Bryant told him. ‘It’s just until we get sorted out. Tell me, do you get many customers from the nightclub over the road?’
‘They come in here off their faces and order big breakfasts, then can’t eat them,’ said Alfie.
‘Ever get anyone in fancy dress outfits?’
‘At the weekends sometimes. Nurses, schoolgirls, vampires, blokes in gorilla suits—we had a bunch of people done up as a bathroom once. Pipes, a bidet, the lot.’
‘Anyone dressed as a stag?’
‘Stag? Oh, I get it, stag night. No. Hang on a minute.’ He went back to the kitchen and returned a minute later. ‘Yeah, the sous-chef saw some guy dressed as a stag a couple of weeks back. Furry coat, antlers, the works. Just stood outside here having a smoke.’
‘A bit of a nuisance, was he?’
‘Doesn’t sound like it. Why?’
Renfield snapped his phone shut. ‘You’re on. Rosa says she can get you into Camley Street right now for a few minutes because the office is closed, but she’ll take only one of you.’
‘That had better be me,’ said May. ‘Arthur, wait here. Perhaps you’re interested enough to put in that call to Faraday now. Sound him out about reopening the unit.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Meera.
‘If Arthur really can persuade the Home Office to back us, perhaps you should find out about the current availability of our former staff. Just refer them to me if they want to know about salaries. Start with Colin Bimsley.’
Meera grimaced. ‘Don’t make me call Colin, chief. He doesn’t need the encouragement.’
‘Meera, you’re not asking him on a date; this is business. Get cracking. Then round up Raymond Land and the others.’ May turned back to find Bryant staring happily at him. ‘ What?’
‘Nothing,’ said Bryant, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Ah, Mr Bryant, I was rather expecting you to call,’ said Leslie Faraday, who wasn’t thrilled about being disturbed at lunch, halfway through a bowl of canteen macaroni cheese. ‘There’s been some movement on your situation. After my conversation with your partner, I talked with Mr Kasavian. He’s not at all happy about the idea of re-forming the PCU.’
‘I imagine he’s even less happy about the idea of criminal gangs returning to an area that will become one of the main arrival points for the 2012 Olympics,’ said Bryant. ‘King’s Cross isn’t the only place undergoing a transformation. After the games, the Lower Lea Valley will become the largest urban park created in Europe for one hundred fifty years.’
‘So I am led to believe. The government expects international traffic through King’s Cross to become permanent, and that means even more overseas investment, public-private partnerships, that sort of thing. The Prime Minister is anxious to maximise the business opportunities afforded by the new Eurostar link, and as you know, it only takes one incident to swing the British press in the wrong direction, so—’
‘For God’s sake, Leslie, do stop waffling,’ cried Bryant, exasperated. ‘Is he going to bring us back or not?’
Faraday looked back at the phone and scowled. He had dropped macaroni cheese down his trousers. ‘Well, I don’t think we have any choice in the matter.’
‘Does that mean you are?’
‘There’s good and bad news. You can re-form the PCU as long as it’s on the strict understanding that this case is resolved very quickly and very quietly. No later than the end of next week. After that, it returns to Islington CID.’
‘I take it that’s the good news.’
‘Correct. The bad is that we won’t be able to officially recognise you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means no-one can know of your existence. You won’t have access to police information or technology. No identity intelligence, file sharing, fingerprint databases or forensic utilities of any kind. We simply can’t afford to let them know about you.’
‘You mean we’d have to operate with fewer tools than
‘They come in here off their faces and order big breakfasts, then can’t eat them,’ said Alfie.
‘Ever get anyone in fancy dress outfits?’
‘At the weekends sometimes. Nurses, schoolgirls, vampires, blokes in gorilla suits—we had a bunch of people done up as a bathroom once. Pipes, a bidet, the lot.’
‘Anyone dressed as a stag?’
‘Stag? Oh, I get it, stag night. No. Hang on a minute.’ He went back to the kitchen and returned a minute later. ‘Yeah, the sous-chef saw some guy dressed as a stag a couple of weeks back. Furry coat, antlers, the works. Just stood outside here having a smoke.’
‘A bit of a nuisance, was he?’
‘Doesn’t sound like it. Why?’
Renfield snapped his phone shut. ‘You’re on. Rosa says she can get you into Camley Street right now for a few minutes because the office is closed, but she’ll take only one of you.’
‘That had better be me,’ said May. ‘Arthur, wait here. Perhaps you’re interested enough to put in that call to Faraday now. Sound him out about reopening the unit.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Meera.
‘If Arthur really can persuade the Home Office to back us, perhaps you should find out about the current availability of our former staff. Just refer them to me if they want to know about salaries. Start with Colin Bimsley.’
Meera grimaced. ‘Don’t make me call Colin, chief. He doesn’t need the encouragement.’
‘Meera, you’re not asking him on a date; this is business. Get cracking. Then round up Raymond Land and the others.’ May turned back to find Bryant staring happily at him. ‘ What?’
‘Nothing,’ said Bryant, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Ah, Mr Bryant, I was rather expecting you to call,’ said Leslie Faraday, who wasn’t thrilled about being disturbed at lunch, halfway through a bowl of canteen macaroni cheese. ‘There’s been some movement on your situation. After my conversation with your partner, I talked with Mr Kasavian. He’s not at all happy about the idea of re-forming the PCU.’
‘I imagine he’s even less happy about the idea of criminal gangs returning to an area that will become one of the main arrival points for the 2012 Olympics,’ said Bryant. ‘King’s Cross isn’t the only place undergoing a transformation. After the games, the Lower Lea Valley will become the largest urban park created in Europe for one hundred fifty years.’
‘So I am led to believe. The government expects international traffic through King’s Cross to become permanent, and that means even more overseas investment, public-private partnerships, that sort of thing. The Prime Minister is anxious to maximise the business opportunities afforded by the new Eurostar link, and as you know, it only takes one incident to swing the British press in the wrong direction, so—’
‘For God’s sake, Leslie, do stop waffling,’ cried Bryant, exasperated. ‘Is he going to bring us back or not?’
Faraday looked back at the phone and scowled. He had dropped macaroni cheese down his trousers. ‘Well, I don’t think we have any choice in the matter.’
‘Does that mean you are?’
‘There’s good and bad news. You can re-form the PCU as long as it’s on the strict understanding that this case is resolved very quickly and very quietly. No later than the end of next week. After that, it returns to Islington CID.’
‘I take it that’s the good news.’
‘Correct. The bad is that we won’t be able to officially recognise you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means no-one can know of your existence. You won’t have access to police information or technology. No identity intelligence, file sharing, fingerprint databases or forensic utilities of any kind. We simply can’t afford to let them know about you.’
‘You mean we’d have to operate with fewer tools than
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