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real need for antagonism on either side, Chief Constable. My only aim is to ensure that Monika comes out of this investigation covered in glory. I have a great deal of affection for her, you know, and she, for her part, is fond of me . . .’
    â€˜She despises you,’ Baxter said.
    â€˜You’re wrong about that. She is
very
fond of me – even if she doesn’t quite realize it herself. We have now worked together on several investigations, and—’
    â€˜You’ve never worked
together
,’ Baxter interrupted him. ‘You don’t
work
with anybody – all you ever do is
use
them.’
    â€˜And doesn’t it reflect well on Monika that I consider her worthy of using?’ Forsyth asked.
    â€˜When will these goons of yours from Special Branch be arriving?’ Baxter asked.
    â€˜They should be in Bellingsworth sometime this afternoon.’
    Baxter smiled, as a new thought – and one which he was sure would get right under Forsyth’s skin – occurred to him.
    â€˜They should be in Bellingsworth this afternoon,’ he repeated. ‘Isn’t that a bit like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted?’
    â€˜I have no idea what you mean,’ Forsyth said, though from the uncharacteristically defensive look which had come to his face, it was fairly plain that he did.
    â€˜I mean that you’re a day too late,’ Baxter said, starting to enjoy himself. ‘If you’d sent them up
yesterday
, they would have been able to protect Len Hopkins, your ally in the battle against the Red Menace – then none of us would have been faced with the problems we have now.’
    Anger blazed in Forsyth’s eyes for a split second, and then was gone.
    â€˜You’re quite right, of course,’ he agreed, as smoothly as ever. ‘Given the depth of feeling over this strike, it would have been advisable to give Mr Hopkins some protection. I made a mistake – but then we’re all only human, aren’t we?’
    â€˜I am, certainly,’ Baxter said. ‘But I’ve got serious doubts about you.’

SEVEN
    L en Hopkins’ body, bent at the knees and still frozen in rigor, had presented a challenge to the ambulance men attempting to balance him on the stretcher, and the problem had been further compounded by the fact that the doors on his terraced cottage had not been designed with awkwardly shaped corpses in mind. Eventually, however, they managed to slot the dead man into the back of the ambulance, and drive away.
    Dr Taylor stood on the pavement, watching the ambulance make its slow – almost stately – progress down the street.
    â€˜Just you wait until they’ve turned the corner,’ the doctor told Paniatowski and Meadows. ‘It’ll be a different story. Oh yes, indeed – then you’ll smell the burning rubber.’
    â€˜I seem to be missing the point,’ Paniatowski said.
    â€˜They’ll race me back to the mortuary,’ Taylor explained, climbing into his car. ‘You might consider that childish – and you’d be quite right – but that’s what they’ll do.’
    â€˜How do you know they’ll race you?’ Paniatowski wondered.
    â€˜Because since I’ve caught on to their little game, I’ve been really hammering the Jag, but so far they’ve still managed to get back first,’ the doctor said, firing up the engine. ‘But today – because the journey’s a little longer than usual – they just might have met their match.’
    â€˜About the post-mortem report . . .’ Paniatowski began.
    â€˜You’ll have it as soon as is humanly possible,’ Taylor promised, ‘and don’t you worry, I’ll stay within the speed limits until I leave the village, because unlike those two reprobates, I’m
responsible
.’
    He closed the car door, slid the Jaguar into gear, and pulled gently away from