I gave her the uncertain smile. “I’m terribly sorry to trouble you,” I started. “I’m a photography student at the Poly and I’m doing a project for my finals. I’ve got to get photographs of the Manchester city center skyline from lots of different angles, and this block is just perfect for me. I know it’s a terrible imposition, but I wondered if I could possibly step out on your balcony for five minutes to do some pictures?” I looked hopeful.

She looked suspicious and craned her neck to see past me. I stepped back obligingly so she could see I was alone. “I could pay you a small fee,” I said, deliberately sounding reluctant.

“How small?” she asked belligerently.

“I could manage ten pounds,” I replied hesitantly, taking my wallet from my pocket and opening it.

The money made her decision for her, and I could see why as soon as I stepped inside. The whole place was threadbare—carpets, curtains, furniture. Even her cardigan was darned on the elbows. There was a pervasive smell of staleness, as if fresh air cost as much as every other commodity that made life worth living. I didn’t like deceiving her, but consoled myself that it was in a good cause, and besides, she was a tenner richer than she’d been this morning.

She offered me a cup of tea, but I declined and waited patiently while she unfastened the two locks on the balcony door. Maybe she’d been watching too much television and really believed in Spiderman.

The balcony was perfect. I opened my case and took out a 400mm lens. I twisted it into my Nikon body and leaned the heavy assembly on the balcony rail. I looked through the viewfinder. Perfect. Now I could see exactly how it had been done. I started shooting, then, to prove the gods were really smiling on me, Gary Smart appeared in shot. I kept my finger on the trigger and let the motor drive do the work.

An hour later, I was surveying the results with a feeling of deep satisfaction. I marched through to Bill with a sheaf of prints and dumped them on his desk.

“Elementary, my dear Mortensen,” I announced.

Bill tore himself away from his screen and picked up the pictures. He thumbed through them with a puzzled frown, then, as he reached the ones with Gary, he laughed out loud.

“Bang to rights, Kate,” he chuckled. “Tony Redfern will be kicking some arses tonight.” He picked up the phone and said, “Shelley, can you get me Tony Redfern, please.” He covered the mouthpiece and said, “Well done, Kate. After I’ve put Tony in the