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fly over? You ain’t been to an FBI party, you ain’t lived my friend.’
    Tom dropped his cigar again, picked it up and attempted to puff. Then he banged his screen in an attempt to get the missing computer feed showing Phil.
    ‘I’m glad you mentioned Garcia because that’s what I wanted to talk about. Did I mention that Garcia has got a top London lawyer by the name of Foster? He’s a proper shark Tom and we need to be careful here because he knows every trick in the book. He’s taking a close interest in the kid we found at Garcia’s. He wants to make something of it. Have you any idea what that kid was doing at the guy’s house?’
    Tom burst out laughing. ‘Hey, is it true what I’ve heard – that the kid’s father is one of your undercover cops? I mean, c’mon Phil. What kind of an outfit are you running over there? For fuck’s sake . . .’
    ‘The kid? What was he doing at Garcia’s?’ Mac looked up. Over the top of his screen, he could see Phil Delaney was in the reception talking to his PA. Mac’s voice went up a tone, ‘Tom – please.’
    ‘OK, OK. All I can say is that we got a tip-off Garcia was in London and we know that tip-off came from Elena Romanov. You know, the mother – the drugs trafficker? We think she’s skipped town. My guess is—’
    But there was no time for Tom’s guess. Outside the office, Phil was laughing and patting the PA on her shoulder. Then he turned to walk to his office door.
    ‘Tom, gotta go. And Tom, this conversation never happened OK? Even I don’t know about it.’
    Mac pulled the plug on the PC which fell silent, then he re-plugged the machine so it rebooted and threw the notepaper over the camera into the bin. There was no time to get back to the window. Silently, he was relieved. He knew if he’d attempted to climb back up the rope to the office above, he would certainly have fallen to his death. Instead his only option was to crawl across the floor to a wall-length filing cabinet and climb inside, like an adulterous lover when the husband has returned. He pulled the door to.
    The office door opened.
    ‘What the fuck?’
    Footsteps no doubt moving towards the window.
    ‘Shazia – has anyone been in my office?’
    ‘No. Mac was here earlier but he said he’d come back. What’s the matter?’
    ‘Call security. There’s a rope hanging from the floor above.’
    The office fell silent. When he felt it was safe to do so, Mac peered out from his hiding place. The reception area outside was empty. A few minutes later, when Phil came back into the reception area with the rope and his PA returned with a team she’d quickly assembled to search the office, they found Mac seated there and the office door in front of them firmly closed. His grim faced superior gestured to him to follow into his office and told the other officers to wait outside while he spoke to his subordinate. When they were sat opposite one another, Phil broke the silence that followed by saying, ‘If I thought that little incident had anything to do with you my friend, you’d be so deep in the crap, you’d need a length of rope to climb out of it . . .’

Seven
    Mac devised a plan before he’d completely worked out why he needed one. In a tense meeting with his boss, in which he’d been questioned carefully about the incident with the rope, he’d managed to convince Phil that there was no way an almost-registered disabled man like himself could be swinging out of windows, four floors above the pavement, insisting, ‘I’m not Spiderman . . .’
    When Delaney had carefully checked his files, drawers and computer to make sure nothing was missing, he reluctantly let Mac go. ‘But be warned Mac. I’m sending this rope over to forensics. If I find evidence that you’ve been using it . . .’
    Mac stared at the rope that was lying on the desk in front of him. ‘That’s a waste of resources at a time when the force is tightening its belt.’
    ‘Not to me, it