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“Why don’t we run the bastards in?” Reilly asked.
“It’s a bloody good idea, Sean, but we don’t have the room or the manpower, and I doubt we could make anything stick. No, I think we need the softly, softly approach first. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll run the bastards in no matter how small the station is.”
Gardener was about to speak again when the door opened and Gary Close limped in, obviously in tremendous pain.
“Is everything okay, Gary?” Gardener asked.
Close dropped into a chair. “I’m okay, sir. Some days are worse than others, is all.”
“In what way?”
“The doc says my leg’s still knitting together, and while it’s doing that, it might give me some real gip.”
Gardener suspected that Gary was about to say more, but instead winced. He reached down and rubbed the affected part of his leg.
“Has he given you anything?”
“Yes sir, but I don’t like taking ’em.”
“Maybe you should, especially when it’s this bad. You certainly look like you could use some of it now. When did you last take any?”
“A couple of days ago, sir. But it’s worse today than it has been for a long time.”
Gardener glanced at Cragg. “Maurice, would you fetch him a glass of water, please?”
While the desk sergeant did as he was asked, Gardener spoke to the young PC again. “Have you been working a night shift?”
“No, sir. Mr Cragg let me go a lot earlier than usual.”
“How’s your mum?”
Close seemed to brighten up with that question. “She’s doing fine, sir. I spoke with Mr Sinclair this morning. He said she’s had a really comfortable night, and he thinks she’s responding to the treatment.”
That surprised Gardener after everything he’d heard. He would have to bring the subject up in the presence of Robert Sinclair.
“That’s great news, Gary. Have you been to see her?” Maurice Cragg returned with a glass of water.
“No. Mr Sinclair said she was sleeping, and it was best to let her rest.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, as I’m sure we all are. With that in mind, I’d like you to take this ‘Nurse Willing’ card, continue your research and see if you can find out which board game these cards are from.”
Gardener reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the pad with the registration numbers of the cars parked at the Bursley Bridge train station.
“I want someone to chase up these cars and their owners, and take statements from them. Colin Sharp is at the pub in town at the moment getting a list of names and addresses of their paying guests. I also want a couple of you over there on house-to-house inquiries.
“Thornton, Anderson, you two continue with what you were doing. Go and speak to the person who runs the computer shop, see what you can find out. Take the pictures of the cards with you.
“Benson, Edwards, can you go and talk to Iain Ross and get his opinion on everything we’ve found?
“Sean and I are going to speak to Robert Sinclair today. We need a line on these implantable things that keep popping up. And we also intend to go to Ronson’s office and find out why he’s not there.”
Gardener requested Reilly organize photocopies of the cards and the pumps for the officers to take with them. A few minutes after he left, Dave Rawson entered the room.
“Sir, I think you ought to take a look at these.”
“What are they?”
Reilly returned, munching a couple of biscuits.
