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Alex heard the pounding on her door and the shouted vulgarities that followed, but she couldn’t seem to get up and do anything about it.
Of course, if her “Gene Hunt” was the same as Sam’s, there was no need.
“Bloody hell!” Gene exclaimed, coming through the ravished door right on schedule. “Keeping track of you head-cases is like herding otters.”
“That’d make, you an ottherd, Guv,” Chris commented, clearly thinking himself rather clever.
“Ottherd,” Alex repeated slowly, wondering if an ottherd might be the key to getting back to her daughter.
It made as much sense as anything else.