Delaney nodded. 'Can I see the other guy?'
'He's in surgery now. When he comes out you can see him. You won't be able to talk to him though, not for a while.'
Delaney and Sally walked back down the corridor, outside and across the car park to a small canteen that was run by volunteers to provide refreshment to the hospital visitors. It was a wooden A-frame and built like an alpine ski lodge, as incongruent in the rain-slashed English morning as a palm tree in Piccadilly.
Sally went inside while Delaney held back, taking advantage of a lull in the rain to spark up a cigarette. He drew deep on it, ignoring the disapproving glances from passers-by as he let out a stream of smoke. He felt conflicted. Ordinarily, seeing Norrell in intensive care would have brightened his mood. But the steroid-enhanced, bonehead muscle for hire had information stored somewhere within his Neolithic brain that Delaney needed. The thought that the man might die was almost too much for him to bear. Not when he was this close, not after so long.
He ground his cigarette under heel and went inside to join Sally who had brought a couple of teas over to a small table by the window. Inside the cafe was more like a scout hut, or the village hall from
Sally looked at him for a moment. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
'Talk about what?'
'What happened that night?'
'No.'
Sally didn't answer him for a second. 'We were due to interview Norrell this morning, right?'
'Operative word being due.'
'In connection with the murder of your wife?'
'That's right.'
Sally seemed to steel herself. 'Well, the last time I looked, and with all due respect, sir, I'm a police detective. Not a waitress. Not a chauffeur. Not a dogsbody.'
Delaney waved a hand, a little amused by her angry tone. 'And the point would be?'
'That this is a police investigation, as you told the governor. And as far as I know I'm on your team, aren't I?'
Delaney looked at her for a moment then sighed. 'I'm sure you know it all anyway.'
'Go on.'
'About four years ago. I was off duty. I stopped to fill up in a petrol station when it was being raided. They were armed with shotguns. My wife was in the car with me.'
'What happened?'
'One of them fired his sawn-off, shattering the plate window. I jumped in the car and attempted to follow them. They shot back at us. Disabling the car. Killing my wife.'
'I'm sorry.'
Delaney nodded. 'As I said, you've heard it all before. We were never able to trace the van, we never found out the identity of the raiders. It was a closed book. A cold case. And then Norrell started talking about it.'
'You think he was genuine? You really think he knew something?'
Delaney shrugged his shoulders. 'I hope so. I hope he lives long enough for us to find out.'
He looked out of the window; the wind had picked up again and with it the rain. Fat beads of water were splashing repeatedly and loudly against the glass of
