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tirade, nodding all the while.
    ‘ It does help,’ he added, ‘when you’re shafting the Chief
Constable at the same time.’
    Crosby’s eyes narrowed. ‘We don’t know if that’s true. Let’s
turn some of that rumour into hard fact before it’s too late. We
don’t want this investigation falling apart round our ears. We’ll
need to move fast. Can I leave it to you, FB?’
    FB nodded.
     
     
    McClure picked up Donaldson from his central Manchester hotel
paid for by the FBI - at ten-thirty that morning. Both men looked
haggard through lack of sleep, but at least McClure had had the
advantage of spending the night in his own bed with his own
warm-arsed wife to spoon up to.
    It had gone three when Donaldson had clambered into a bed
which was cold and uninviting despite the plushness of the room. He
missed having someone to get to grips with in the dark hours. In
fact, he had missed someone for three years. Ever since his wife
had disappeared with a beat cop from Fort Lauderdale who worked
horrendous hours yet came home every day. Donaldson didn’t really
blame her. If he made it home once a week it was an occasion. He
was thankful there were no children to worry about.
    ‘ Put a name to that face yet?’ McClure asked as the agent
slumped beside him.
    ‘ Can’t say I have,’ sighed Donaldson, ‘but I’m sure I’ve seen
it before ... in the Corelli file...’ He thought hard, screwing up
his face. ‘Or a bar somewhere. . . I dunno. Anyway, I’m going to do
an ET.’
    ‘ A what?’
    ‘ You know - phone home,’ Donaldson explained.
    ‘ Oh, right,’ said McClure bewildered.
    ‘ I’ll have someone look through the photos for me. I’m sure
it’s from one taken in a restaurant or bar. It’s just tough that
we’ve hundreds of Corelli in fucking restaurants.’
    ‘ Actually I have an idea that might just help on that
score.’
    ‘ Whaddya mean?’
    ‘ Later, later,’ said McClure. ‘Just sit back and enjoy the
ride.’
     
     
    The gymnasium at Preston police station had been commandeered
as the murder incident room. Since the early hours, furniture and
equipment had been rolled in and placed on the canvas matting which
had been laid to protect the gym floor. Four HOLMES terminals (Home
Office Large/Major Enquiry System) were already up and running,
waiting for information to be fed into them; four more were
expected. Twelve phones had been rigged up. Desks were placed
around the room, all equipped with stationery and wire baskets and
a sign indicating who would be sitting there: Receiver, Allocator, Coordinator, Exhibits Officer etc ... and the wall ladders around the gym were
covered with whiteboards, blackboards and noticeboards.
    Two coffee machines had also been installed. It was going to
be a long investigation.
    The room was crowded for this initial briefing. There were
forty detectives drawn in from around the county, twenty-odd
uniform officers mainly from the Support Unit, some traffic cops, a
handful of civilians and three Coroner’s officers.
    Those present were subdued but expectant and raring to go.
Impatient too. After all, the first briefing at eleven had been
cancelled. Valuable time was being wasted.
    The atmosphere was quietly charged.
    Despite himself, Henry Christie couldn’t suppress a smile. He
leaned back on the wall and looked around the room. He’d worked on
many murders, been in this situation many times. Dying to get
going, get your teeth into it. Knowing that maybe, just maybe,
you’d be the one to feel the collar.
    Particularly this one. This was almost personal.
    His smile disappeared.
    Especially this one.
     
     
    Karen Wilde shuffled her notes into order, glancing through
them once more, collating all the salient facts. She knew all there
was to know so far, and she also knew exactly what she was going to
say in the briefing which was - she checked her watch - five
minutes away.
    She stood up and paced the office she’d taken over - a small
one on the third