Substantial Threat by Nick Oldham

write the job off, but because he believed it was not as straightforward as it appeared, it meant that a team needed to be allocated to it at the expense of the triple shooting.
    Henry and Fleming were trudging up the steps in Blackpool police station because the lift was not working. They were making their way up to the canteen. Both men were starting to sweat, and the bigger, older and less fit Fleming was wheezing as he breathed. He was also whining about costs. It was a story Henry was familiar with and the words only just registered.
    â€˜There’s six ongoing murder investigations right across the county. I’m not saying they’re all labour intensive by any means, but we don’t really need two more.’
    â€˜Tell that to the murderers.’
    â€˜Yeah, right,’ Fleming snorted gruffly. ‘So obviously the shooting is going to take priority here.’
    At last they reached the sixth floor and stepped into the canteen, which was about to close for the evening. Using their charm they managed to wangle two mugs of coffee from the reluctant lady behind the counter.
    â€˜How do you want to play the fire job?’ Fleming asked.
    â€˜Run it as a full enquiry until it’s proved otherwise,’ Henry said defensively.
    Fleming shook his head. He looked pained. ‘Not enough people to go round.’ He pondered things for a few moments, rubbing his chin. ‘What about if you head up the shooting, then split your resources to look into the fire and see how it pans out?’
    â€˜I thought you were going to SIO the shooting.’
    â€˜Name only, name only. I want you to do it and as a sideline, use people as and when to look into the other job.’
    â€˜Okay,’ said Henry. There was no point arguing. The days had long since gone when every suspicious death was allocated a full team. Everything got prioritized these days and in these circumstances it was seen as far more important to catch someone who was dangerous enough to use a gun in public to shoot a man down, than to catch someone who may have killed someone in the confines of a council flat. Henry could not see the difference, but in a world where money counted, that’s what happened. It was not unusual these days for a pair of detectives to investigate a murder – a state of affairs that had long existed in the USA.
    Although Henry accepted the way of the world, he hated to see the police being driven solely by money and budgets. He believed the public did not get the service it deserved because of it.
    He squinted. ‘You want me to run both jobs at the same time? Is that what you’re saying?’
    â€˜Henry, one day you’ll make one hell of a fine detective with such a sharp mind.’
    The sex had been over within a minute. Ray Cragg, still hyper after the shooting, had almost dragged Jack Burrows up the stairs, tearing her clothes off as he went. She played the part too whilst disguising the shiver which ran through her. She led him into the bedroom and pushed him on to the bed before straddling him and letting her breasts flounder over his face.
    He bit and sucked at them greedily, biting her large, purple nipples so she gasped, not with pleasure, but with pain.
    â€˜You really have had some kind of day.’ She smiled lovingly.
    â€˜You wouldn’t believe it.’ He moaned then said, ‘I want to do it from behind.’
    â€˜Yeah, okay babe,’ she agreed.
    â€˜Like dogs,’ he added.
    As she slid off him and he took up his position behind her, she was glad he could not see the expression on her face.
    He rammed himself in and after only a very few hard, ruthless thrusts, he came, jabbing wildly in an orgasm all of his own.
    She pretended to climax, but all she felt was a cold, cold chill inside. She was relieved when he withdrew and slumped on the bed, exhausted.
    â€˜Yes, I know it’s my first day back at work, love, and I’m sorry, but I can’t