‘Look, Michael, what we need to do now is forget this shit, and hunt down Steven Golding. Mrs Singh is a fucking shrewd old bird. I’ll get on to the Old Bill now, see what they can find out. About time they earned their fucking keep anyway. Then we can work from there.’

Michael Flynn nodded in agreement. ‘I just want to know Jessie’s all right.’

Declan patted his friend’s shoulder gently. ‘Of course you do, Michael, she’s your daughter!’

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

Chapter One Hundred
and Twenty-One

DI Timothy Branch was relieved to finally be able to give Michael Flynn some useful information. In fact, he’d excelled himself. He drove into the scrapyard and parked his BMW neatly, walking into the Portakabin like a conquering hero.

Michael and Declan were already there as he had expected. He bowled into the room all smiles and smugness until he registered that both Michael Flynn and Declan Costello looked tired and angry. It occurred to him that Michael’s daughter was still missing, so he removed his smile, and settled his face into what he saw as serious work mode.

‘I got here as soon as I could. I think you will be pleased with the information I’ve gathered.’

He waited to be offered a seat. Michael obliged, sweeping his arm out towards the old typist’s chair, saying tightly, ‘Sit and talk. It’s about fucking time you earned your keep.’

Timothy sat down as requested, but his earlier euphoria was gone. Michael Flynn was a very scary man, there was no doubt about that. Declan and Michael were both watching him warily, waiting to hear what he had to say to them.

Timothy Branch knew that this was his only chance to redeem himself. He opened up the file he had on Steven Golding which he had brought with him, and cleared his throat noisily, feeling very nervous once again.