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answer.
    Why hadn’t they tossed the apartment of a man arrested for murder? It confirmed his suspicion, that nobody seriously suspected him of killing the guy in the alleyway. He’d been well and truly set up. Venn glanced at Corcoran, anger rising in him again.
    Bastard.
    Corcoran said, ‘You got what you asked for. A gun. Anything else?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Money?’
    ‘That’ll depend on what I find. Whether I have to take any expensive trips anywhere.’
    ‘Fair enough.’ Corcoran nodded at the cell phone on the table, the one he’d given Venn with Professor Lomax’s picture on it. ‘Keep that. There’s one number on the speed dial. It’s mine. Anything you require, any time you need to speak to me, call.’
    ‘Anything I require?’ said Venn.
    ‘Within reason.’
    ‘Manpower?’
    Corcoran shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s one thing we can’t provide. You’re on your own in that sense.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because,’ said Corcoran, ‘as I mentioned before, I don’t know who I can trust. I can’t very well send a bunch of cops or Federal agents into the field to assist you, when one or more of them might be involved in Lomax’s disappearance.’
    Venn pocketed the phone, and pushed the gun down the waistband of his jeans. It wasn’t loaded yet, so he wasn’t in any danger of blowing off anything sensitive. ‘When do I get some ammo?’
    ‘In a minute.’
    Corcoran spoke into his own phone, just a couple of words Venn didn’t catch. Then he said to Venn: ‘There’s one more thing. And you’re not going to like it.’
    The door opened and in came the same plainclothes guy who’d brought in the cell phone and later the Glock. In his hand he carried a metal object encased in black rubber, that resembled a bent-open ring.
    Venn knew immediately what it was. He’d seen them before, on more than one asshole he’d taken into custody as a cop.
    An electronic monitoring device, of the kind used to track the movements of a convicted sex offender.
    The man came over behind the table and knelt at Venn’s feet. Venn admired the guy’s cool. He was taking a hell of a risk, getting that close to Venn’s boots. The man pulled the leg of Venn’s jeans free from the boot and fitted the tag round his lower right shin. Then he snapped it into place, ratcheting it tighter until the fit was snug but not uncomfortable.
    Though it would probably itch like hell later.
    The guy straightened up, nodded to Corcoran, and walked out without glancing at Venn.
    ‘Insurance,’ Corcoran said, as if he’d been asked. ‘Thanks to the wonders of GPS, we’ll know exactly where you are at all times. So if you did happen to decide to skip town, we’d be all over you like a rash. Wherever you are in the world.’
    Venn shifted his feet under the table. The added weight on his right leg felt unfamiliar, but he’d get used to it.
    He stood up.
    ‘Let’s get this over with,’ he said. He held out his hand. ‘I need those bullets.’
    ‘At the door, Joe,’ said Corcoran. ‘I’ll walk you out.’
    He led Venn down a series of institutional corridors, lit by sputtering fluorescent ceiling tubes. Nobody seemed to be about. Eventually they reached a featureless room, with a door that presumably led to the street outside, judging by the view through the window next to it. Some kind of unofficial exit from the station. 
    There were no cops in the room, but the guy from earlier, who’d brought the things in to Corcoran, was waiting. He dropped a handful of 9 mm bullets into Venn’s palm, and handed him two more ammo clips. Venn filled up the magazine and put the spares in his jacket pocket.
    ‘Do I get a ride?’ he said to Corcoran.
    Corcoran shook his head. ‘No. You’re on your own from now on.’
    ‘Except for the ankle bracelet.’
    ‘That’s right.’ Corcoran handed him a manila packet. ‘Everything we have on Professor Leonard Lomax is in here. Read it, memorize it, and then destroy it. Don’t let