A/N Many thanks for the encouraging reviews. Sorry it's taken me a while to update - real life intervened!

Chapter 3

Alex strode into Gene's office, where he was now apparently busy doodling.

"Interesting phone call?" he asked

"Bomb threat" she replied, succinctly. "Irish accent, and he told me to write this down" she continued, gesturing with the sheet of paper. "It's meant to be a puzzle of some sort – he said it was to show they're not all ignorant Paddies."

"Because obviously planting bombs and killing innocent bystanders is the action of a highly intelligent group of human beings." growled Gene. "Not our problem, anyway – give it here and I'll call Special Branch."

Alex handed him the sheet of paper and headed back to her desk, just as Ray and Chris entered noisily.

"Morning ma'am!" they said in unison.

"Good morning boys – you've already missed today's excitement."

She told them about the phone call.

"Do you think it was genuine? Was it the same informant you had for the Prices' bomb?" asked Chris, eagerly.

"Maybe and no" answered Alex, trying to block out thoughts of the last bomb she'd tried to stop (a smiling clown, a red balloon, fire and noise and despair). Chris looked confused.

"Maybe genuine and no, not the same informant" Alex elaborated. "Anyway DCI Hunt's reported it to Special Branch now, so it's not our problem any more."

"Or was it?" she thought as she sat down. Was it coincidence that she'd taken the call? Was this something she had to solve herself? Her way home at last? She tried to quell her growing excitement. It was probably another dead end. But it wouldn't harm to look at the rhyme again, and it had to be more interesting than those bloody witness statements. She wrote down the bomber's words:

"Bringer of sorrow

Portent of doom

The bar on the road of nine

At 12.30, boom"

OK, so the last line seemed pretty self evident – explosion at 12.30. Lunchtime presumably. Better to assume that – less harm in being 12 hours early than late. She stared at the first line. What was a bringer of sorrow and a portent of doom? The grim reaper? A banshee? A black cat? That was more like it.

"Ray? Is there a Black Cat nightclub in the area, or something like that?" she called across the office.

"Don't think so. There's the Blue Pussycat, but that's probably not your cup of tea." He raised his eyebrows at Chris, who said "Oh, is that the place where they wear feathers in their…"

"All right" interrupted Alex, holding her hands up "Thank you so much for your valuable help. Where's Shaz, Chris? I could do with some intelligent input."

"She's at the hospital this morning" explained Chris. "She's OK" he added hurriedly, seeing Alex's concerned expression. "Just a check-up to see everything's still healing OK. She'll be in later."

Alex went back to her puzzle. She was drawing a total blank on the portent of doom. Perhaps it was just there to rhyme. The 'road of nine': that was the important bit. It had to be the location of the target.

She pulled the London A-Z out of her drawer and began leafing through the index. No Nine Road. There was a Nine Street – she checked the map hurriedly but no, it was well off their patch. And she had to assume the bomber had called here because the target was local. Back to the index. Nineways Road – no, that was the other side of London as well.

Think, Alex. She leaned back, looking at the familiar black and white ceiling. She spun gently to and fro in her chair, and had a sudden memory of doing the same thing with Molly when she was little. Molly had been about a year old at the time, and Alex had to take her into work briefly for some reason, and she could remember spinning round on her office chair, cuddling the laughing little girl, Molly's soft hair tickling her face like feathers.

Feathers. Black and white. Alex sat up in her chair quickly. Bringer of sorrow. One for sorrow. "Magpies!" she exclaimed.

"Pardon, ma'am?" said Chris.

"The magpie rhyme – I think it's the key to the bomber's puzzle. One for sorrow. Now how does the rest go?"

She grabbed a marker and began scribbling on the whiteboard.

"One for sorrow

Two for joy

Three for a girl

Four for a boy

Five for silver

Six for gold

Seven for a secret never to be told.

"Damn! It doesn't go as far as nine. I was sure that was right"

"Hang on ma'am, there are more lines than that." said Chris, joining her at the board. "Umm, eight for a wish, nine for a kiss, and …ten for a bird you must not miss" he finished triumphantly.

"Brilliant, Chris!" said Alex, putting the last lines on the board. "How on earth did you know that?"

"It was the theme to that kids' programme, Magpie. Remember?" and he began singing, rather tunelessly.

"No, before my time, I think" said Alex, absently, looking at the board.

