‘He got off at Darlington,’ Jack McGurk told him from his chair in the corner of the office cubicle. ‘He strolled off the platform all nonchalant, with a rucksack over his shoulder, straight into a reception committee in the shape of two transport cops and an armed support team from the local force. They went on the assumption there was a firearm in the rucksack, and had him down in the ground in seconds. He’s being brought up here this morning.’ ‘Are they sending him back on the train with an escort?’ ‘No, he’s being driven up. The English are taking him as far as the border; I’ve got a car waiting for him there.’ ‘When do we get to interview him?’ Sammy Pye asked. His colleague shrugged. ‘As soon as I’m done with him, Sam, but I can’t tell you how long that’ll be. He may be your prime suspect, but he’s nailed on for the murder that I’m investigating, and the chief super says that gives me first crack at him. The drugs people will want to interview him as well, for sure, but they can wait.
