‘You fucka’!’ cried the innocent victim, pulling himself up from the floor. ‘You’re a dead man!’

Innocent lurched forward and clattered into Smaller while their bemused companion tried to make sense of it. The brawl was enough to draw out the irritated WPC from her surveillance point.

‘That’s enough!’ she shouted, fumbling around on her belt for a can of CS spray.

Georgie cringed, decided not to look anymore and pulled her head back around, leaning against the side of the bus shelter, eyes closed. The commotion intensified. She heard the desperate plea for assistance from the WPC into her radio. And the horn of the car that swerved to avoid the fray. One of the others, presumably Innocent, had sent Smaller sprawling into the middle of the road.

She opened her eyes. Ahead, several other people had stopped what they were doing to watch the scuffle unfold. There was a hissing sound, presumably the WPC discharging her CS spray into someone’s eyes, and the sound of an agony-induced yelp.

Georgie decided it was best to close her eyes again. She recalled reading an article about CS spray some time ago. The pain of the chemicals was similar to the sensation of boiling water being poured over your eyes, apparently.

Oh dear.

There was a loud slap on the side of the bus shelter beside her.She jumped and let out a squawk of shock.

‘Sorry,’ said Charlie.

She looked at him, baffled. He craned his neck around the bus shelter to watch the brawl.

‘Good work, Someday,’ he breathed.

‘Hope it was worth it,’ she said, breathless.

He pulled out a leaflet and handed it to her. ‘The Budget Gym on Grace Street,’ he announced, clearly pleased with the discovery. ‘It was on the pinboard in the kitchen. SOCO probably didn’t think it was important.’

Georgie didn’t see the significance at first. ‘And this is helpful because . . .’

Charlie turned the key and the Volvo’s engine coughed into life. ‘Because they have lockers, Someday.’

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Priest pulled the Volvo out of the parking space and U-turned so he was heading back down Bristol Road. He noticed Georgie fidgeting in her seat; she was trying to see what was going on behind them but the bus shelter was blocking the view.

As they reached the T-junction at the bottom of Bristol Road, two Metropolitan patrol cars, blues lit up, cut across them, tyres screeching over the tarmac.

‘Do you think it’ll be all right?’ Georgie asked.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Georgie looked down in what was presumably an attempt to reassure herself.

After half a mile of silence, Priest asked, ‘Was that a bottle of Coke I saw you lob at that man?’ Georgie didn’t respond but looked across at him sheepishly. Priest nodded. ‘Good throw, kid.’

‘What do you think will happen with the trial?’