The DC left the office, pulling the door closed behind her. Fiona stared at Farmer, wild-eyed, almost panting. Farmer stepped around his desk and guided her into a chair. ‘Seen who?’ he asked again, gently.

‘I told you about the women who came to my door. To my home. Years ago. There was a blonde schoolgirl. Well I’ve just seen her. She’s older, but I know I’m not mistaken. It’s her.’

‘Where?’ asked Farmer.

‘She was at the desk, talking to the sergeant. Just now.’

Farmer flung himself out of the office and hared off to the front of the building. The two drunks he’d seen earlier were having an even louder argument out there now, and Doug the sergeant on desk duty was taking absolutely no notice of them. He looked up in surprise as Farmer crashed out through the inner door. There was no one standing at the counter, only Doug, on his own. The stunning blonde was gone and no one else had taken her place.

‘There was a woman here just now. A blonde,’ he said.

‘Yeah. Not long walked out the door,’ said Doug.

Farmer hurried across the room and out through the door, down the steps, onto the pavement. He stood there in the pelting rain. Traffic hissed past as he stood looking up and down the road. No sign of her. She was gone.

‘Fuck!’

He went back up the steps and into the station. Went to Doug at the desk.

‘What did she come in for?’ he asked him.

‘Her cousin was assaulted. And she was threatened. She was reporting it.’

‘You got her details? Address and everything?’

Doug nodded and turned the freshly completed form around so that Farmer could see it.

‘Actually I know her,’ said Doug. ‘Well, I know of her.’

‘What?’ Farmer squinted up at him then turned his attention to the report. Angel O’Brien. ‘Know her how?’

‘She wasn’t “O’Brien” then. Remember the Lenny Axelford case?’

‘Axelford who was running the fake bureaux de change? Yeah. Sure I do. He’s doing time for it right now.’

Doug gave a smile. ‘Well that little beauty is his old lady. Or was. As I say, she’s dropped the Axelford and reverted to her maiden name. Probably divorced the sod if she’s got any sense.’

So Angel O’Brien was the schoolgirl who had pitched up at Fiona’s front door. And her cousin had been done over, and she had been threatened?

‘I’ll need a copy of this,’ he told Doug.

‘Sure. No probs.’

Then he thought of the Super’s words. Drop it. But he couldn’t. Hunter had told him to, years ago. Orders from on high, from people with the right handshakes, the right connections. Now, again.

No bloody way, he thought.

142

From the police station, Angel got a cab straight to the hospital. She’d been feeling edgy and uncertain ever since the attack on Tom. She still couldn’t quite believe it had happened. But it had. The owner of the club, the miserable bastard, had not even missed a beat over Tom’s absence from work. He’d said a few sympathetic words, then drafted in a temp manager, who was an even bigger bastard than the owner himself, which was saying something, demanding that the club re-open, sharpish, they were losing money here.