Adrian stared down at the table.
'The other man,' he said. 'The man I got it off. I'll give you his name.'
'Well, that's a start.'
'But he mustn't know that I told you.'
He had a sudden vision of a Godfather-like revenge being wreaked against him. Adrian, the man who grassed, beaten to a pulp in a prison, a brown-paper parcel of two dead fishes sent to his parents.
'I mean he won't ever know, will he? I won't have to give evidence against him or anything?'
'Calm down, Hugo, old lad. If he's a dealer we put him under surveillance and we catch him in the act. Your name never comes into it.'
Sergeant Canter leant forward, gently raised Adrian's chin with a finger, and looked into his eyes.
'That's a promise, Hugo. Believe me.'
Adrian nodded.
'But you'd better start talking quick. Your boyfriend is going to be wondering where you are by now. We don't want him to call his dealer friend up on the blower, do we?'
'No.' ,
'No. He'll be out of it quick as shit off a shovel and then Hugo Bullock will still be the only name on my list.'
'He . . . my friend won't miss me until the evening.'
'I see, what's his job?'
'Look, I said. I'm only going to tell you about the other man.'
'My pencil is poised, Hugo.'
After Adrian had signed his statement they brought him a cup of tea. A detective inspector came in to read through it. He glanced at Adrian.
'Looks like you're in a bit of luck, Bullock. Zak is not exactly a stranger to us. About five nine, you say?'
'Well I said I thought he was about the same size as Sergeant Canter.'
'Stud in the left ear?'
'I'm pretty sure it was the left.'
'Yeah. We lost the bastard a couple of months ago. If he's where you say he is you've done us a bit of a favour.'
'Oh well. Anything to help.'
The detective inspector laughed.
'Get him charged and sorted out with a brief, John. Possession.'
'What's a brief?' asked Adrian when the inspector had gone.
'Solicitor.'
'Oh. I thought . . . you know, legal aid. Don't you provide one?'
A boy like you . . . your parents are going to want to appoint one.'
'My parents?'
'Yeah. What's their address?'
'I'd I'd much rather keep my parents out of it. They don't know where I am you see and I've put them through enough really.'
'They file you as a missing person?'
'Yes ... I mean, I think they did go to the police. I bumped into my godfather and he said they had.'
'I think they'd be happier knowing where you are then, don't you?'
But Adrian remained firm and was led to the desk to be charged as Hugo Bullock.
'Empty your pockets on the desk, please.'
His possessions were examined and itemised in a ledger.
'You have to sign so that when you get them back you know we haven't robbed you,' said Canter.
'Oh lordy lord, I trust you,' said Adrian, who was beginning to enjoy himself. 'If a chap can't consign his chattels to an honest constable without suspicion then what has the world come to?'
'Yeah, right. We'll need your signature anyway. Oh, and there's one other thing, Adrian.'
'Yes?'
'Ah,' said Canter. 'So it's Adrian Healey, is it? Not Hugo Bullock.'
Damn, shit, bollocks and buggery-fuck.
D.S. Canter was holding up Anouilh's
