Vixen

4

Around the table were Porter Nash, PC McDonald, Brant, assorted plain-clothes officers and, at the top, Chief Inspector Roberts. One of the detectives asked:

‘What’s the PC doing here?’

Roberts looked to Brant who gave a lazy smile, said:

‘You’ll be wanting tea, coffee…’

The guy unsure, glanced round for help, none was forthcoming so he said:

‘Yes, sure… ‘course.’

Brant nodded at McDonald, said:

‘There’s your tea-boy.’

A round of sniggers and McDonald glared at Brant who winked. Roberts coughed, then:

‘Okay, settle down. We’ve got a bomber and according to the Bomb Squad, we’re dealing with an amateur. Which is not to say people might not get hurt. In fact, with them, it’s more dangerous than professionals as they don’t know what they’re doing. I want blanket door-to-door interviews, computer printout of any individual with any connection to dynamite or blasting, enquiries to building sites to see if any explosive’s been stolen. Get out on the street, get me something. Any questions?’

Porter put up his hand, asked:

‘What’s the deal on the money demand?’

‘There’s no deal. The Super says no payment.’

Porter raised his eyebrows, said:

‘Then we can expect another blast.’

‘Not if we catch them first, okay? Now let’s get moving. Sergeant Brant, a word please.’

As they filed out, Brant said to McDonald:

‘Mug of tea, two sugars… oh, and a wedge of danish… that’s a good boy.’

After they’d gone, Roberts shut the door, said:

‘The Super doesn’t want you in on this.’

Brant looked round the room, studied the range of ‘No Smoking’ signs then pulled out his Weights, fired up, blew a cloud at them, answered:

‘So, what else is new?’