Rafferty decided that he needed to get something to eat before digging into the files.


    He didn’t like Fletcher setting him up with this apartment, when he wasn’t sure he


    could trust him.


    He decided he had two choices. He could do the job and hope Fletcher was


    trustworthy, or he could abandon ship and do something else and hope his disgrace


    didn’t follow him around. He was sure the fallout from the trial was why he had been


    picked for this daft thing.


    And he didn’t know if he could get another job except as unskilled labor because of


    the papers following him around.


    The detective checked the kitchen and found no food before he left the flat. They had


    given him what he needed to prosecute their job, but they hadn’t set up the place as


    a residence.


    He went down to the street. The Rotten Unicorn was back the way he had come. He


    decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to go back there until he figured out who wanted


    to kill him.


    There were so many people who might want to do that.


    It might even include people who didn’t want him talking to Fletcher for whatever


    reason.


    That might be a list as long as his arm.


    Rafferty went the other way. He thought there were some open restaurants and clubs


    in that direction. A good dinner would help him think about what he wanted to do.


    Extralegal methods were things the government did to hide their involvement. Who


    was behind Fletcher? He doubted it was a one man show. Someone must have given


    permission to pursue this, and sealed it. Who had the biggest motive?


    Who had Mick Brown angered so much that the government had decided to toss out


    the rules? It didn’t fit with the general appeasement of Hitler that had happened.


    He had so many questions but knew that Fletcher would only tell him what he needed


    to know. And he didn’t need to know that much.


    And what he did need to know he could dig in and find out. That was what he did


    best.


    Rafferty found a small place taking up one corner of a shop. He decided that was as


    good a place to eat as anywhere.


    And the space was open so he could see anyone in a car rolling up to shoot at him


    again.


    That bothered him somewhat. The Unicorn was known as one of his places. Had they


    followed him there, and tried to kill him after his meeting, or were they following


    Fletcher first and happened to see him there?


    He saw a public phone. Maybe he should make a couple of calls before he got


    something to eat.


    Fletcher might not have made it home after the meeting. He should check on that.


    And he had one friend on the force he could call to get some help.


    Rafferty called the number Fletcher had given him. He might as well see if it actually


    worked.


    “Operator,” said the voice on the other end of the call. “Name?”


    “Rafferty,” said the detective. “Is Sir Laurence in?”


    “No,” said the Operator. “How can I help you?”


    “I’m checking on Sir Laurence,” said Rafferty. How much should he reveal to this


    unknown person? “There was a shooting not far from our meeting.”


    “Understood,” said the Operator. “I will make a safety check. Phone number?”


    “I am at a public phone at the Quin restaurant,” said Rafferty. He gave the listed


    number for the phone. “I expect to be here for an hour, before I move on.”


    “Understood.” The Operator hung up on him.


    Rafferty stared at the phone. So there was a third man, or woman, in the program.


    That was okay. Maybe they should use code words to avoid phone monitoring.


    He smiled at that.


    He called one of the people he thought he could trust still in the Met. The man


    probably didn’t want to talk to him. He needed information, and this was the fastest


    way he knew to get it.


    He needed something to work on to get to Brown. Maybe the shooter was the way to


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.go about that.


    At the least, a name would point him to someone he could question.


    “Hawley,” said the rough voice of his mentor. He was probably reading some case file


    and trying to suss out the details he needed to crack the case wide open.


    “It’s Rafferty, Inspector,” said Rafferty. He kept an eye on things around him. He


    didn’t want to be trapped in the phone booth. “I need your memory.”


    “I’m listening,” said Hawley.


    “I would like to know if there was anyone connected to Mick Brown that liked to


    shoot people from a car,” said Rafferty.


    “That’s most of them, Jimmy,” said the inspector. “The most prominent to my mind


    is Johnny Skillet.”


    “I thought the Scots had done for him,” said Rafferty.


    “They thought they had him pinned in a burning building, but they never found the


    body,” said Hawley. “They wrote him off as dead.”


    “So he could be alive,” said Rafferty. Hawley never accepted someone was dead until


    he had body and confirmation from someone, or teeth. “Who’s your second choice?”


    “Billy Bones,” said Hawley. “He’s still running loose. Never been picked up as far


    as I know.”


    “Thank you, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “I’ll see if I can find him.”


    “What’s going on, Jimmy,” said Hawley. “Why the call in the middle of the night?”


    “I have a job,” said Rafferty. “I have been asked to look into a thing, or two. I’ll let


    you know when it’s over.”


