At the Saddlers Arms

Redbourne held court like an old-fashioned Mafia godfather. Bellamy and Baker paid him due deference, without losing face in front of McBride and WingCo. In fact, Baker's apparent ebullience allayed some of their anxieties. Redbourne grinned at him.

"Looks like those boys of yours have dug up a right hornets' nest at the docks, Baker. You must be proud of them! Soon get your shooter, I'd guess. One of the Bristol mob, so I heard."

"So it seems, Cantwell did a bloody good job of destabilising the smugglers. They had to get rid of him. Thank the Lord, they didn't pull it off. Even so, he and his wife have had a pretty damn time."

"I'll have to send them off on a little holiday, just to say a 'thank you' from the good folk of Starmouth. What do you think?"

Bellamy broke in, "Very good idea, we owe Cantwell something, at least. So, Clive", he smiled at Baker benignly, "You're pleased with the way things are progressing, are you? No more charging up blind alleys, the way Inspector Temple was won't to do?"

"Temple has been very compliant. The Cantwell business shook him up. He soon realised that the problem lay down at the docks, just as I'd said all along. He's leading the investigations down there."

"No more snooping round my office then?" Redbourne interposed.

"Certainly not! The only reason he'd come to see you would be to place a bet." Baker laughed awkwardly and McBride joined in. "No, I don't think you or the Wing Commander, or you Doctor McBride, have any need to worry about Inspector Temple's sleuthing. He is fixated on the illicit drugs and alcohol haul at the docks. He's even brought in some of the traders who were making a mint out of the stuff. Now he's got them under pressure, we'll soon find the gunman."

"Well then, that calls for a little celebration." Redbourne left and went to the bar bringing back a bottle of malt whisky and a barrel of ice. "Just hope this wasn't part of the contraband, gents, or we'll have some red faces at the County Council and Police Headquarters."

Baker and Bellamy left after one drink. The relief that both men felt was obvious to everyone. Their drive back to Starmouth would be far pleasanter than the drive out.

"Right, boys, let's have another." Redbourne passed the bottle round winking at Steele who had remained silent near the window. "Have a glass, Ted. You bloody deserve one." Redbourne sat back, a catlike smile of satisfaction on his face. "Well, after the little local difficulty we experienced, I think I can now say that the heat has been turned off us. Yep, well and truly turned off. So much so, in fact, that we're going to be running Midnight Boy in the big race at Exeter on Saturday week. I suggest you place your bets early. You'll get a bloody good price. I may even tip you the wink about 2 or 3 other races on the card, nearer the time."

"Are you sure the heat's off, as you say?" McBride asked. "I nearly lost all my latest consignment of drinomyl, when the docks were being taken apart..."

"But you bloody didn't, did you? Stop whining, Sunshine." Redbourne mellow mood had gone as quickly as it had come.

"No, but ..."

"No buts, no bloody buts, doc. You just do what you're flaming told and you'll get your rewards." He threw back the remains of his glass. "And you, WingCO, any comments to make?"

"No, we're more than happy." He lied convincingly.

Redbourne laughed and shook his head. Then he got up. "You two ain't got no balls, that's your problem. By the time we're done, you'd better get some." He laughed then he and Ted Steele left.

WingCo picked up the bottle and poured another glass for him and for McBride. "We've got ourselves into some fine company, doc."

"Hopefully the end is in sight. After a month or two, I'm hoping to extricate myself from this."

"Easier said than done, my old son, easier said than done." WingCo shook his head ruefully at his own words of wisdom. He wasn't sure exactly what he would tell Judy when he got back to the Blandford.