Rafferty decided that he needed to get something to eat before digging into the files.

  He didn’t like Fletcher setting him up with this apartment, when he wasn’t sure he

  could trust him.

  He decided he had two choices. He could do the job and hope Fletcher was

  trustworthy, or he could abandon ship and do something else and hope his disgrace

  didn’t follow him around. He was sure the fallout from the trial was why he had been

  picked for this daft thing.

  And he didn’t know if he could get another job except as unskilled labor because of

  the papers following him around.

  The detective checked the kitchen and found no food before he left the flat. They had

  given him what he needed to prosecute their job, but they hadn’t set up the place as

  a residence.

  He went down to the street. The Rotten Unicorn was back the way he had come. He

  decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to go back there until he figured out who wanted

  to kill him.

  There were so many people who might want to do that.

  It might even include people who didn’t want him talking to Fletcher for whatever

  reason.

  That might be a list as long as his arm.

  Rafferty went the other way. He thought there were some open restaurants and clubs

  in that direction. A good dinner would help him think about what he wanted to do.

  Extralegal methods were things the government did to hide their involvement. Who

  was behind Fletcher? He doubted it was a one man show. Someone must have given

  permission to pursue this, and sealed it. Who had the biggest motive?

  Who had Mick Brown angered so much that the government had decided to toss out

  the rules? It didn’t fit with the general appeasement of Hitler that had happened.

  He had so many questions but knew that Fletcher would only tell him what he needed

  to know. And he didn’t need to know that much.

  And what he did need to know he could dig in and find out. That was what he did

  best.

  Rafferty found a small place taking up one corner of a shop. He decided that was as

  good a place to eat as anywhere.

  And the space was open so he could see anyone in a car rolling up to shoot at him

  again.

  That bothered him somewhat. The Unicorn was known as one of his places. Had they

  followed him there, and tried to kill him after his meeting, or were they following

  Fletcher first and happened to see him there?

  He saw a public phone. Maybe he should make a couple of calls before he got

  something to eat.

  Fletcher might not have made it home after the meeting. He should check on that.

  And he had one friend on the force he could call to get some help.

  Rafferty called the number Fletcher had given him. He might as well see if it actually

  worked.

  “Operator,” said the voice on the other end of the call. “Name?”

  “Rafferty,” said the detective. “Is Sir Laurence in?”

  “No,” said the Operator. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m checking on Sir Laurence,” said Rafferty. How much should he reveal to this

  unknown person? “There was a shooting not far from our meeting.”

  “Understood,” said the Operator. “I will make a safety check. Phone number?”

  “I am at a public phone at the Quin restaurant,” said Rafferty. He gave the listed

  number for the phone. “I expect to be here for an hour, before I move on.”

  “Understood.” The Operator hung up on him.

  Rafferty stared at the phone. So there was a third man, or woman, in the program.

  That was okay. Maybe they should use code words to avoid phone monitoring.

  He smiled at that.

  He called one of the people he thought he could trust still in the Met. The man

  probably didn’t want to talk to him. He needed information, and this was the fastest

  way he knew to get it.

  He needed something to work on to get to Brown. Maybe the shooter was the way to

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  go about that.

  At the least, a name would point him to someone he could question.

  “Hawley,” said the rough voice of his mentor. He was probably reading some case file

  and trying to suss out the details he needed to crack the case wide open.

  “It’s Rafferty, Inspector,” said Rafferty. He kept an eye on things around him. He

  didn’t want to be trapped in the phone booth. “I need your memory.”

  “I’m listening,” said Hawley.

  “I would like to know if there was anyone connected to Mick Brown that liked to

  shoot people from a car,” said Rafferty.

  “That’s most of them, Jimmy,” said the inspector. “The most prominent to my mind

  is Johnny Skillet.”

  “I thought the Scots had done for him,” said Rafferty.

  “They thought they had him pinned in a burning building, but they never found the

  body,” said Hawley. “They wrote him off as dead.”

  “So he could be alive,” said Rafferty. Hawley never accepted someone was dead until

  he had body and confirmation from someone, or teeth. “Who’s your second choice?”

  “Billy Bones,” said Hawley. “He’s still running loose. Never been picked up as far

  as I know.”

  “Thank you, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

  “What’s going on, Jimmy,” said Hawley. “Why the call in the middle of the night?”

  “I have a job,” said Rafferty. “I have been asked to look into a thing, or two. I’ll let

  you know when it’s over.”

