Manton helped himself to a cigarette from the packet on the table and Nick gave him a light. ‘Fair enough, Manton. There’s just one more thing. What about Garvald? Why did he come back? Is the cash from that Steel Amalgamated job still lying around somewhere?’

‘Why should I make it easy for you bastards, they’re paying you enough, aren’t they?’ Manton pushed back his chair. ‘Take me downstairs and let’s get it over with. I could do with some sleep.’

‘You’ll have plenty of time for that where you’re going. There isn’t much else to do.’

As they turned to the door, it opened and Grant entered. His face was hard and set, the lines scoured deep. He nodded to the constable. ‘Take him down, will you? I’d like a word with Sergeant Miller.’

The door closed behind them and Nick shook his head. ‘He’ll hang on to that lie until he sees whether Jack Brady pulls through or not. Understandable, I suppose. He’s got nothing to lose now.’

‘They’ve found your car,’ Grant said.

‘Where?’

‘Hagen’s Wharf on the river. Parked just up the street from the entrance. The gate was open so the beat man thought he’d have a look round in case Garvald was there.’

‘And was he?’

Grant nodded. ‘He’s lying on a mudbank at the far end of the wharf. From the sound of it, he’s been shot to death.’

22

The big black van that was known throughout the Department as the Studio was already parked by the pier at the end of Hagen’s Wharf when Nick and Grant arrived.

A couple of constables were rigging an arc lamp powered by the van’s emergency lighting system under the supervision of Henry Wade, the Detective Sergeant in charge of the Studio.

Wade was a large, fat man with several chins and horn-rimmed spectacles that made him look deceptively benign. He wore a heavy overcoat and Homburg hat and looked like a prosperous back-street bookie. When he moved, he moved slowly, but in his line of country, only brains counted and those he had to a remarkable degree.

‘Quick work, Henry,’ Grant said as they approached.

‘Makes a change to get something interesting,’ Wade replied. ‘We were at a break-in at Parson’s Foundry when I got the call.’ He looked at Nick curiously. ‘Who’s this, the college boy?’

Nick ignored him and moved past the van to the end of the pier as someone switched on the arc lamp and light flooded down across the splintered rail.