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“Gallagher, I’ve been going through the American Express expenditure. Didn’t you take any of your own money with you?”
Innocently as he could, Gally replied, “I did, Sir. Thirty quid but it didn’t go as far as I thought it would.”
The Old Man’s jaw tightened as he shuffled the papers back and forth. “What’s this? Good grief, man! You chartered a two-seater light aircraft!”
“I had to, Sir. I thought the pilot might like to sit somewhere.”
The Old Man’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the nonchalant figure before him. He re-examined the sheet on his desk.
“And this! What’s this?” He waved a receipt at him. “You bought yourself a semi-automatic pistol?”
Gally lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, well, there’s a story to that but it’s all in my report, Sir, there on your desk, when you get around to reading it,” he responded earnestly. “Our friend from Century House took my revolver off me and I didn’t have time to get it back. I needed something because it was quite clear to me from the way he killed his colleague that he wasn’t a very nice chap.”
“Where are the six spare rounds you had for the revolver?”
“I had nothing to fire them out of so I threw them away, Sir.”
“Well, your mistake. You’ll have to pay for them yourself. We’re not made of money, Gallagher. What happened to the PPK?”
“It’s in my locker, Sir.” He gave a half-smile.
The Old Man glowered, his voice raised slightly. ”It’s not your personal property, man! It belongs to the department!” He re-arranged his blotter then quietly said, “Give it to me. I shall have it issued to one of the others.”
Gally’s eyebrows almost knitted together in a deep frown. “Why can’t I have it? If you don’t mind me saying so, Sir, I risked my life so you could get the kudos of bringing Radler over the wire and I very nearly died out there.”
“But you didn’t, did you, Gallagher? You’re standing here in front of me. Anyway, if I can’t trust you with a two-inch revolver how can I trust you with a proper gun? You’d probably lose it within a month.” His mouth curved into a weak smile. “Don’t look so crestfallen. How is Radler by the way?”
“He’s fine, Sir. Flesh wounds, they said. The doctor at the BMH said if Harald's arse hadn't been so big it would've been a lot worse. Will that be all, Sir?”
The Old Man nodded and waved him away with a finger.
At the door, he called him back. Pretending to be occupied with a file, he said, “I’ll reconsider the PPK if you give me the spare rounds back.”
Gally emptied six bullets from his pocket onto the desk.
The Old man gazed at them then at him. “And what were you going to do with them?”
Gally smiled. “You can never have enough bullets, Sir.”
The Old Man sighed and capitulated. “Right, well. Take the PPK down to JD and have it itemised and accounted for then sign it back out. I just hope I don’t regret this. Oh and try not to show it to the others, they’ll all want one and I’m struggling with the budget as it is. Close the door on your way out.”
As the latch clicked shut, Gally checked his wrist. Tomorrow was soon enough for the weapon. Right now, he was going to meet Clare and he had an important question to ask her.