3
Zack rose to his feet when the doorbell sounded, an action that required more effort than would normally have been the case because of his injuries, and because he was sitting on the floor, his furniture having been taken away to be repaired and reupholstered because of the damage done to it during the attempt on his life a few nights ago.
“Mr Wild? I’m Detective Inspector Martins.” The smartly-dressed coloured lady on the doorstep held up her warrant card.
“I’m Zack Wild,” he confirmed, giving the warrant card only the most cursory of glances. He could spot a fake a mile off, and he doubted a journalist with a phoney police ID would be there so soon. “How can I help?” He had a pretty good idea.
“I’ve been put in charge of the situation here,” Martins said. “If you don’t mind, I’d li
