The sergeant replied with surprise and reluctance. ‘Yes. Yes. Of course, sir. In the cells.’ He leaned across the counter in a show of confidentiality. ‘Not that we haven’t had offers from other interested parties to take them off our hands, just like you warned us. I stonewalled ’em, of course. Referred them to you, sir. Seemed to work. But, sir, er … Not sure the prisoners are fit to be interviewed in the presence of a lady officer. Rough types. They resisted arrest, of course. And they’ve had an intensive interrogation. They’re resting at present. Getting ready for their day in court. Preliminary hearing at the Old Bailey. No one’s wasting much time over this, eh, sir? Knotting the rope already, you might say …’
Sandilands cut him short. ‘We’ll go through. Five minutes for each man. No more. You are holding them in separate cells?’
‘That’s right, sir. Watch out for the big one. He’s a nasty piece of work. The little ’un’s got no more fight in him. He’ll give no trouble.’ He summoned up a brute-faced copper with hands like ham shanks. ‘PC Kent has established relations of a sort with them. He’s got their number. Kent — take them through to see our Irish friends, will you? And watch out for the lady. And, sir, we’re saying five minutes, tops, with each. If Constable Wentworth can take as much as five minutes.’
They followed Kent through one of the six doors that gave access to the cells. After a great deal of flourishing with the keys and clanging of bolts, Joe entered a step ahead of Lily into the cell of the larger and more aggressive of the two prisoners.
The stench made him reel back. The small space stank of urine, blood, vomit and a disturbing chemical smell that made him retch. The gloom was disorienting. Somewhere in that fetid darkness a form moved slightly and uttered a groan. Focusing on the sound, Joe eventually made out the shape of a man sitting uncomfortably on a narrow metal bench. He was hunched over, clutching his stomach, and paid no attention to their entrance. Was this the assassin? It could have been anyone. His head was sheathed from chin to scalp in a thick layer of bloodstained surgical bandage. Someone had cut a hole around the nose and mouth to allow him to breathe.
With a gesture, Sandilands indicated to Lily that he was allowing her precedence and stood back a pace. Trying to keep her voice level, Lily introduced herself to this nightmare figure and asked: ‘Sean, will you show me your back, please?’
The figure growled and shrank further into the wall.
‘You’ll get no cooperation from him, miss,’ said Kent who was standing protectively at her side. ‘Bullet’s out if that’s what you’re bothered about. Taken away for evidence. The doc had to put him out cold to extract it. Ether it was, to get him to be still. That’s what you can smell. He’s been patched up good and proper. They’ll take him to the hospital when he’s heard his charges.’
The sudden roar from the bandaged head took everyone by surprise. A torrent of abuse in Gaelic poured out. Joe couldn’t understand a word but every one was unmistakably a curse.
Kent put a hand on Lily’s arm and she started at the touch. ‘It’s all right, miss. But I’m afraid that’s all you’re going to get from him. Better come away now.’