Page 75 of Return Ticket

“That’s his name?” Gabriella asked, surprised.

“Yes, sorry, I forgot to tell you DS Archer found out his name during the course of his investigation.” Mr. Greenberg gave James a satisfied smile. “I am going to let the Commissioner know how pleased I am with the quality of the investigation into this,” he said. “It’s very heartening to know the Met takes threats to the Traffic Warden division seriously.”

Gabriella caught her lower lip with her teeth. Would they have, though, if she and James weren’t stepping out, as Liz called it?

“Of course,” James told him. “I’ve had bobbies keeping an eye out for him in this area since you called me about Tanner’s interaction with Miss Farnsworth earlier, but there’s been no sightings. I think he’s gone, but I’m going to get Miss Farnsworth’s statement at the Met, and then make sure she’s escorted home.”

“Good man.” Mr. Greenberg beamed.

James indicated the map on the wall. “I have to say how impressed I am by this, sir.” He stepped closer. “It really gives a great perspective on things.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Greenberg rocked back on his heels. “Helps me to see if there are problem areas.”

“The red are deaths?” James asked. “And the yellow?”

“The yellow are attacks on my wardens.” Mr. Greenberg tapped the pin on the street near Holland Park where Gabriella’s final confrontation with Tanner had occurred.

“Very helpful. Can I ask where you got the map? I would like to set something like this up for myself.” James pulled out his notepad, and Mr. Greenberg gave him the details.

When they walked out to the Wolseley, Gabriella thought James had made a friend for life with her boss.

When they were both inside the car, James turned to her. “Tell me.”

She knew Mr. Greenberg had not given him a lot of detail, but had assured James she was fine. She supposed if the tables were turned, she’d have been worried, too.

“You remember the electrified Land Rover?” she asked.

He gave a slow nod.

“While I was running from Tanner, I saw it. I rolled underneath it, and he got down on his haunches to grab me and pull me out, and put his hand on the door.”

James blinked. “Pow?” he asked.

“Pow.” She knew her smile was slightly evil. “Gave me time to roll back out, and leg it.”

“But the cyclist still came after you?” James must have heard that from Mr. Greenberg as well.

“Tanner was obviously not up to running after me, so he sent his lackey, but the bloke didn’t really seem to know about Tanner waving guns around or anything like that.” She recalled the surprise on the cyclist’s face. “He pled Tanner’s case again—for me to drop the charges against him—and when I told him it wasn’t up to me, that he’d threatened a police officer with a gun, he left, looking pretty confused.”

“Well, Tanner can’t stay in the wind forever. We’ve sealed his office with a notice telling him to turn himself in, and I think he’ll probably do that soon.” James wove carefully through the late afternoon traffic, and when he turned through the imposing gates of New Scotland Yard, she felt like she was entering a castle.

He parked, and when she reached for her door handle, he put a hand on her arm. “I want to hold you,” he said. His gaze lifted and focused beyond her shoulder, and he sighed. “But that will have to wait.”

He released her, and when she turned to look out of her window, she saw two men approaching.

“Wait for me to open your door,” James said, and there was something tight in his voice that held her in place.

It wasn’t a gentleman thing, she realized. He wanted to intercept the men coming toward the car. He got out the car and intercepted the men, blocking their view of her, in a studied, casual way that made Gabriella worried.

These men were dangerous. And he didn’t want them to see her.

She slid a little way down in the car seat, keeping her gaze on what was happening.

James was bigger than both of the men. He was bigger than almost every one she knew except for maybe George and Melvin, and even then, he and George were probably close to the same size.

Melvin was in a class of his own.

Whatever the conversation was, it wasn’t friendly. One of the men’s hands fisted by his sides, and he threw down his cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe as if he’d like to be doing the same thing to James’s face.

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