The detective sighed and sat down.
George looked at him expectantly.
"Ten minutes then, Mr Harrison. We really have so much to cover here," Myles said.
"Much obliged," George said sardonically and stood, following the receptionist out of the room.
"He's waiting for you in one of the vacant interview rooms," Mrs Robinson was explaining as they walked. "He wanted to wait in the reception but there's quite a crowd gathering now."
"Press?" George asked, ruefully.
Mrs Robinson nodded. "Well, they're staying outside, most of the time. But it's not every day we have such a celebrity here. And since your friend arrived... well, it's been utter chaos!"
"My friend?" George repeated, wondering how Michael Archer could cause such a fuss, but before Mrs Robinson could reply the explanation walked round the corner.
He looked calm, collected, organised and flawless. Just as he always did. And it infuriated George, who had been steadily feeling worse since the police had hammered on the front door that morning. He was flanked either side by uniformed policemen, both of them laughing and smiling, fawning all over him just like the fans, the journalists, the photographers... the women. Not that George was jealous. He was welcome to them.
George stopped. Mrs Robinson was still speaking but George wasn't listening. He hadn't even seen George yet. Too wrapped up in his own world again. Where everything is so bloody perfect.
"What are you doin' here?' George demanded loudly, in a threatening tone.
Paul looked up and their eyes met. He smiled weakly and skipped forward to draw level with him. Dressed in a smart black polo neck jumper, tailored trousers with shiny black leather shoes, and with never a hair out of place, that was Beatle Paul alright - but as he got closer George thought he could see a cut to Paul's bottom lip. "George!" he said overly jovial and reaching his hand out to touch George's shoulder. George stepped back so Paul missed him. Paul let his hand drop to his side. "Please, George. Come on, mate," he said, quietly.
George glared at him icily. "I'm not your mate," he hissed. "What are you doing here? You with him? Archer?"
"No," Paul said. "What's he doing here?"
"Who told you?"
Paul shrugged. "It's all over the news. There's a horde of press outside my house and police..."
"Did they bring you in too?"
"No, I thought I could come down here and..."
"Well, I don't want you here so you can piss off home," George cut him off.
"I can help..."
George pushed past him and stalked off down the corridor. The audience, the two policemen and the receptionist, watched in silent surprise, staring after George. Mrs Robinson came to her senses and hurried after him. Paul sighed and watched George leave. "George," he shouted after him. "I'm not going anywhere, George. I'll wait for you."
George didn't look back.
George opened the door to small police station interview room. Michael Archer, looking his usual weasel-like self stood up to meet him. He smiled. George didn't return it. "Where's Brian?" he demanded, shutting the door behind him.
"He"s predisposed, as well you know," Archer replied. "I'm here.'
"I don't want to see you. I want to see Brian," George said. Archer gestured for George to sit. George begrudgingly did so. "You've been avoiding me. I've rung the office at least three times."
"No, George, we haven't been avoiding you per se. It's just on a day like this... we have to prioritise whose calls we take. We've probably had more than..."
"And I'm not a priority?" George interrupted.
Archer cleared his throat and sat too. "No," he said calmly. "You're not."
"I think Brian would see that differently."
"Brian and I are united. But I'm here now, aren't I? As an act of goodwill, you understand."
"Listen, I want to speak to the organ grinder, not the monkey," George said, unperturbed.
"I don't much care for your tone, Mr Harrison."
"I don't care about what you don't care for. I need to speak to Brian."
"I explained all this to you yesterday. I am not about to go into it again, here."
George leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "He's gonna be livid when he finds out about all this."
"Yes, I agree..."
"And then you'll be out the door."
"...That a... person such as yourself should be permitted to drag the good name of NEMS down into this sordid quagmire."
George shook his head in disbelief. "And another thing, what the fuck have you told John?"
"Just the truth, George."
"You..."
"He and Ringo were quite surprised to hear it."
"...conniving bastard."
"Did you, or did you not hand me your written resignation yesterday?"
"That letter was not addressed to you!" Anger was welling up inside George. He clenched his fists tightly. His palms were clammy and sticky.
"As I have explained, Brian is... not available. I am dealing with all of his business concerns."
"Is that so?" George said scornfully. "In that case, first you get on to the lawyers and get one down here pretty fuckin' sharpish, then you call Brian and tell him exactly what's going on."
"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."
"I'm going to wring your fuckin' neck when I get out of here..."
"Are you threatening me, George? I'm sure the police would take a dim view of that," Archer smiled again, arrogance all over his face. "Besides, shouldn't that be if you get out of here?"
George was on his feet, fully intending to throw Archer against the wall and hold him there by his neck. He stopped himself just in time, his hand inches from Archer's throat. Archer pushed George away from him with one finger. "What was her name? Grace something? Poor girl. And so young too." George turned his back on him and started to pace the room like a caged animal.
"Well, if that's all you've got to say..." Archer picked up his briefcase.
"It's not," George snapped back.
"As I said, George, this is just a goodwill visit and now I have a pressing appointment. If you need legal representation you will have to arrange it yourself. Good day, Mr. Harrison."
"Wait," George jumped in front of him, blocking his path to the door. "What do you mean?"
"You can't expect to resign one day and then demand legal aid and whatever else from us the next."
"I..."
"In fact, I'm about to issue a statement disestablishing you from us, from NEMS Enterprises, The Beatles and well, everything."
George stared at him, not believing what he was hearing.
"We do not want any association understandably, with a murderer."
"I am not a murderer," George said quietly.
"We'll see."
"You might have Brian in your pocket, but John and Ringo will..."
"Oh, they're quite in agreement, I think you'll find."
"What did you come here for then? Just to provoke me?"
Archer smiled again. His trademark plastic smile. George wished he could punch those teeth to the back of his throat. "Just to let you know." Archer stepped past George and opened the door. George let him go.