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and Laver turned to the politician. ‘Mr Strickland, are you confident that, with these measures, the government’s media smokescreeners can now distance the political cowards up at Spring Street from the whole police shootings crisis and land it instead on the heads of poor bastards like myself, trying to survive in sometimes extreme situations?’
    Strickland took a long look at Laver, smirked and said, ‘Yes, I’m very sure we can. Thank you for caring, Senior Constable.’ He put an edge on the rank as he spoke.
    You prick, thought Laver. But he shut up.
    ‘Stay there,’ growled Broadbent in Laver’s direction, in what sounded a lot like an order. Broadbent showed Strickland out, murmuring, ‘Thank you, Jeffrey, sorry business. I’ll be in touch,’ as the pair headed towards the lifts.
    Through it all, Brunton hadn’t said a word – just sat there, swinging his foot.
    ‘Why exactly are you here?’ Laver finally asked him.
    ‘ Sir ,’ corrected Brunton. ‘Remember your rank, Constable.’
    ‘ Senior Constable, sir. Why are you here?’
    ‘Just taking an interest.’
    Brunton got to his feet, looked steadily at Laver and left the room.
    Broadbent came back, closed the door and sat behind his desk. He opened the top drawer and placed the recorder in it.
    ‘Merry Christmas, Rocket.’
    ‘Shit, Neil. I can’t even begin to tell you how fucked up this is.’
    ‘What else could I do?’ Broadbent replied wearily. ‘It was a major win to keep you on full pay. The premier’s office wanted you on bread and water. Maybe.’
    ‘Fucking politicians.’
    ‘One thing about Spring Street: when they decide to find a scapegoat, they don’t muck around.’
    ‘Who’s that slimy Strickland guy?’ Rocket asked, jerking his head towards the door.
    ‘A cop, believe it or not.’
    ‘Shut the fucking door. No way.’ Rocket sat up straighter.
    ‘Yeah, he was pushing for assistant commissioner status in Perth but then jumped sideways to play with the pollies over here. Never explained why he moved states all of a sudden. Must think he has a future in Canberra.’
    ‘That explains a lot.’ Laver stood and walked to the window. ‘When’s the inquiry?’
    ‘Six weeks maybe … depending on when people are available. The Christmas holidays will hold it back once the schools break up. Whatever the finding, the timing of the announcement will be vital too, given the other inquiries already running.’
    ‘Whatever the finding?’
    Broadbent didn’t say anything. Laver turned back from the window.
    ‘Neil, that sounded a lot like there was the possibility of more than one finding. The fucker fired at me first, remember?’
    Broadbent rubbed his neck, exposing a sweat-patch fanning from under the armpit of his shirt.
    ‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’
    Laver gave him a long look. ‘This is going to be okay, isn’t it, boss?’
    ‘Look Rocket, it should be, all right? What else can I say but that? Yes, all the evidence suggests you acted properly and in accordance with police regulations regarding handguns and self-defence. Every cop there swore you were probably too slow to fire, if anything. But the fact is you were the sixth Victorian cop to shoot someone stone motherless dead within a fourmonth period. One of whom was a fifteen-year-old kid with a kitchen knife, if you cast your mind back. You know and I know that the police force exists within a depressingly political world, especially here in Victoria where we have a reputation for being trigger happy – rightly or wrongly.’
    Laver opened his mouth, but Broadbent’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, said, ‘When? Okay. Media Liaison in ten minutes. Thanks Linda,’ and hung up. ‘The seagulls are on their way already, looking for morsels. Strickland is fast on a mobile phone.’
    ‘Or Brunton,’ said Laver, sitting back down. ‘What was he doing here?’
    ‘Happened to stop by just beforehand and said he might as well stay for the show. Us assistant