Detective Sergeant Beaulieu pushed his way to the head of the queue, ignoring the protests from around him. "I'm looking for someone," he said to the woman behind the reception desk.
"Well, you can wait your turn," she said, and pointedly stared past Beaulieu's shoulder to the person behind him.
Beaulieu reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his warrant card. "See this?" he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as he could. "This means I am an officer in the PSNI. You have one of our officers - my chief - in this hospital. I want to see him. Now!"
The receptionist recoiled from the force behind Baeulieu's last word. "Right, sergeant. And what is the name of the patient?"
"Detective Inspector Corrigan. John Corrigan. D'ye have have him here or not?"
The woman behind the desk tapped on the keyboard in front of her. "Your colleague is in ward 17-E."
"Where's that?"
The woman behind the desk resisted the temptation to point at the map on the wall. If she wanted to be rid of this man, it would be better just to give him what he wanted. "Down the main corridor, left at junction two. Take the lift to the first floor and follow the signs."
Beaulieu nodded. "Right." Then he set off at a run for ward 17-E.
Beaulieu found Corrigan in a private room, just by the nurses' station. He paused at the threshold. "What happened?" Beaulieu asked as soon as he saw the inspector.
"What do you think?" Corrigan replied. "You're meant to be a detective."
"It looks like someone's given you a right beating." Beaulieu took a good look at the state of his superior. Corrigan's face was swollen, with the lumps beginning to turn purple. His left arm was in plaster, and the pump on the stand had been primed with a syringe of something clear. "Alright, then. Who did it?"
"Some smart lads. There were four of them - or that's what it felt like. They jumped me as I was leaving the Rumpole."
"Did ye get a look at their faces?"
Corrigan laughed, then winced in pain. "What do you think? I said they were smart lads. They were wearing balaclavas."
"Well, that narrows it down, doesn't it? Every Chuckie wannabe and his bro' wears one of those."
"Aye. But these smart lads couldn't resist a wee jibe at me. 'This is for Pogo,' one of them said."
"Pogo?" Beaulieu looked thoughtful. "That's not a name you hear often."
"That's what I thought." Corrigan waved his good arm at the sergeant. "Get back to the shop and get the lads to go through the files. If this Pogo's one of the people we've put away ... ."
"We'll find him and ask him some questions," Beaulieu finished. "Then we'll dish out some revenge ourselves."
