SENTINEL: an exciting British detective crime thriller by JOHN STANLEY Page A

that the muscles were flabby, the reactions slower than previously, the resolve to mix it up with the bad lads not as strong. What’s more, he’d never seen Radford in a tight corner. The muscles may be honed under the sharp designer suit but the sergeant just did not know if he really could mix it. Gaines felt the tang of fear at the back of his throat and hated himself for it. Radford looked at his colleague, smiled again and walked confidently across the lounge.
    I know what you’re thinking, Gainesy boy. Can the governor still hack it? Could he ever hack it or is he a good old Bramshill Boy? Can you really trust a man who drinks only orange juice? Like I say, you know nothing about me. Well, you’re about to learn something and you won’t like it. Neither will I but the game’s the game and you have to play by the rules…that’s what England always says. This has got to look good.
    Seeing the officers approaching, the men at the table downed their pints and stood up to go, the chair legs scraping on the wooden floor.
    ‘Oh, please don’t go on our account,’ said Radford calmly, noticing that Garvin had bunched his fist. The inspector flashed his warrant card. ‘We’re police officers.’
    ‘I know who you are,’ said Garvin, scowling at Gaines, who was standing slightly behind his inspector. ‘Been fucked over by that twat before. What do you want?’
    ‘A little chat,’ said Radford.
    ‘What about?’
    ‘How about we start with religion?’ With an affable smile, Radford sat down at the table and gestured for Garvin and Cranmer to do the same, which they did reluctantly. ‘Such an interesting subject, don’t you think?’
    Gaines remained standing, trying to fight back the rising nausea in the pit of his stomach. His intense dislike of Neil Garvin, powerful as it was, was not as strong as the fear that he now felt. The sergeant guessed that it was seeing the pool of blood in the church and the battered figure of the vicar in his hospital bed that had done it. No, if he was honest, it was not that, knew that it had been coming on for months. A sense that his wife was right and that he was too old for this game.
    ‘See, I hear that you’ve been to church, Neil my boy,’ said Radford cheerfully to Garvin. He did not seem to share his colleague’s misgivings. ‘Very commendable of you, although from what the good sergeant here tells me, we didn’t have you down as a Bible-basher. In fact, he has you down as some kind of hard man, apparently. Guess you need to be to go round duffing up vicars to prove that, do you? That the way it works in your world? Pick up a soft target and beat the shit out of him?’
    Garvin shot Gaines an ugly look then glared at Radford.
    ‘Fuck off,’ he said, starting to get to his feet. ‘Fuck off the both of you.’
    ‘Before we do,’ said Radford, an edge to his voice now, ‘we need a little chat about what happened to the Reverend Rowland. Sit down.’
    Garvin looked into the inspector’s icy blue eyes and felt a sudden uncertainty; he had never met the man, just heard talk of him, did not know of what he was capable. Reluctantly, Garvin sat down. So did Cranmer, feeling the same reservations about the detective.
    ‘That’s better,’ said Radford. ‘Now, about the Reverend Rowland.’
    ‘Fucking God-botherer.’
    ‘Yes, well he may be bothering God earlier than he might have hoped,’ said Radford, glancing at Gaines, who, to his relief, had begun to conquer his fears, his resolve strengthened by Garvin’s discomfort and Radford’s calm demeanour.
    The sergeant also sat down at the table and found himself starting to enjoy the confrontation. Both officers had noticed that Des Cranmer was looking anxious and Radford decided to turn the heat up on him as well.
    ‘All a bit touch and go, isn’t it Sergeant?’ he said, glancing at Gaines. ‘Could even be a murder if the vicar takes a turn for the worst, you were saying, I think?’
    ‘Oh, aye. Very