Everyone took their seats. Before they could even get started, Annie’s mobile buzzed. She apologized and went outside and answered the call. It was DC Masterson in the hospital.

“What is it, Gerry?” she said. “You should be resting.”

“I am,” Gerry said. “They gave me some more pills for the pain along with a sedative to help me sleep. It’s really quite pleasant. Now I know why junkies do what they do.”

“What’s so important?”

“It might not be important, but I’ve remembered something. From last night.”

“Hurry up. We’re just about to get started with the meeting.”

“Can you put me on speakerphone so I can participate?”

“Gerry, you’re trying my patience.”

“Yes, guv. Well, as I said, it may not be important, but just before they hit me and started chasing me, one of the gang, the one who shouted out to Tariq, called me ‘Ginger,’ among other things.”

“Without meaning anything negative, Gerry, that’s a perfectly natural thing to call you, under the circumstances.”

“I’m not denying the color of my hair, guv, but I am wondering how he knew. It was dark out there on the street, where we were, and as far as I know he’d never seen me before. It was like a derelict edge of the estate, opposite an abandoned factory, and most of the streetlights were broken. You’d have to have superhuman vision to see the color of a person’s hair.”

“We didn’t imagine it was a random attack on a lone female,” Annie said. “But if he couldn’t see your hair in the dark, how did he know to call you Ginger?”

“I think Sunny must have told him about us, our visit to the takeaway, maybe told them to keep an eye out for us. Jade mentioned that Sunny and the others had some young lads on the estate who’d do legwork for them. Maybe they do a bit of enforcing, too.”

“That still doesn’t explain how they knew it was you.”

“I would imagine Sunny described us both, told them I was the tall, skinny one with long ginger hair.”

“And what does that make me?” asked Annie. “The short dumpy one with curly brown hair?”

“No, ma’am . . . I . . . I didn’t . . .”

“Sorry, Gerry. It’s OK. Go on. How did they know where you were?”