‘Right. So if he took the fire escape, the quickest way out of town is Rooster’s, tucking in around the side of the laundrette, before crossing the alley into the wasteland behind. No more than ten or fifteen minutes, if you want to make sure to stay hidden.’

‘You know that laundrette’s always busy,’ countered Mitch. ‘They’re always out back hanging clothes on the lines.’

‘Yes,’ said Chandler, jumping on the opportunity to get one up on Mitch and persuade him that he needed his local – and recent – knowledge. ‘But that laundrette closed down last year, so there’d be no one to disturb his exit. If he decided to go that way. Jim checked it out and saw nothing to indicate he did.’

Mitch seemed undeterred by being caught out. ‘Plausible, Sergeant, plausible but as you said there was no sign of the suspect. You may know this shithole better than I do, but you haven’t found him yet so some fresh thinking is needed.’

‘You need my help,’ said Chandler.

Mitch corrected him. ‘I need your input, Sergeant. And I need the input of your team. But your help? If I need your help, I’ll ask,’ he said, the smile gone, face turning to granite; hard, pockmarked and impenetrable. ‘And the input I need from you at present is to make sure that this place is running smoothly and that my team out there have everything they need. Paper, stationery, phones, a constant line to State and anyone else that they ask to be put in contact with. You are the cog that keeps this thing running, Sergeant.’

Chandler had heard enough. He turned to leave.

Mitch called after him. ‘It’s an important job, Sergeant. The big boys get nothing done without their secretaries doing all the graft.’

Chandler turned. ‘I’m not running around fetching cups of tea and feeding you biscuits.’

Mitch laughed. ‘Of course not. My team don’t need you to do those things, they are more than capable themselves. What you can do is take care of the local angle. There are bound to be questions regarding what’s happening, police walking the streets and strangers in black suits moping around town. It’s your job to allay their fears, Sergeant,’ said Mitch, the constant use of formalities fraying Chandler’s nerves. But his old colleague wasn’t finished. ‘You take care of the small picture and I’ll do the big.’

Chandler took a deep breath. ‘You haven’t changed have you, Mitch?’

Mitch held back a grin. ‘I could say the same. Shit never turns to gold no matter how long it spends in the ditch.’

‘I thought this wasn’t going to be a battle?’ said Chandler.