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drugs away, while the other checked round the house for any solid fuel heater or fire to prevent the disposal of them by incineration.
    At the same time, the other four members of the team, DCI Gardiner, Sergeant Galbraith, another WPC and a PC dog handler with an excitable spaniel, who began to bark, took up positions outside the front door of the house, and began a barrage of knocking and yelling, ‘Police. Open up. Police. Come on.’
    Gloria Swithenbank jumped to her feet. Her mouth tightened; her eyes glowed like two pieces of coke in a furnace.
    â€˜Mercy me!’ she bawled. ‘What do you want?’
    â€˜Police,’ Angel said, and held up his ID and an A4 sheet of letterhead with typing on it.
    â€˜Police? What police? What on earth is happening?’
    â€˜Mrs Gloria Swithenbank?’ Angel asked.
    â€˜Yes. What the hell is going on?’
    â€˜I am a police officer. I have a search warrant. How many people are there in the house?’
    An elderly lady was sitting on the settee facing the television, her mouth wide open in surprise.
    â€˜What is it, Gloria?’ she said and began shaking.
    Angel called across to her. ‘It’s all right, love. We’re the police.’
    â€˜What are you looking for? I haven’t committed any crime,’ Gloria Swithenbank said.
    â€˜How many people are in the house?’
    â€˜Just me and my mother. Look, you’re frightening her.’
    â€˜What’s her name?’
    â€˜Gladstone. Alice Gladstone.’
    Angel called across to her again. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Gladstone. We’re just looking for something.’
    He turned to WPC Baverstock and made a signal to go to the old lady and attend to her.
    The two men with rifles bustled noisily into the room.
    â€˜Every room checked, sir. No attics and no cellars,’ one of them said.
    Angel nodded.
    There was still the racket from outside.
    Angel went to the front door. The key was in the door, so he turned it and let DCI Gardiner and the others in. They crowded into the room.
    Gloria Swithenbank glared at them.
    â€˜What’s this all about?’
    DCI Gardiner made his way up to her and said: ‘You must be Mrs Gloria Swithenbank.’
    She turned to him and sniffed. ‘What if I am?’
    â€˜We have reason to believe that these premises are being used for the illegal distribution of Class A drugs,’ he said. ‘Do you want to tell me where they are?’
    She pulled an astonished face, shook her head, put her hands on her hips and said: ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    â€˜Very well,’ DCI Gardiner said calmly, then he turned to the raiding party and allocated an area of the house and garden to be searched by them. Angel was teamed up with Sergeant Galbraith to search the upstairs two bedrooms, bathroom, landing and staircase.
    Angel suggested they start in the bathroom and began to make his way up the stairs followed by WPC Baverstock and the other WPC, who were escorting a protesting Gloria Swithenbank and her mother to a bedroom for a body search.
    Angel found himself on the bathroom floor, where he unscrewed the chromium-topped screws that were holding the plastic boxing round the underside of the bath. He took the boards away; all he found was dust and fluff.
    The dog handler had let his excited spaniel off the lead and given him the run of the house, carefully following him round. The dog rushed into the bathroom, looked round it, wagged its tail, sniffed along the carpet down the side of the bath then looked away, disinterested. The handler pointed under the washbasin. The dog went under it, sniffed, wagged its tail and came straight out.
    Galbraith removed a mirror over the bathroom sink, found nothing and screwed it back. Angel and Galbraith together pulled up fitted carpets to see if any floorboards were loose or had been recently disturbed, looked for any fresh