“Sadly Mr Warwick, a gentleman’s agreement means bugger all to me—not being a gentleman.” He showed his teeth, a flash of white like a shark in murky water. “I need cold hard cash in advance or I’ll find another buyer. I’m offering top quality merchandise. There’ll be no shortage of takers. But if I have to go to that extra trouble there will be . . . penalties to pay. You crystal on that too?”

Fear pulled tight at the base of Warwick’s skull leaving him breathless. He felt the ground shift under him, saw opportunity begin to tilt away and fought to keep his balance mentally and physically. He paused as if considering then said, “How about I include a bonus—on delivery? Full payment plus shall we say an extra five percent? To ensure future goodwill.”

Grogan continued to stare at him, chin sunk down as if the only thing he was contemplating was a mid-morning nap. “Ten percent,” he said at last.

“Seven.”

“Make it eight Mr Warwick and you’ve got a deal,” Grogan said giving no sign of pleasure at the extra profit. “This time. But I better have it in triplicate from the gnomes in Grand Cayman that the money’s sitting pretty in my account before that ship unloads or I will be . . . upset Mr Warwick. Very upset.”

“It will be there.” Warwick offered his hand to shake on the deal but Grogan continued to stare like a fat reclining toad. After a few awkward seconds Warwick withdrew his hand and climbed out blinking in the unaccustomed brightness. By the other Range Rover the sumo-style driver was waiting with the rear door already open for him. The passenger lounged against the front wing watching.

“Oh, and Mr Warwick?”

He turned to find Grogan had lowered the rear window and was leaning towards the aperture.

“Yes?”

“Muck me about again son, I’ll cut off your balls and feed them back to you. Understand?”

60

Detective Constable Ian Dempsey was so engrossed in the information on his computer screen that he only registered DI O’Neill’s approach in the periphery of his mind and vision. Nothing snapped into focus until a refill mug of coffee was plonked down next to the cluster of empties already vying for desk space by his elbow.

“There you go,” O’Neill said. “You look like you could do with a belt of caffeine.”

Dempsey sat back in his chair and stretched both arms above his head. He was abruptly aware that his deodorant was not living up to its twenty-four-hour promise. He rubbed his hands across his face against a rasp of stubble.

“You got that right,” he said wearily. “Cheers boss.”

The coffee was weak instant but it was hot and wet and for that he was prepared to forgive its shortcomings. Swallowing half of it down in one go he put the mug back on the desktop feeling distinctly more human and glanced across at the huge whiteboard at the far side of the office. A picture of Kelly Jacks was tacked up as the sole candidate under ‘Suspects’. Next to it was a snap of the dead kid Tyrone Douet, smiling broadly. The shot had been cropped down from a larger image of the lad with his five-a-side team. Half a football trophy was still visible on his shoulder.

“Any sightings?”

Dempsey shook his head. “She seems to have gone to ground boss. But we’ve plastered the city with her picture and description so it’s only a matter of time.” He sounded hopeful rather than confident.

O’Neill perched on the edge of the desk and nodded to the computer. “You find anything?”

Dempsey shook his head. “I’ve been going over the old reports on the Jacks case, looking for the kinks.”

“You think there might have been something off with it?”

The DI’s tone made Dempsey sudden cautious. “Not sure boss. The guy in charge—DCI Allardice—was before my time. I mean, he was an effective copper if his record’s anything to go by but reading between the lines he took a few short cuts.”

O’Neill scowled and, too late, Dempsey recalled that O’Neill had worked under Allardice when he was a DC.

Bugger. How the hell do I get out of that?

He was saved from doing so by a new voice from the doorway.

“Just because you were Frank Allardice’s blue-eyed boy doesn’t mean you were blind to his faults Vince,” said the chief super.

O’Neill got to his feet and turned to face John Quinlan.

“No sir,” he said neutrally.

Detective Chief Superintendent Quinlan advanced further into the room and Dempsey quickly slid his chair back to get to his feet but Quinlan waved him down again without taking his eyes off O’Neill.

“I hope you’re not letting old loyalties get in the way of the job?” Quinlan said.

“No sir,” O’Neill said again. “But Allardice is retired and well out of it—has been for a while now. What’s the use of digging any of it up unless Tyrone Douet’s death somehow relates to Jacks’s murder of Callum Perry?”

“And does it?”

O’Neill glanced at Dempsey before answering. “Not as far as we know sir.”

“Hmm,” Quinlan said. He came to a halt and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “When the man who was in charge of an old case jumps on a plane and comes winging over here double quick just to tell you what a slam dunk it was—and how guilty she was—it makes my spidey-sense tingle gentlemen.”

O’Neill frowned and Dempsey hid a smile.

“I suppose he could have said all that in a phone call.”

“Indeed,” Quinlan said and turned his attention to Dempsey. “So what did you find that’s set your spidey-sense atingling?”

Dempsey hastily scrolled up the on-screen file.

“Mr Allardice never ordered blood tests on Kelly Jacks first time round,” he said. “Nor did he look into her statement that Callum Perry claimed to have information to trade—information which might have given someone other than Jacks a reason to want him offed.”

“She was found with the bloody knife in her hands,” O’Neill pointed out with a touch of acid in his voice. “That makes for a pretty compelling case. You certainly thought so at the time sir.”

Dempsey tried not to audibly suck in a breath but Quinlan let the pointed remark whizz past him without ruffling his hair.

“I did,” he said heavily. “And if I was mistaken then I want to rectify that mistake—but not loudly and not in public.” His stony gaze was a warning. “At the moment we don’t know how the drugs in Jacks’s system got there but we’ll find out. Meanwhile concentrate on finding her and bringing her in. Anything else is secondary.”