Beneath the dome, lying on the plate, wasn’t a serving of food, but a rectangular sliver of plastic.

It was her warrant card.

She gaped at it, utterly confounded. What was this? Some kind of joke? How on earth had her warrant card got into this restaurant? And why was it being served to her on a plate?

She looked up at the waiter quizzically. But it wasn’t the waiter who’d given them the menus.

She knew that voice had sounded familiar…

It was Rick.

He was standing there dressed in a waiter’s white shirt and black waistcoat smiling down at her with his dead shark eyes.

And Dale was nowhere to be seen.

67

Bailey blinked and did a double take, not quite believing what she was seeing.

But Rick was still standing there looking down at her with his cold black eyes and a nasty grin on his face. He was no hallucination.

She looked back down at the table.

And that was definitely her warrant card lying on the plate. Incontrovertible proof that she was a policewoman, it bore the logo of the Metropolitan Police, beneath which were the words ‘POLICE OFFICER’ stated boldly in red. It showed her current rank – detective constable – and, quite crucially, the name ‘Bailey Morgan’ clearly printed right there in black and white, accompanied by a little photograph of herself.

How the fuck had her warrant card got here? Why the fuck was Rick here? What the fuck was going on?

With a horrible sickening lurch, it all clicked into place.

Asian fusion.

This must be the Asian fusion restaurant that Rick had talked about acquiring back when they’d been having lunch after going pheasant shooting. He’d never actually mentioned the name of it, but this had to be it. It meant this was his turf – an environment totally under his control.

That’s why there were no other customers here.

It was a trap. And the jaws had closed on her.

She gasped, finding it hard to draw breath all of a sudden as the true horror of the situation dawned upon her.

Like actors appearing on a stage, the rest of the gang emerged from behind a paper screen. Shane Reaper… Archie Steele… Stephen Drood… and finally Nancy Molloy. The sight of each one struck a further hammer blow of dread into Bailey’s heart.

They stood around the booth, looking down at her, their faces cold and unforgiving.

Her mind turned to Dale. Where was he? Were they going to jump him when he came back into the restaurant? Or had they already done so? Was he already dead?

Then, stunned, the penny dropped.

She had been betrayed by Dale.

How else could the Molloys have got hold of her warrant card? Only Dale knew about the secret compartment where she kept it. He must have removed it earlier that evening when he’d made that excuse about needing to use the bathroom in her flat.

And the restaurant. That was why Dale had asked her if she’d heard of it. Just to double-check that Rick hadn’t mentioned the name to her.