  “This isn’t about the shooting near the Unicorn, is it?,” asked Hawley. “I know that

  is one of your favorite haunts.”

  “Everyone knows that,” said Rafferty. “I have to go. I’m expecting a phone call.”

  “Stay out of trouble, Jimmy,” said the inspector.

  “Don’t I always?,” said Rafferty. He hung up the phone. How did he make use of the

  information he had been given?

  He supposed he could talk to people who knew Bones. Maybe that would give him

  a way to make the shooter confess to his crimes.

  Driving around town and taking shots at people had to be stopped.

  He wondered what Fletcher expected him to do about all this. The costume and the

  files suggested that he wanted some kind of vigilante action committed on Mick

  Brown’s organization.

  And it looked like Mick Brown wanted him out of the way more permanently than

  making sure he had no authority to oppose him.

  Could Fletcher find Bones? That would save him some time if the knight had other

  resources that could be used.

  Rafferty ordered a small dinner from the restaurant while he waited for his call back.

  He ate with an eye on the door, and windows. If Fletcher had a leak, that leak would

  probably pass on where he was to whomever shot at him. If that happened, he had to

  be ready to move from where he sat.

  All the other people in the room would have to look out for themselves if something

  happened.

  Rafferty finished his meal as the phone began to ring. He walked over to the booth

  and answered the phone with a curt “yeah?”

  “Sir Laurence reports no problems,” said the Operator.

  “Thanks,” said Rafferty. “See if you can find a man named Billy Bones. I would like

  to talk to him soonest. I’ll call back in a few hours.”

  Rafferty hung up. He didn’t know if Fletcher had anyone out there who could search

  the city. He did know that he couldn’t search everywhere by himself. Extra eyes were

  necessary for the job.

  And he needed a car to get around. If he was expected to wear that costume in the flat,

  he needed a way to get across town without anyone noticing a man in a military suit

  and mask.

  Such a description would point constables at him if he went into action and started

  doing things frowned upon by the Crown. He wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line

  at the moment.

  It would feel good to execute street justice on his enemies, but he was better than that.

  A mask wouldn’t change who he was.

  Still, it was tempting to throw someone through a window like Hawley had done to

  one of the River Rats when he had first made detective. The inspector had caught the

  man trying to flee the scene while detectives and uniformed constables surrounded

  the place. The fling through the glass had been enough to settle the man down for

  manacles to be applied.

  Rafferty headed into the East End. There was one man he wanted to talk to that he

  shouldn’t. He already had the address from an old file. If he could catch the man at

  home, that would be fine enough.

  It was certainly against the Met’s policy for what he wanted to do to the man he was

  going to talk to at the moment. He had thought about letting things lie before talking

  to Sir Laurence. Now he wanted to see what he could do to shake the man up.

  He found the address and looked up and down the street. People roamed, but no one

  seemed to be watching him.

  Rafferty knocked on the door. He looked up at the windows. No lights came on.

  Was the man home?

  Rafferty knocked on the door again. Did he want to go in? Was it better if he waited

  outside? So far he hadn’t broken any laws. How much would that fly with his former

  coworkers?

  He knocked on the door again. He wondered where his accuser could be. Maybe he

  was at one of the local shops, pubs, or restaurants.

  Rafferty wondered if the man had left anything lying around that could incriminate

  him in something.

  Was he considering breaking the law? Did he really want to do this?

  Rafferty grimaced. He had to make up his mind. Was he ready to step outside the

  lines? Was he the man Fletcher wanted for his job?

  He punched a pane out of the front window on the left. He reached in and turned the

  lock. He raised the window and slipped inside. He turned on the lights with his sleeve

  covering his fingers.

  He found the resident in his bath. He shook his head. He had to get out of there before

  someone reported him. He turned the lights out and slipped out the front door.

  Bob Corklin had come forward and accused him of taking bribes to look the other

  way. A bank account had been submitted as evidence that something was going on.

  Only the fact that he hadn’t been identified by the bank officials had saved him from

  bribery charges.

  He had wanted to ask the man how much he had been paid to have the force turn on

  him as a crook.

  He couldn’t do that now. He grimaced as he went back to the Quin. He needed to

  report this as soon as he could. He was going to look guilty either way. He might as

  well try to have the machinery collect the evidence and hope he could refute it.

  Why had they killed Corklin? Was he about to refute his statement? Was it a way to

  put Rafferty further in a box?

  Had Fletcher’s people done it to insure his cooperation? He needed answers to his

  questions. Whom did he ask first?