lie be the man seen in the Mitsubishi? Whoever it was got clipped by a bullet. We now have a match from the bullet and from the jeep. He might even be quite badly wounded—we don't know—but the main query is, if this was the kingpin drug dealer, why return? If he is the money behind Julia, then he could easily live a life of luxury and remain undetected. We also, to date, have no verification as to who exactly owned the Mitsubishi."Cunningham stood up, then sat back down, folding her arms. "Why, if you think he's here, would he want to score from a shithole drug dive?""Maybe he didn't want to score. Maybe there was something inside that drug squat that he wanted.""Like what?" "I don't know. Our big loose end is we still do not know who wasinside that squat. We've been tracing all the owners of the vehicles, and the prints, but they're small fry. We don't have any that would give us a possible reason." Anna could feel the room tense, the officers listening and making notes for themselves.She crossed back to the incident board. "The link is, I believe, Donny Petrozzo. We know he was a smalltime drug dealer, so he would maybe know the guys dealing in the squat." She hesitated; this was all supposition. "What if Donny knew Alexander Fitzpatrick? For us to get confirmation of this, we'll have to go way back into his background and records. In one of Donny's pickups at the various airports, did he collect Fitzpatrick? He would only be in this country for something big, or emotional—which brings me back to Julia Brandon.""Wait a minute." Cunningham shook her head. "Would someone like Fitzpatrick use a lowlife like Donny Petrozzo? I don't think so. I'm really not going along with the suggestion that a man wanted on every country's lists is going to drop into the UK and then hire a smalltime guy like Petrozzo.""Maybe he had no option," said Phil Markham.Anna felt the team was backing her theory, but Cunningham wasn't. She certainly made as much clear when she called the briefing to a halt, requesting Julia Brandon be brought in that afternoon. She gave out assignments to various officers to run a final check on all the license plates; she would put the pressure 011 the labs to come up with something they could work on. She wanted Frank Brandon's VW traced and she wanted to know who owned the Mitsubishi that Donny Petrozzo's body was found in—the same jeep as seen at the drug squat. They seemed to be treading water; she gave them a short sharp lecture to all pull their socks up and to return to base for another briefing that evening.Anna went back to her poky office, and decided to use the rest of the morning to check out Donny s diary.Phil Markham knocked and entered, closing the door. "She's weird, you know. Why sit on everything you just said?""Maybe because it's just supposition?""But what if it isn't? We know Donny dealt in cocaine and grass toanyone that wanted it. He had to score, so it would make sense that he used that drug squat.""We've not put him in there yet, though," Anna replied. "We do have his car license number plate, listed by Jeremy Webster, but not on the night of the murder.""That fucking lab is really dragging its heels. I've been on to them and so has the rest of the team.""Yeah, well, they are a bit snowed under.""You can say that for the autopsy report as well. Donny Petrozzo was found how many days ago—and they still can't give us anything. The only big move we got was you finding that bullet, and Petrozzo s body. Surely we should know by now who owns the Mitsubishi?""They say it's got stolen license plates.""Right. We're running around like headless chickens."Anna leaned back in her chair. "I think Julia Brandon has the answers to a lot. 1 mean, look how much money she's got. No way does she match up with Frank.""Cunningham's got me checking out A and E's at the local hospitals for anyone coming in with a bullet wound.""You may get lucky.""I doubt it. If you've got a load of cash, you go to a private doc in Harley Street." He put on a posh, upper-crust voice. "Out shooting; just got clipped instead of the ruddy pheasant."Anna laughed."You want a drink at lunchtime?"She shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm on the visit later to Julia Brandon's sister. I've got to schlep all the way out to Oxfordshire but I'm quite looking forward to it.""Another time, then.""Okay."Phil grinned and winked. "Good work, Travis. You're keeping us all on our toes."Phil left and Anna went back to Donny Petrozzo's diary. Donny listed pickups, drops, deliveries, and functions; she started to see some kind of code by certain names. There were black dots—nothing else,just dots—which coincided with times he drove Paul Wrexler and Mark Taylor. Both, she knew, scored from Donny. The dots were also alongside entries for various other names; then sometimes a square with a dot inside. She plowed on, page after page, until she reached eight months ago and saw the name and initials of Frank Brandon.FB was used about four times a week for long-distance drives and airports, hauls that Donny obviously didn't want to be bothered with. Then, eight months ago, Donny had four Heathrow airport trips in one day. FB took two and he took the other two. Beside the last one, Donny had done something that he hadn't on any other page: put a red ring around Flight 002 BA Miami. The red ring was deep, as if he had pressed the pen into the paper hard.Before Anna could