    “This isn’t about the shooting near the Unicorn, is it?,” asked Hawley. “I know that


    is one of your favorite haunts.”


    “Everyone knows that,” said Rafferty. “I have to go. I’m expecting a phone call.”


    “Stay out of trouble, Jimmy,” said the inspector.


    “Don’t I always?,” said Rafferty. He hung up the phone. How did he make use of the


    information he had been given?


    He supposed he could talk to people who knew Bones. Maybe that would give him


    a way to make the shooter confess to his crimes.


    Driving around town and taking shots at people had to be stopped.


    He wondered what Fletcher expected him to do about all this. The costume and the


    files suggested that he wanted some kind of vigilante action committed on Mick


    Brown’s organization.


    And it looked like Mick Brown wanted him out of the way more permanently than


    making sure he had no authority to oppose him.


    Could Fletcher find Bones? That would save him some time if the knight had other


    resources that could be used.


    Rafferty ordered a small dinner from the restaurant while he waited for his call back.


    He ate with an eye on the door, and windows. If Fletcher had a leak, that leak would


    probably pass on where he was to whomever shot at him. If that happened, he had to


    be ready to move from where he sat.


    All the other people in the room would have to look out for themselves if something


    happened.


    Rafferty finished his meal as the phone began to ring. He walked over to the booth


    and answered the phone with a curt “yeah?”


    “Sir Laurence reports no problems,” said the Operator.


    “Thanks,” said Rafferty. “See if you can find a man named Billy Bones. I would like


    to talk to him soonest. I’ll call back in a few hours.”


    Rafferty hung up. He didn’t know if Fletcher had anyone out there who could search


    the city. He did know that he couldn’t search everywhere by himself. Extra eyes were


    necessary for the job.


    And he needed a car to get around. If he was expected to wear that costume in the flat,


    he needed a way to get across town without anyone noticing a man in a military suit


    and mask.


    Such a description would point constables at him if he went into action and started


    doing things frowned upon by the Crown. He wasn’t sure he wanted to cross that line


    at the moment.


    It would feel good to execute street justice on his enemies, but he was better than that.


    A mask wouldn’t change who he was.


    Still, it was tempting to throw someone through a window like Hawley had done to


    one of the River Rats when he had first made detective. The inspector had caught the


    man trying to flee the scene while detectives and uniformed constables surrounded


    the place. The fling through the glass had been enough to settle the man down for


    manacles to be applied.


    Rafferty headed into the East End. There was one man he wanted to talk to that he


    shouldn’t. He already had the address from an old file. If he could catch the man at


    home, that would be fine enough.


    It was certainly against the Met’s policy for what he wanted to do to the man he was


    going to talk to at the moment. He had thought about letting things lie before talking


    to Sir Laurence. Now he wanted to see what he could do to shake the man up.


    He found the address and looked up and down the street. People roamed, but no one


    seemed to be watching him.


    Rafferty knocked on the door. He looked up at the windows. No lights came on.


    Was the man home?


    Rafferty knocked on the door again. Did he want to go in? Was it better if he waited


    outside? So far he hadn’t broken any laws. How much would that fly with his former


    coworkers?


    He knocked on the door again. He wondered where his accuser could be. Maybe he


    was at one of the local shops, pubs, or restaurants.


    Rafferty wondered if the man had left anything lying around that could incriminate


    him in something.


    Was he considering breaking the law? Did he really want to do this?


    Rafferty grimaced. He had to make up his mind. Was he ready to step outside the


    lines? Was he the man Fletcher wanted for his job?


    He punched a pane out of the front window on the left. He reached in and turned the


    lock. He raised the window and slipped inside. He turned on the lights with his sleeve


    covering his fingers.


    He found the resident in his bath. He shook his head. He had to get out of there before


    someone reported him. He turned the lights out and slipped out the front door.


    Bob Corklin had come forward and accused him of taking bribes to look the other


    way. A bank account had been submitted as evidence that something was going on.


    Only the fact that he hadn’t been identified by the bank officials had saved him from


    bribery charges.


    He had wanted to ask the man how much he had been paid to have the force turn on


    him as a crook.


    He couldn’t do that now. He grimaced as he went back to the Quin. He needed to


    report this as soon as he could. He was going to look guilty either way. He might as


    well try to have the machinery collect the evidence and hope he could refute it.


    Why had they killed Corklin? Was he about to refute his statement? Was it a way to


    put Rafferty further in a box?


    Had Fletcher’s people done it to insure his cooperation? He needed answers to his


    questions. Whom did he ask first?