any further progress.
‘Unfortunately for you, I’m a police officer and I have the power of entry into licensed premises, in particular where private functions are taking place.’ The last bit was slightly over-egging the pudding, but Henry was more than confident of the powers vested in constables to enter pubs, clubs and all other types of drinking establishments. ‘But I do know this isn’t a private function. Take your hand away, Danny,’ he added, pleased when Bispham responded with puzzled shock at the use of his name. People like him did not like to be known. He produced his warrant card and county crest and flashed it close into the guy’s face, then held it aloft so the others could also see it clearly. He wanted no misunderstandings. ‘Detective Superintendent Henry Christie,’ he introduced himself, ‘Lancashire Constabulary Force Major Investigation Team. And I want to speak to Jonny Cain.’
‘No Jonny Cain here,’ Bispham said defiantly.
‘In that case, I’ll speak to that man there.’ Henry pointed to Cain, whose attention had returned to his food, but was also keeping an eye on the interaction as he chewed on a thick steak. Cain sat back, wiped his mouth with a napkin. His jerked his head at Bispham, who retreated a half-step, scowling at Henry.
‘I like hurting cops,’ he hissed.
‘I like arresting shit-bags,’ Henry came back, unfazed, but realizing that in this situation, with no cavalry on the horizon, he would be in a very invidious position if things kicked off.
‘Stop the bollocks,’ Cain said irritably, ‘and check him.’
‘Pleasure… I want to see if you’re carrying.’
Henry, dressed in his light trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, would have been hard pressed to secrete anything on him, but Bispham wanted to pat him down for concealed weapons. Henry said, ‘Don’t even think of touching me again, Danny.’
‘Right now I’m thinking about beating the crap out of you.’
‘Just step aside,’ Henry said, holding his ground.
‘Henry? You got a problem here?’ an American voice came from the doorway. Karl Donaldson had put in an appearance, was standing a few paces behind him, with Alison and Ginny a little further behind.
‘Jeez,’ Bispham laughed contemptuously, ‘you brought your tame gorilla with you? What is this shite?’ He looked Donaldson up and down, sneering, then made a bad error by stepping up to him and calling him the most obscene word in the English language, a short, guttural insult.
Donaldson moved so quickly that Bispham did not see anything coming, was just suddenly aware of a flash, then massive pain in his face, before he found himself on his backside on the carpet. He sat there for a moment, trying to figure out how he’d got there. Delicately he brought his fingertips up to his face, expecting to feel his nose — but it had been completely flattened by Donaldson’s huge iron fist. There was a rush through his brain and he fell backwards, unconscious, blood pouring out of his face.
Henry had not quite been expecting it either, but went with the flow.
Cain’s remaining two men, Napier and Riddick, pushed their chairs back, dropped their cutlery.
‘Guys, guys,’ Henry said placatingly, ‘you’d join him even before you got to your feet. Now shall we start again?’ he asked Cain.
Cain gave a flat-handed calm-down gesture. ‘Get him cleaned up,’ he told Napier. The man screwed up his napkin and threw it angrily on to the plate, stood up and crossed to his colleague, who was groaning and trying to sit up.
Henry walked to Cain’s table, spun a chair around and straddled it. Cain continued to eat his food. The steak looked excellent.
‘I know who you are,’ he said to Henry.
‘Really.’
‘Make it my business to know every cop who gets on my case. Everything. History, family, dislikes… weaknesses.’
Henry bridled at the implicit threat. ‘In that case you’ll probably know my greatest weakness.’
‘Which is?’
‘And strength — the desire to put villains like you behind bars, people who think they’re above the law, who intimidate and kill…’
Cain raised a finger. ‘Have to stop you there, Superintendent… I don’t kill people.’ He smiled.
‘A matter of conjecture.’ Henry stopped as Danny Bispham was raised unsteadily to his feet and assisted out of the dining room, past Donaldson who had a cheeky grin on his face.
‘And I don’t talk to cops.’
‘Not even the one who just saved your life?’
A forkful of fried onion paused on the way to Cain’s mouth. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘The fact that some guy with a shotgun tried to shoot you, and I stopped him. Silly me.’
‘I don’t think so.’ The onions went in.
‘He went for you as soon as you appeared.’
‘Nah, don’t think so.’
Henry wasn’t fazed. He hadn’t expected Cain to be anything other than obstructive and a liar. People like him did not like cops getting into their lives under any circumstances. But Henry had a message to get across. He leaned over the back of the chair. ‘I don’t know why you’re in this village and I’ve no doubt that you won’t share it with me, but let me tell you something. Whatever it is, it better not spill out and affect anyone else. You’ve already been shot at and, yes, I saved your life, but don’t count on it happening again, because next time I might not be there.’
Cain smiled broadly and said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Henry and Donaldson were back in the living area.
‘Figured you’d need a helping hand. A guardian angel.’
‘Or a pet gorilla. That was a hell of a punch.’
‘He shouldn’t have cussed me like that, not with ladies in earshot. He got what was coming and he knows it.’
‘I just hope we haven’t poked a stick in a hornet’s nest,’ Henry said.
‘We will’ve done.’ Donaldson eased himself slowly into an armchair.
‘How are you feeling?’ Henry asked him.
‘Bad. Ankle’s swollen up to twice its normal size and I know I’ll need to rush to the toilet again very soon.’
‘Thanks anyway.’ Henry regarded his friend who, despite his incapacitating illness and injury had turned out, unbidden, to back him up, just in case things got hairy. Donaldson had fought the stomach cramps, covered up his limp and appeared behind Henry as though nothing was ailing him. Then he’d landed a killer punch that had poleaxed Bispham, a man who, without doubt, was tough and mean.
Now that the moment had passed, Donaldson was debilitated again and a kid with a feather could have knocked him for six.
‘And on that note,’ the American said, grabbing the chair arms and propelling himself to his feet. Half running, half limping, he hobbled out of the room, his last words being ‘Need to go.’
Alison returned from the bar, standing aside to allow him past.
‘Now you two are good mates, not like you and Steve.’
‘Up to a point.’
‘To infinity, I’d guess.’
Henry took a quick but detailed look at her. She was probably fifteen years younger than him, a thought that jolted him somewhat, made him realize how old he was getting. He had passed fifty, was too quickly approaching the middle of that decade, and sixty — sixty — was just over the horizon. By the way time was passing so quickly, he’d be there sooner rather than later. Most of his landmark birthdays hadn’t bothered him, but the prospect of six- zero scared the crap out of him.
Alison came towards him. ‘I’m sorry about before, being a bit forward.’
‘Don’t be. I’m very flattered that someone as gorgeous as you would even give a grizzled old bugger like me a second glance.’ Oh God, he thought, so smooth.
She scrunched her lips thoughtfully together. ‘I might be sorry, but that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind.’
They smiled at each other, knowing that anything between them had gone as far as it was going. It was an
