This time he sipped from his glass and nodded appreciatively, like he’d suddenly noticed the taste. ‘Right, let’s get down to business.’ He pushed a pile of papers from his desk and on to the floor, and pulled out some cigarette papers and a tin of tobacco from the pocket of his cardigan. ‘Rico the resolute,’ he said with a wan smile, ‘roll me a … herbal cigarette – there’s a good fellow?’

Tom shot an alarmed look at Jasmine, but she seemed untroubled.

Rico sat in Woollard’s scruffy old office chair and got busy with the papers. It seemed he was adept at rolling joints. Presumably this was another part of Woollard’s usual payment.

Tom stared at the shambling doctor, astonished by his behaviour. ‘Didn’t you hear what Jasmine told you outside? Rico had an asthma attack, a bad one. If you smoke that thing, he could have another.’

Woollard considered Rico. ‘Didn’t I get you an inhaler for your asthma once before, boy?’

‘Didn’t work,’ said Rico, as he finished making the cigarette. ‘Lost it.’

‘You have to use it regularly, you little fool,’ Woollard snapped. He knocked back the rest of his drink. ‘Now, what was it I prescribed …’ He pushed the cigarette into his pocket and closed his eyes, trying to remember. ‘Cortico-steroid inhaler, probably … Ipatropium? Did we add that to your treatment?’

Rico shrugged.

Woollard sighed. ‘Well, Rico. I suppose I should examine you properly, check what’s what. See how that bite’s healing, too …’ he said without much enthusiasm. ‘You know where the examination room is.’

Rico hopped off the chair and pottered back out into the hallway. Woollard followed him. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

‘And clearly you do,’ Tom said to Jasmine once he’d left the room. ‘Excuse him, I mean. Of a hell of a lot.’

She shrugged, and coiled her lithe body into Woollard’s old office chair. ‘He knows about the ’wolves. He doesn’t ask questions. And he helps us all he can.’

‘Because you bribe him with booze.’

‘Stolen whisky’s cheaper than medical insurance,’ she said, yawning.

Tom shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you actually leave Rico alone with him!’

‘Rico likes him. Woollard ain’t no freak, he don’t mess around touching your privacy,’ said Jasmine, her dark eyes flashing. ‘He’s just in bad times. We don’t all get lucky in life, Tommy-boy.’

That’s for sure, thought Tom. Then he heard a voice, low and furtive-sounding: Woollard. He strained to hear; he’d learned that if he focused hard enough, he was able to summon his more sensitive lupine hearing to his human form.

‘I see …’ Woollard was saying quietly. ‘What are your instructions?’ A tinny, scratchy voice answered from the other end of a phone line, but Tom couldn’t quite make out the words. ‘Yes, that makes sense. Can you get your hands on some?’