‘I’d say you look rough as a badger’s arse, but you usually do on earlies.’

‘Cheers.’ He grimaced slightly. ‘When I woke up, I thought I’d died and gone to hell. Swamped in smoke, heat from the fire. Felt like a steamroller had gone over me. I had no phone or radio to call it in, so I tried to walk back. Collapsed halfway. Next thing, there was a uniform there.’

‘Least they’ve patched you up.’

‘Yeah, and shot me full of drugs, thanks to which I’m feeling dizzy as shit. I turn too quickly, and I think I’m going to faint. Sick as a dog too. Must have puked up about three times since they brought me in. It was black – from all the smoke I inhaled.’

‘It’s tough, I agree … but I think you were lucky, Malcolm.’

He looked at her askance. ‘Is that a joke?’

‘No, seriously. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I think you were very lucky indeed.’

Peabody was still eyeing her sceptically about two minutes later, when a patrol car swung into the hospital car park. Without another word, he climbed in and was taken away.

‘Now, the real reason we’re here,’ Nehwal said.

Lucy looked at her. ‘Sorry, ma’am … the real reason?’

Nehwal set off walking. ‘I’m assuming he’s still in ICU.’

Lucy followed. ‘McCracken?’

‘Who else?’

Chapter 36

When they reached the ICU entrance, a single uniform was on duty outside. They flashed their warrant cards and he passed them through. At the interior door, the day nurse, also after checking their IDs, buzzed them in. Two firearms officers in full battle-kit, MP5 carbines held across their chests, were standing outside McCracken’s room, talking and chuckling together as they sipped from paper cups. They knew Nehwal on sight and nodded to her as they stepped aside.

Inside the room, the gangster looked in better shape than he had done the night before. He’d regained his complexion and was sitting upright, a rack of pillows behind him, his left arm fixed in a sturdy but comfortable-looking sling. A trolley stood to one side, the remnants of his breakfast on top of it. A newspaper lay on the coverlet.

He gave them his trademark wolfish smile. ‘And who might you lovely ladies be?’

‘You can save the smarm, McCracken.’ Nehwal showed her warrant card and stuck it back into her pocket. ‘I’m not lovely and she’s not a lady … she rides a Ducati and she bangs idiots like you in jail for a hobby.’

He glanced from one to the other, his mouth a perfect O. ‘Now you’ve got me intrigued.’

‘Actually, we’re the ones who’re intrigued. I’m Detective Superintendent Nehwal, Serious Crimes Division. This is Detective Constable Clayburn, who once locked you up, you may recall.’