“Matt?”

“He’s up behind that dumpster,” said Minogue. The three policemen watched her inch her way along the wall of the alley, the pistol grasped upright in her hands. A police siren sounded in the middle distance.

“He is not,” said Kilmartin. “It’s too bloody obvious. Isn’t it, Molly?”

Malone glanced at Minogue before answering.

“She’s probably better trained than we are,” he said. “At going up alleys after drug dealers carrying guns, like.”

She sprang away from the wall and took up a shooting stance behind the dumpster. Nothing.

“Told you,” said Kilmartin. “He’s done a bunk. Long gone.”

“Oh, oh,” said Minogue. Kilmartin strained to see what his friend and colleague Inspector Matthew Minogue had spied.

“On the ledge,” said Malone. “He must have climbed up.”

“He did on his arse climb up on any bloody ledge,” snapped Kilmartin. “Sure wasn’t he shot the once already? A fat lot of climbing… Oh, now I see him.”

“She was never trained to look up, I think,” said Minogue.

“Hoi,” Kilmartin called out. “Look out up there-what’s her name?”

“Karen,” said Malone.

“Karen! Look up, for the love of God!”

A shot rang out. A figure fell from the darkness overhead and landed in the dumpster.

“Smooth bit of work there,” said Kilmartin. “Into the bin with the bastard. Nice work, Karen. I thought your goose was cooked.”

“It wasn’t her plugged him,” said Malone. Kilmartin eyed him under a raised eyebrow.

“That a fact now? Well, who was it, if it wasn’t Karen herself?”

“There he is coming down the alley now.”

“Wait a shagging minute,” Kilmartin called out. “That’s the partner who got shot, the fella risked his life to save her! What the hell is he doing there?”

“He was only winged,” said Minogue. “He’s obviously a tough nut. See the arm hanging off him there?”