28
While Nathan was at the morgue, fighting the distaste he felt at witnessing the tail-end of a post-mortem, Stephen Burke sipped at his pricey – but worth it – coffee and watched the door of the coffee shop. He had been there long enough to be nearly finished with his first cup, and thinking about ordering a second, when the door finally swung open to admit the man he was waiting for.
He lifted a hand to indicate where he was, and then settled back to study his guest. He had met Peter Silvester before, not often, but enough times to have a sense of what the man was like; because of that he was reasonably confident that he could get the result he was after from the hastily arranged meeting.
“Sergeant Burke,” Silvester said in greeting when he reached the table before getting straight d
