He waited for two of the armed officers to position themselves either side of the door and hammered on it with a fist as heavy as his heart.
Ashley Bradley's grandmother peered out. 'Can I help you?'
Duncton took her by the arms and moved her outside. 'Is he here?'
'Ashley?'
'Yes, Mrs Bradley. Is your son here?'
'No, he's not in right now. And he's my grandson.'
Duncton gestured and the armed men piled into the house. A few seconds later they emerged shaking their heads.
'I told you,' said Mrs Bradley.
Duncton sighed. 'Where is he, then?'
'He's gone to the cinema. Some film he wanted to see. He loves romantic films.'
Delaney jogged painfully back the way he had come and had to stop by a bus shelter to catch his breath. He leaned against it as he pulled out his packet of cigarettes, cursing at the awkwardness of only having one arm to use as he fumbled one into his mouth. A handsomely dressed middle-aged couple walked past, putting as much room between him and them as possible. Delaney didn't blame them. He used the flat of his hand to brush some of the dust from his trousers. He sneezed. He lit his cigarette and sneezed again. And then he realised, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth, but not quite. 'Idiot!' He almost shouted it.
The middle-aged couple ahead looked back, but Delaney didn't even register them. He began running back towards the house he had left just five minutes previously. Running in real earnest now.
Ashley did like romantic films. Quite often in the early screenings it meant there was a fair scattering of women in the audience. Single women who didn't want to come later and feel jealous of the happy couples sitting all around them. Ashley could relate to that. He settled back and enjoyed the trailers. His overcoat was pulled lightly together, his jeans were unbuttoned beneath it and with a hole already cut in his right-hand pocket he was good to go.
While he had been sat there she had already eaten a hot dog and was now munching her way through a bin-sized bucket of popcorn. Not that he was objecting, he liked to hear women eat. He enjoyed listening to the wet sounds her lips made as they slapped together, the little, almost inaudible groans of pleasure as she swallowed.
He gave himself a little preparatory stroke. The next trailer was for a Sandra Bullock film. Ashley Bradley was a big fan of Sandra Bullock. Had been ever since
Robert Duncton and four of his men stopped opposite Bradley's seat, fanning out, two of them training semi-automatic pistols at him.
'Get him.'
The other two leaned in and yanked him up. His coat flew open, his jeans dropped, and his penis, semi-priapic, twisted and scarred, wagged in the direction of the woman sitting next to him.
She looked at it, screamed and promptly threw up.
Ashley's day wasn't getting any better.
Nor was Detective Inspector Robert Duncton from Paddington Green's. 'Get him out of here,' he shouted, stepping back and wiping some of the splatter from his once immaculate trousers.
Delaney pushed open the front door that he had earlier forced and walked in again, listening for any sounds, but there were none. He flicked the light on
