Blue Genes - By Val McDermid Page 0,81

a hit. But every week that goes by where money goes into Lovell's pocket instead of theirs is a week when the ratchet gets screwed a notch tighter. I don't know how far away desperation is for the likes of Collar di Salvo's lad, but I know some of the other players are really hurting."

Delia thumbed another cigarette out of the packet. "So Greater Manchester Police has to put a stop to Lovell on humanitarian grounds? Is that what you're saying?"

"Something like that. But I'm not talking GMP, I'm talking DCI Delia Prentice and a small handpicked team. If Lovell's been on the force this long, he must have a fair few in his corner, and I don't see how you can be sure who they all are. You need outsiders like you've got in the Regional Crime Squad."

Delia did the time-wasting thing that smokers do to buy some space; fiddling with the cigarette, rolling the lighter around in her hand, examining the filter for holes. "So what do you suggest?" she asked.

"An undercover operation?"

"Nice of you to volunteer."

I shook my head. "No way. I'm not sticking my head above the trench on this one. Remember, I'm the one who doesn't believe in private health insurance, and the waiting list for key organ transplants is too long for my liking."

Delia took another hit of nicotine then said, "Nerve gone?"

"Cheeky bastard," I growled. "My nerve's as sound as it's ever been."

"Really?" she drawled. God, I hate Oxbridge graduates. They learn that sarcastic drawl at their first tutorial and they never forget it. Those of us who grew up in the backstreets shadowed by the dreaming spires never got past the snarl.

"Yeah, really," I snarled. "You're the police, it's your job to catch criminals, remember?"

"Problem is, you're not bringing me any hard evi¬dence," Delia said.

"So mount your own undercover operation. Leave me out of it."

"It's hard for us, Kate. We don't have any way in to an undercover. We haven't got some tame club manager who's going to roll over and help us. And from what you've said, your contacts are not going to welcome Offi¬cer Dibble with open arms. They might well think it's better to deal with the devil they know. Whereas you ..."

"Call yourself my friend, and you want me to go up against an animal like Lovell with his army of hard cases?"

Delia shrugged. "You know you'll have all the backup you need. Besides, from what you tell me, there's been a lot of mouth but not a lot of serious action. Nobody's been killed, nobody's even had a serious going-over. Mr. Lovell's merry men seem to specialize in violence against property. When it comes to sorting people out, he seems to go for remarkably law-abiding means. He calls the police. I think you'd be perfectly safe."

"Gee thanks," I said.

Delia put a hand on my arm. Her eyes were serious. "I'm not asking you to do anything I wouldn't do myself. I'll handpick the backup team."

"You think that makes me feel any better? Everybody knows you're an even madder bastard than I am!" I pointed out bitterly, knowing I was beaten.

"So you'll do it?"

"I'll call you when I've got the setup sorted," I said resignedly. "I'm not a happy camper, I want you to know that."

"You won't regret this," Delia said, pulling me into a hug.

"I better not."

Delia paid for the KitKat on the way out.

I thought it was about time I showed my face in the office lest Bill get to thinking he could start the revolution with¬out me. With luck, he would still be busy showing Sheila the delights of the North West.

I don't know why I indulged myself with the notion that luck might be on my side. It had been out of my life so long, I was beginning to think it had run off to sea. When I walked in, Bill was sitting on Shelley's desk, going through a file with her. Given that I wasn't speak¬ing to Bill and Shelley wasn't speaking to me, it looked like an interesting conversation might be on the cards. "Kate," Bill greeted me with a cheerful boom. "Great to see you." And I am Marie of Romania.

"Hi," I said to no one in particular. "Has anything come for me from the Land Registry?"

"If you checked your in-tray occasionally, you'd know, wouldn't you?" Shelley said acidly. It probably wasn't the time to tell her I'd gone through it at one that morning. Not if I wanted to