Nightmare by Stephen Leather

then went through to his office.
    Jenny followed him. ‘Come on, Jack. Details.’
    ‘It’s no biggie,’ he said, sitting down at his desk.
    ‘Like hell it’s no biggie. You said someone got hurt.’
    ‘That tends to happen when bullets are flying around.’
    ‘Damn you, Jack, how can you be so blasé about what happened?’
    ‘I guess I’m just getting used to people trying to kill me. Anyway, it all happened so fast, it was over in seconds.’
    ‘And you just went on to the surveillance job?’
    Nightingale forced a smile. ‘There wasn’t much I could do.’
    ‘You could have talked to the police, for a start.’
    ‘And get hauled in by Chalmers again?’
    ‘Did you get a look at them?’
    ‘They were wearing ski masks but I saw them go by in their car before they started shooting.’ He sipped his coffee.
    ‘Then you have to go to the police. You can’t just walk away from something like that.’
    Nightingale laughed. ‘Walked? Do me a favour! I ran. My feet hardly touched the ground.’
    ‘And nobody stopped you?’
    ‘Everyone was pretty much down on the ground or hiding,’ said Nightingale. ‘There was one hell of a lot of lead flying around.’
    ‘And they still missed you?’
    Nightingale looked at her in astonishment. ‘You sound disappointed.’
    ‘Idiot. I’m just saying that you were lucky, there’s not a mark on you.’
    ‘MAC-10s are difficult to control,’ said Nightingale. ‘Gangbangers love them because they look the business, but they’re a bugger to aim and the recoil is fierce. In a street fight it comes down to spray and pray.’
    ‘You prayed? Is that what you mean?’
    Nightingale grinned and shook his head. ‘They pray is what I meant. Spray and pray. They point the gun in the general direction of the target, pull the trigger and hope for the best.’
    ‘In Queensway? They didn’t care about passers-by?’
    ‘The days of worrying about innocent bystanders are long gone, kid. It’s like the Wild West in parts of London. They hit a young lad but he seemed okay.’
    ‘But Bayswater? It’s hardly Brixton, is it?’
    ‘Yeah, well, I think it was a case of Mohammed coming to the mountain. They were outside my flat first; they were waiting for me.’
    ‘But who, Jack? Who would want to shoot you in broad daylight?’ Her eyes widened. ‘You don’t think it was Proserpine, do you? Were they working for her?’
    ‘That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?’
    Jenny frowned. ‘I’ve never understood that. What does it mean? Sixty-four-thousand-dollar question?’
    ‘It was an American game show in the fifties. Like Who Wants To Be a Millionaire? Back then, sixty-four thousand dollars was a lot of money.’
    ‘You don’t seem particularly upset about what happened. They tried to kill you, right?’
    ‘What do you want me to do, Jenny? Lock myself in the bathroom? Hide under the bed? I was in an armed response unit when I was with the Met, remember? I’m used to facing bad guys with guns.’
    ‘Sure, but when you were a cop you’d have been wearing a bulletproof vest and not a raincoat. And you’ve have had an MP3 to fire back with.’
    Nightingale laughed. ‘I bloody hope not,’ he said. ‘An MP3’s a music player. You mean a Heckler & Koch MP5.’
    ‘Whatever I mean, you’d have had a gun and protection. Why are you being so bloody calm about this?’
    ‘Because it’s over and I’m alive and all’s well that ends well,’ he said.
    ‘Except for the teenager who got caught in the crossfire.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re avoiding my question, aren’t you?’
    ‘What question?’
    ‘I asked you about Proserpine and you did that clever thing you do of making a joke to get out of answering. Jack, could she be behind this? She said she’d send three people to kill you. Two have already tried, right? Maybe this is the third attempt.’
    Nightingale finished his coffee, put down his mug and reached for his cigarettes.
    ‘Jack,