the phone had said, ‘Let’s see if Carwyn Price likes you.’ ‘Who’s Carwyn Price?’ Chris had asked, and the guy on the phone had said, ‘I am.’

‘OK, I’m going to shoot a few questions,’ says Carwyn. ‘You zing back with a few answers, and we’ll find out if the camera loves you.’

‘Good luck,’ calls Donna, from the side of the studio.

‘Quiet on set,’ says Carwyn. ‘We’re not in a zoo.’

Why had he agreed to this, Chris wonders, a little too late now of course. His mouth is drier than he had imagined possible. It’s like he has just woken from a fitful sleep on a long-haul flight.

‘I’m joined by Detective Sergeant Chris –’

‘Detective Chief Inspector,’ says Chris with difficulty.

‘Don’t ever interrupt,’ says Carwyn. ‘I speak, you speak.’

‘Sorry,’ says Chris. ‘I just thought, you know, for accuracy.’

‘On live TV?’ says Carwyn. ‘That’s what you thought, was it? If I put you on my show, this is what I get? You piping up every five seconds?’

‘We’re not on live TV though,’ says Chris. ‘I promise I wouldn’t do it if we were.’

Carwyn mutters ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath. This seems to be going badly. Chris realizes he needs the loo too. How can he need the loo when his mouth feels so dry? He looks over at Donna. She gives him a thumbs-up, but it lacks conviction.

‘I’m joined by Detective Chief Inspector Chris Hudson, of Kent Police,’ says Carwyn, not even looking up now. ‘Detective Inspector, robberies are up, violent crime is up, surely the people of Kent deserve better than this?’

‘That’s a very fair question, Mike, I think –’

‘Mike?’ says Carwyn. Which feels like an interruption, but Chris thinks it best to let it go.

‘Yes, I thought you were being Mike Waghorn,’ says Chris. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’m Carwyn Price, mate,’ says Carwyn. ‘So I’m being Carwyn Price.’

‘Sorry,’ says Chris again. ‘I just thought you were the producer, so –’

‘So I don’t exist?’ says Carwyn. ‘Because you haven’t seen me on TV?’

‘No, I just …’ Chris looks over at Donna again, but she is pretending to look at her phone. ‘Sorry, I haven’t done this before.’

‘That’s coming across,’ says Carwyn. ‘I’m doing this as a favour to Mike, you understand that? I’m missing ju-jitsu for this.’

Chris nods. ‘Sorry. Of course.’

To his surprise, Chris realizes at this point that, actually, he really would like to be on television. He doesn’t like Carwyn, sure, with his hat, and the chips on his shoulders, but he likes being in this studio, likes the camera pointed at him. It’s quite a surprise for a man who would have avoided a mirror a few months ago. He sees Carwyn puff out his cheeks. Last chance, Chris, let’s nail this.