“Back from vacation,” Jerry noted, welcoming me with a raise of his mug. That led to questions about where I’d been, and I spent a pleasant quarter of an hour describing my fishing trip.

“Wish I could get up there,” a sad-eyed guy called Oisin remarked. “I’ve been working weekends since New Year’s. Going up midweek ain’t the same.”

“Switch shifts,” somebody told him.

“No point. The wife works weekends too. If I took a weekend off without her, she’d think I was doing the dirty.”

“Women don’t understand fishing,” Mike agreed. “I went when I was younger. Every time I came back, my girl went through my stuff, looking for evidence. Got sick of it in the end, gave up the fishing. Should have given up her.”

We all muttered and spent a few silent seconds reflecting on the ways of women. My coffee and toast arrived and I tucked in. I always started the day on a light meal.

“Anything happen while I was away?” I asked.

“A couple of new boys started,” Jerry informed me. “Been showing them the ropes.”

“Tasso and Weld are at it again,” Mike added. Ford Tasso was The Cardinal’s right-hand man. Used to be commanding officer of the Troops. Frank Weld replaced him several years ago but Tasso continued to think of the Troops as “his men” and was constantly criticizing Frank’s handling of them. I had sympathy for Frank but I liked Tasso and had to admit that life had been more interesting when he was head honcho.

“What’s it this time?” I asked.

“Some broad was killed in the Skylight last Friday,” Jerry told me. “Wasn’t authorized. The Cardinal’s furious. He chewed out Tasso, and Tasso chewed out Frank. The two have been screaming at each other all weekend. Tasso’s saying nobody would have gotten past the Troops when he was in charge. Frank’s going on again about the security arrangements at the Skylight.”