CHAPTER TEN
'So, the Prodigal Son has returned,' was Rafferty's comment, as he stepped into the interview room. Hadleigh was slouched in his chair and, apart from scowling in Rafferty's general direction, he didn't look up. 'I'm afraid the canteen's right out of fatted calves. But we've plenty of juicy questions. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what about.'
The only response this brought from Hadleigh was a sneer and an even lower slouching. His thin face looked gaunt beneath his bleached blonde hair. He seemed to suffer from an acute case of arrested development. Not only was he short - he could be no more than 5'5" - at first glance he could easily be mistaken for a teenager, an anorexic teenager dressed in the universal youth uniform of skin-tight blue jeans and sleeveless black tee
