Dark Side by Margaret Duffy

CID and sundry friends those in charge there have – wealthy and dubious friends hiding behind the respectable facade of the church, a senior position in the army, etc. etc.
ad nauseam.
’
    â€˜Cooper sounds a great guy,’ Greenway commented when I paused for breath.
    I continued, ‘I’ll give you the story in case you aren’t in possession of the full details. On Friday night when Carrick and Patrick were engaged in watching the area near Mallory’s flat, working undercover – just about unrecognizable – as down-and-outs, they were waylaid and an attempt was made to do them serious injury. Carrick was quite badly hurt and will be on sick leave for at least a fortnight. You told Patrick that it was Avon and Somerset’s problem. It isn’t, it’s very serious crime and this man, Raptor, or whatever he’s calling himself right now,
is
based in London. You know most of this, but you’re not even considering taking our advice and instead keep blethering on about Patrick’s lack of commitment!’
    Greenway’s brow furrowed as if he was trying to remember if anyone had accused him of blethering before. Probably … not.
    I went on, ‘If there had been some kind of official support the so-called disaster probably wouldn’t have happened and we would not have the situation whereby there’s every chance that Carrick will now go and shred one or both of them into very small pieces.’
    I had hazarded a lot in saying that, Carrick’s reputation and career included.
    â€˜Is there a serious risk of that happening?’ Greenway asked us both. ‘I know you told me that Cooper was sent to prison for, among other things, masterminding an attack on Joanna Mackenzie, now Carrick’s wife.’
    â€˜There was a touch and go situation recently when Mallory, almost certainly under Cooper’s orders, was parked outside his house, having turned up again after the crew of an area car had moved him on,’ Patrick answered. ‘That was when I promised to do all I could to help him sort it out.’
    The commander does not have worry beads but a collection of brightly coloured paperclips which are either in a small antique china bowl on his desk or arrayed, as they were now, in complicated patterns on the leather blotter that, for some obscure reason, senior policemen never seem to be able to do without. Now, he impatiently swept the whole lot back into the bowl.
    To Patrick, he said, ‘How did these people know who you were?’
    â€˜God knows. As Ingrid said, we were in pretty heavy disguise. Even my parents didn’t recognize me when they came upon me dozing on a bench in Victoria Park.’
    This was a new one on me.
    Patrick resumed, ‘I’d hung around in the area close to Cooper’s place the previous night but there’d been no sign of him. His car wasn’t there either and he didn’t come home. Carrick and I met up, quite by accident, in Beckford Square. He’s very experienced in that kind of work as he used to go undercover when he was in the Met’s Vice Squad. We shared a can of beer he’d brought with him – for authenticity’s sake – two fingers, I’m afraid, up at Bath and north-east Somerset’s No Alcohol in Public policy. A resident got highly annoyed and told us to leave so we spent an hour or so hanging around outside down-at-heel pubs and clubs. As I had previously, I whispered to a few guys that I was looking for someone calling himself Raptor in connection with a job for a friend of mine – I reckoned I was too filthy to get any job myself – but just got blank looks so gave up. We’d seen nothing of Mallory that night either, not even when we returned and went round the back of the terrace where he lives to a small private car park. That’s where they jumped us.’
    â€˜Did anyone follow you back to the square?’ Greenway wanted to