continue reading, someone tapped on her door and DC Pamela Meadows popped her head around it. "We have a possible connection for you regarding Donny Petrozzo and Alexander Fitzpatrick.""You do?""Yes. It's not like they were buddies or anything like that, and maybe they never even met, but previous to his other charges, Petrozzo was sentenced for burglary at the Old Bailey in 1979.""Go on?""Well, Alexander Fitzpatrick was being tried in court one, for drug trafficking after a massive raid: twenty million quid's worth.""You're kidding me!""No. Fitzpatrick jumped bail and has been on the run ever since. Petrozzo served a few years and then went straight for seven years, before he was picked up again for fencing stolen property and got an eighteen-month sentence—"Anna interrupted. "Wouldn't Fitzpatrick have had to give a blood test?""I don't think so. I can check, but there is nothing on record about that. Back in 1979, they were not even aware of DNA; it was before the Holmes database. But, like I said, it is a possibility that Donny would have crossed paths with Fitzpatrick. Added to that, there was a lot of press and photographs. He was called the 'Hippy Drug Baron.' "Anna nodded her thanks and Pamela left her office. She opened up the Web site again to look at the pictures of Alexander Fitzpatrick. Would someone be able to recognize him after such a length of time? She stared at the photographs and then closed her eyes, trying to imagine what he would look like now: hair white or gray, thinner, older. The size of him would be a giveaway—six feet four.Cunningham tapped on her window and peered between the blinds. "Interview room two. Julia Brandon's here with a solicitor." Anna opened her office door."She's got Simon Fagan with her. You know who he is?" "No." "Top-notch, hard-nosed solicitor from the most expensive firm in London. He's a real bastard, so we won't get much joy, but that doesn't mean we won't try. Okay, let's go."The interview room was bare and the green walls gave a chill to the atmosphere, as did the single light bulb hanging over the table. The only furniture was a Formica-topped table and four chain. The tape recorder and video camera were on a shelf, ready for use.Simon Fagan was a tall, elegant man, with dark receding hair and a small toothbrush mustache. He had dark, liquid brown eyes, expressionless; his face was tanned, but his hands were not. Anna suspected he was probably a morning gym-and-sunbed client!Cunningham introduced Anna and gave a brittle smile to Julia, who looked stunning in a light fawn leather suit with a cashmere sweater. Her hair was loose, swinging in a silky sheet that she constantly brushed aside with her manicured hands. She was wearing her large square-cut diamond ring, with a diamond eternity ring, and her Carrier watch was the new diamond-cluster style with a thin black strap. She wore little makeup but her full lips were a pale coral shade of gloss. She was a very beautiful woman, more so today than before."Shall we get down to why you have, to my mind, been harassing my client, who, as you must be more than aware, is still deeply distressed by the death of her husband," Fagan began.Cunningham pressed her back against the hard chair, but did not fold her arms. "By all means, Mr. Fagan. As you are obviously aware, we are simply asking Mrs. Brandon to assist us in our inquiries into the murder of her husband."Fagan nodded but remained silent."Firstly, we have been unable to discover a marriage license issued between your client and the victim."Fagan clicked open his briefcase and took out a brown manila envelope. He withdrew a license issued on the Isle of Man and passed it across to Cunningham. The latter showed not by a flicker that this had taken the wind out of her sails. She calmly checked over the document and then passed it to Anna, who glanced down at the date and recorded it in her notebook. It was dated eight months ago.Fagan again held a pause that was as cold as the room."Do you own a black Mitsubishi jeep, registration—"Before Cunningham could finish, Fagan interrupted her and said that Mrs. Brandon owned a Mercedes convertible and a Range Rover. He produced more documents from his shiny briefcase; it was as if he enjoyed snapping it open and closed."Mrs. Brandon, have you ever seen this vehicle parked on or near to your property?" Cunningham passed her a photograph of the Mitsubishi."No.""Your late husband owned a pale green VW Golf. Have you seen that vehicle recently?""No. I wasn't aware that he owned one.""But you must have seen this Mercedes-Benz?"Again a photograph was passed to Julia; she glanced at it and then shrugged. "I may have seen one of these, but not parked at my house.""Your husband used this car.""Perhaps that was before I knew him," she said softly."Have you ever seen this man?" It was a photograph of Donny Petrozzo."No. No, I haven't.""Do you rent a garage in Wimbledon?" "I told you about that garage!" Julia said irritably." Yes, I rented it, not for myself, but for Frank. I never even went there. I park my own cars at the house. They are inside the garage at the moment, as Mr. Fagan drove me here."Cunningham leaned forward. "Could you tell me how you met Frank Brandon?" "1 advertised for a chauffeur and he answered the advert.""Could you give me details of this advertisement, and when and where you placed it?"Julia sighed and said that it had been in the local paper and in