He wouldn’t be around to see their reaction, of course. But at least he’d die in the knowledge that the bastards would never forget him.

Or the fact that he’d made them pay a heavy price for what they’d done.

Danny called as soon as the police in Streatham released him. He’d been held for five hours and his flat had been turned upside down.

‘They took a couple of phones and a tablet,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry – they’re not the ones I use. Those are well hidden.’

They compared notes on their respective interviews and agreed the cops were clueless.

‘I told them about my condition,’ Slack said. ‘I asked them not to share the info but it doesn’t mean they won’t.’

‘I don’t think it matters considering where this is all going,’ Danny said.

‘I agree, but I’d like to keep it from the lads as long as possible.’

‘Fair enough, but they’re pretty anxious after all that’s happened. I’ve spread the word that we’ll meet up later. I just need to give ’em a time.’

‘Let’s say seven o’clock at the office,’ Slack said. ‘I’ll have dinner downstairs afterwards.’

‘OK, I’ll arrange it.’

‘And one other thing. I’m gonna want you to send another message to the detectives.’

‘Saying what?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

Slack hung up and called Mike. He told him to come and pick him up at six thrity. That gave him plenty of time to shower and change.

He finished his coffee and left what remained of his cigar in the ashtray. He was heading for the bathroom when a text came through on his phone. It was from Rosa, and it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand to attention.

Number two taken care of in Clapham. News will break soon.

27

Laura

Emotions were running high in the office. Everyone was tired and tearful, and each person was dealing with the shock in his or her own way.

It wasn’t as though we could withdraw into ourselves and grieve for one of our own. We had to stay on top of things, stay focused, do our jobs … even though we were reeling from Dave Prentiss’s murder.

Kate Chappell was among those who were struggling to cope. When I went into the toilets I found her staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes beaten red from crying.

‘I don’t know how they can expect us to carry on as normal,’ she said. ‘Dave’s been murdered, for Christ’s sake. Anyone of us could be next.’

‘The alternative is to give in to the maniac who’s behind it,’ I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘And we can’t let that happen.’

She took a tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her eyes.