Warder.
'Don't mind me,' said Mr Blaggs. 'I'm not here. Just part of the furniture.'
'Start with how Mac got himself junk,' said Flint. It was best to begin with something he already knew. The Bull told him and Flint wrote it all down with a growing sense of satisfaction. He hadn't known about Prison Officer Lane being bent.
'You'll get me slit for this,' said the Bull when he'd finished with Mrs Jardin, the Prison Visitor.
'I don't know why,' said Flint. 'Mr Blaggs here isn't going to say who told him and it doesn't necessarily have to come out at your trial.'
'Christ,' said the Bull. 'You're not still going on with that, are you?'
'You tell me,' said Flint, maintaining the pressure. By the time he left the prison three hours later, Inspector Flint was almost a happy man. True, the Bull hadn't told him everything, but then he hadn't expected him too. In all likelihood, the fool didn't know much more, but he'd given Flint enough names to be going on with. Best of all, he'd grassed too far to back out, even if the threat of a murder charge lost its effect. The Bull would indeed get himself sliced by some other prisoner if the news ever got out. And the Bear was going to be Flint's next target.
'Being a copper's a dirty business sometimes,' he thought as he drove back to the police station. But drugs and violence were dirtier still. Flint went up to his office and began to check out some names.
Ted Lingon's name rang a belltwo bells, when he put his lists together. And Lingon ran a garage. Promising. But who was Annie Mosgrave?
Chapter 13
'Who?' said Major Glaushof.
'Some guy who teaches English or something evenings. Name of Wilt,' said the Duty Lieutenant. 'H. Wilt.'
'I'll be right over,' said Glaushof. He put the phone down and went through to his wife.
'Don't wait up, honey,' he said, 'I've got a problem.'
'Me too,' said Mrs Glaushof, and settled back to watch Dallas on BBC. It was kind of reassuring to know Texas was still there and it wasn't damp and raining all the time and goddam cold like Baconheath, and people still thought big and did big things. So she shouldn't have married an Airbase Security Officer with a thing going for German Shepherds. And to think he'd seemed so romantic when she'd met him back from Iran. Some security there. She should have known.
Outside, Glaushof climbed into his jeep with the three dogs and drove off between the houses towards the gates to Civilian Quarters. A group of men were standing well back from Wilt's Escort in the parking lot. Glaushof deliberately skidded the jeep to a stop and got out.
'What is it?' he asked. 'A bomb?'
'Jesus, I don't know,' said the Lieutenant, who was listening to a receiver. 'Could be anything.'
'Like he's left his CB on,' a Corporal explained, 'only there's two of them and they're bleeping.'
'Know any Brit who has two CBs running continuously the same time?' asked the Lieutenant.
'No way, and the frequency's wrong. Way too high.'
'So it could be a bomb,' said Glaushof. 'Why the fuck did you let it in?'
In the darkness and under threat of being blown to bits by whatever diabolical device the car concealed, Glaushof edged away. The little group followed him.
'Guy comes every Friday, gives his lecture, has coffee and goes on home no problem,' said the Lieutenant.