"Pull the other one." muttered Ray, winking at Chris.

"OK, so nine is for kiss," continued Alex "So we need a Kiss Street, Kiss Road, something like that. Any ideas?" She started rifling through the A-Z index again.

"How about the Kiss Chase?" asked Ray "It's a poofs' club down by the docks, one of these basement places with a bar over it."

"Oooh, go there often, do we?" asked Chris in his best Mr Humphreys voice.

"Piss off!"

"Ray, that's great!" smiled Alex. "Chase is used to mean road on some of these new housing estates, and there's a bar over the club – that's got to be it! The bar on the road of nine."

Grinning broadly, she walked into Gene's office.

"One of these days, DI Drake, you will knock on my door first." he grumbled.

"Sorry sir, but I think we've cracked the bomb puzzle."

"That would be the one that I said was Special Branch's job? Glad to hear you lot have got so much time on your hands. Come on then, fire away."

Alex explained her theory, while Gene listened with his hands behind his head and a slight scowl on his face.

"Well that sounds like a load of authentic Irish bollocks to me" he said when she finished. "Feel free to enlighten Special Branch. Don't expect any credit, though – that lot will insist they thought of it first."

Gene was right – the Special Branch officer said he was very grateful for the information, but of course they were following their own leads and the situation was well under control. Alex sighed as she put the phone down. No sudden flash of light; no waking up in a hospital bed in 2008. (Was that how it would happen?). She picked up her pile of witness statements, and spent the rest of the morning in a fog of boredom.

Just after 12, Shaz arrived.

Alex looked up, stretching her stiff neck. "Hi Shaz. What's the verdict?"

"Oh, everything's great, thanks for asking ma'am. The doctor says I'll be good as new in a week or so." Shaz beamed.

"Hey, I know that!" she said, catching sight of the whiteboard, which still displayed the magpie rhyme. "I learned another version from my gran as well. Irish she was, full of stories. Hers went 'One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth, five for a christening, six for a death, seven for heaven, eight for hell, and nine is for the devil himself'."

As Shaz reached number nine, Alex's eyes narrowed, and she jumped up from her chair.

"Can you come out here a minute?" she said to Gene, leaning though his doorway. "I think we may have a problem."

"Drake, you've always got a bloody problem. What is it now? Chris stapled his scrotum to the desk again?"

Chris looked up as Gene walked in to the room. "Have I what?"

"Never mind." said Alex, taking up her usual position by the whiteboard. "Listen, all of you. Shaz has just told me there's another version of this rhyme, an Irish one."

"Actually, there are lots of versions." interrupted Shaz. "The one you've used is the best known 'cos they used it on telly. It's just another example of regional folklore and customs being overwhelmed by a dominant popular culture."

"Bloody hell, Shaz" laughed Ray. "Have you been reading books again?"

Shaz looked down, a bit embarrassed.

"Hey, there's some interesting stuff in books!" said Chris, defensively.

"Aye, I know. I had a look at that Kama Sutra thing once. There were these pictures of this bird with her legs up round her ears – very interesting."

"Looks impressive, but plays hell with your hips." interrupted Alex. "Now, can we get back to the job in hand? OK, we'd assumed that 'nine' signified 'kiss', but if this other version is right, it means 'the devil'. Have we got a Devil Lane? Devil Road?"

There were lots of mutterings and head shakings. Alex looked at Gene, who was standing with his hands in his pockets, frowning at the board.

"Hobb's Alley." he suddenly said.

"What?" asked Alex, puzzled.

"Hobb's Alley. Hobb is an old name for the devil. Missed that out of your posh education, did they?"

"And there's that poncey new wine bar down there, guv – typical IRA target." Ray joined in.

Gene nodded in acknowledgement. "So what we're saying is we've sent Special Branch to the wrong place. Bloody great."

"We don't know that." argued Alex. "It could be either one. And according to Shaz there are other versions of the rhyme as well. I'm sure they've looked at all the possibilities. This probably occurred to them too."

"I doubt it – that lot couldn't find a fanny in a convent. I'd put my money on this twat using the Irish version, anyway. Right, Nancy Drew," continued Gene, nodding at Shaz. "You get on to Special Branch and tell them our happy news. You three," pointing at Ray, Chris and Alex, "With me. Time to save the day again."

A/N Info on magpie folklore courtesy of Terry Pratchett! Next chapter to follow very soon...