BJ shake BJ’s head.
‘I’ll fucking arrest you.’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘Yes, I will.’
‘For what?’
‘Wasting police time. Withholding evidence. Obstruction. Murder?’
‘That’s what they want.’
‘Who?’
‘You know who.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Well then, you’ve obviously been overestimated.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning a lot of people seem to have gone to a lot of bother to make sure you’re not in Yorkshire and not involved with Ripper.’
‘So why do they want you arrested?’
‘Mr Hunter, they want me dead,’ BJ say, spinning truths from lies and lies from truths. ‘Arresting me’s just a way to get their hands on me.’
‘Who?’
BJ shake BJ’s head again. BJ try not to laugh: ‘No names.’
It isn’t working yet -
Hunter’s pissed off.
‘Stop wasting my time,’ he shouts and opens door -
But BJ there first, at door -
BJ slam it shut.
‘Here,’ BJ tell him. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
He holds piece of paper up to BJ’s face. He says: ‘Start fucking talking then.’
BJ push him and paper away: ‘Fuck off.’
‘You called me,’ he shouts. ‘Why?’
‘I didn’t bloody want to, believe me,’ BJ say, moving away from him. ‘I had some serious doubts.’
‘So why?’
‘I was going to just post picture,’ BJ mutter. ‘Then I heard about your suspension and I didn’t know how long you’d be about.’
‘Just this,’ he says, holding up piece of paper. ‘That was all?’
BJ nod.
‘Why?’
‘I just want it to stop,’ BJ say. ‘Want them to stop.’
‘Who?’
‘No fucking names!’ BJ scream. ‘How many more times?’
He looks at BJ then back down at Clare: ‘So why here? Is this where it all started? With her?’
‘Started?’ BJ laugh. ‘Fuck no.’
‘Where it ended?’
‘Beginning of end, shall we say.’
‘For who?’
‘You name them?’ BJ whisper. ‘Me, you, her, – half fucking coppers you’ve ever met.’
He looks back down at piece of paper in his hands:
‘Why Strachan?’ he asks. ‘Because of the magazine? Because of
‘Why they murdered Clare?’ BJ shake BJ’s head. ‘No.’
‘Not the porn? Strachan’s murder had nothing to do with MJM?’
‘No.’
‘I want names -’
‘I’ll give you one name,’ repeating today’s instructions for today’s mission, BJ whisper. ‘And one name only.’
‘Go on?’
‘Her name was Morrison.’
‘Who?’
‘Clare – her maiden name was Morrison.’
‘Morrison?’
‘Know any other Morrisons, do you, Mr Hunter?’
‘Grace Morrison.’
‘And?’
‘The Strafford,’ he says. ‘She was the barmaid at the Strafford.’
‘And?’
‘They were sisters,’ he whispers.
‘And?’
He looks down at piece of paper in his hand:
He looks up again, his eyes open: ‘The Strafford.’
‘Bullseye.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I was there.’
‘Where? You were where?’
‘Strafford,’ BJ say and BJ open door -
But he is there first, at door -
He slams it shut.
‘You’re not going anywhere, pal,’ he says. ‘Not yet.’
‘But that’s your lot, Mr Hunter.’
‘Fuck off,’ he screams. ‘You tell me what happened that night?’
‘Ask someone else.’
‘You mean Bob Craven? There isn’t anybody else, they’re all dead.’
Mission for Dead accomplished, BJ smile: ‘Exactly.’
‘Fuck off,’ he says, grabbing BJ’s jacket.
BJ push him away.
He grabs BJ again.
BJ punch him.
He goes down.
BJ have fingers round his throat but he still has hold of BJ. BJ shout: ‘What fuck are you doing?’
‘Time to stop running,’ he hisses.
BJ kick him but he still has hold of BJ. BJ say: ‘Get fucking off me.’
‘What happened?’
BJ kick him again: ‘I’m saying no more.’
‘Tell me!’
BJ break free and at door -
