And did.

McDonald was astonished, said:

‘Thank you.’

The man beamed, said:

‘That’s the spirit that put the Great in Britain.’

McDonald asked:

‘Fancy a cup of tea, a bacon sarnie?’

Roberts and Porter were still at the hospital, a doctor approached, asked:

‘Who’s the ranking officer?’

He was looking at Porter, as if he knew it was him, so Porter, said:

‘That would be Chief Inspector Roberts here.’

The doctor was disappointed, sighed, said to Roberts:

‘We’ve got the bullet out and he will be okay, but we’re keeping him in Intensive Care for twenty-four hours, purely precautionary.’

Roberts let his chest relax, didn’t realise how tight he’d been holding himself, Porter said:

‘Thank Christ.’

The doctor asked:

‘Has his family been informed?’

Before Porter could speak, Roberts said:

‘We’re his family’.

The doctor thought, poor bastard, and Roberts asked him:

‘What about headaches?’

The doctor was puzzled, said:

‘He was shot in the back, I don’t think it will necessarily cause headaches.’

Roberts stared at him, said:

‘Not Brant. Me, my head is opening.’

The doctor paused, then:

‘You’ll find a pharmacy on the ground floor.’

And stomped off

Roberts said:

‘Pompous bugger.’

Porter said:

‘The superintendent hasn’t shown.’

Roberts said:

‘He doesn’t know.’

Porter couldn’t believe it, said:

‘I don’t believe it. Shouldn’t he be informed?’

Roberts was rubbing the front of his face, looking tired, said:

‘You’re so worried, you call him.’

Took a while to locate the superintendent, but eventually Porter was given his mobile number by a very irate secretary who cautioned: