The detective superintendent nodded slowly. ‘Well, it’s your bed, so you’ll be the one who has to lie in it.’

Lucy was puzzled. ‘Ma’am?’

‘Me and Priya have been chatting this morning,’ Beardmore said. ‘We’re genuinely concerned by this case – that’s the Hopkins and Cunningham abductions, not the missing dogs. We think it needs some, shall we say, special attention.’

‘Okay …’ Lucy said.

‘So what we propose is to set up a small special-investigation unit dedicated to this incident. Only small, mind. A kind of miniature taskforce … to work solely on these two possible abductions, and either establish beyond any doubt that they’re unconnected, in which case we’re back as we were, or to establish that they are – at which point we kick it up the food chain for Serious Crimes’ full and undivided attention.’ He sat back. ‘Do you want to take point?’

Lucy nodded immediately. ‘Yeah … thanks.’

‘Good God, don’t thank us, Lucy.’ Nehwal spoke almost pityingly. ‘It’s got all the makings of a classic ball-acher.’

Chapter 14

Miles O’Grady drove a brand-new silver-grey Jaguar XJ, which he hadn’t just acquired for its elegance and power. He wanted people to know he was a success, though he didn’t want to draw undue attention to himself by being overly showy. In that regard, the Jag was just right.

But O’Grady didn’t feel especially empowered that Monday morning, as he circled the bus station and veered right onto the broken, weed-filled paving stones of Long Acre. Just across it from Dashwood House, he pulled up in front of the door to the subterranean garage he rented, climbed out, opened it manually, drove through, got out again and closed and bolted the door behind him. As he eased the Jag down the ramp, the motion-sensitive light flickered to life, exposing a dank concrete cellar large enough to accommodate about three vehicles, though O’Grady’s was the only one that parked here. He paid for this place out of his own pocket, and so kept it exclusively for his own use. Roper and Stone didn’t even know about it, and so whenever they came to the office, they had to use one of the pay car parks in the town centre.

But at present, neither the Jag nor his underground concrete kingdom did anything to soothe O’Grady’s anger. He parked, and then sat behind the steering wheel, seething. When the light switched itself off again, he barely noticed.

The only real thing to do, he finally told himself, was to go along with this.

At least for the moment.

Until such time as an opportunity arose to break it off permanently.

But when would that be, if ever? How much money would he lose?

The Crew. The fucking Crew!

How the hell did you fight them?