Watters watched as the uniformed police gathered a few doors from the Atlantic Street entrance to the Wild Geese. He shone his lantern down the solid blue line, with the light reflecting on brass buckles and gleaming from tall hats and leather belts. Anderson stood in front, leaning on a felling axe sufficiently large to do credit to any Norse warrior.
"There might be resistance," Watters reminded. "There are at least two hefty porters and maybe others that I don"t know about." He allowed the words to sink in. "Mother Flannery is also inside, we think. You have all seen our artist"s impression of her, and I want her treated gently." He remembered the prize fight. "Now, she will undoubtedly resist, and she is as strong as any two men. Don"t try to arrest her alone."
"She"s only a woman,"
