Deadline (20 page)

The phone rang as he pulled out into the road. It
was a message from Mo, wondering where he
was. There was obvious concern in his colleague's
voice. The time of the message was 1.27 – just over
half an hour ago.

But Bolt didn't call him back. Instead he called
Tina. 'I need you to check on whether there are
any mobile numbers registered to a Mr Scott
Ridgers of Hanbury Gardens, N19,' he told her. It
was a long shot that someone like Ridgers would
have registered anything in his name, particularly
a mobile phone. Criminals don't like giving the
authorities a means of tracing them. And even if
he'd done so, Bolt doubted whether he would
have taken it with him on a job as important and
risky as a kidnap. But it was still worth a try.

Tina asked who Scott Ridgers was.

'I'll explain later, I promise.'

'You sound excited. Where are you? People
have been asking. I mean, it's a big day, and
you've been gone a long time.'

There was a trace of criticism in her voice,
something Bolt hadn't heard from Tina before,
and he wondered if his team were beginning to
lose respect for him. If so, it was something he was
going to have to counter. Just not now.

'I've been following something up, and I'm on
the way back. I won't be long.'

He hung up and called Mo, telling him a briefer
version of the same story – that he'd been
following up on a lead – deliberately keeping
details scarce. He didn't want to tell his friend too
much about Ridgers, still less ask him a favour,
because Bolt had the distinct feeling he would
refuse.

Mo told him to hold on while he went somewhere
private.

'Why are you working on a lead that no one
knows anything about?' he asked. 'On a day as
important as this one.'

'It's just something that's come up, OK? From
the past.'

'Do you want to share it?'

'I'll tell you about it later.'

There was a pause.

'I think this is getting too personal for you,
boss,' he said eventually.

It was the first time Bolt could remember Mo
questioning his abilities, and it galled him. He felt
like telling his old friend to butt out.

'I'm not going to mess this up, Mo.'

'Don't, please. I respect you, boss. Don't make
me lose that respect.'

There was a genuine pain in his voice that cut
into Bolt, and neither man spoke for a few
seconds, both unsure what to say. It was Bolt who
finally broke the silence.

'This time, Mo, I'm going to have to ask you to
be the one to have faith. I promise you I know
what I'm doing.'

'OK. That's good enough for me. But don't try
to do everything on your own. It won't work.'

Bolt said he wouldn't, and it was with an
element of genuine relief that he ended the call.

There was a traffic snarl-up around Millbank
and it wasn't until twenty to three that he finally
reached the office, having already found out from
Tina that there was no mobile anywhere in the UK
registered in the name of a Scott Ridgers of
Hanbury Gardens, N19. He hadn't even made the
incident room before Barry collared him. He
didn't look very happy at all.

'Where the hell have you been?' he demanded.

Bolt knew immediately that he was going to
have to tell him, but as soon as he started talking,
Barry's expression darkened.

'Let's get to my office,' he snapped, looking
round to make sure that no one was witnessing
his wrath.

'What's going on, Mike?' he asked, his voice
laden with exasperation, when they were behind
closed doors. 'I thought I told you not to go
running off on a wild goose chase.'

'With all due respect, sir, I don't think it is a
wild goose chase.'

Bolt explained about Scott Ridgers' absence
over the past few days, though he didn't mention
his taste for underage girls, since he wasn't sure
what relevance this had.

'So, what the hell does that prove? Maybe he's
gone on holiday.'

'He's been gone since Monday. You've got to
admit, it's coincidental.'

Barry nodded furiously. 'Yes, it is coincidental,
isn't it? But that's all it is. A coincidence. It doesn't
help us one fucking iota.'

Bolt couldn't remember the last time his boss
had sworn. It was a measure of his anger and the
pressure he and they were all under.

'I thought it was better than just waiting
around. I'm convinced I'm on to something.'

'Did Tina say there was a mobile registered in
his name?'

Bolt admitted there wasn't.

'So you're not on to something, are you? Listen,
Mike, you're going to have to pull yourself
together. I don't know what the hell's got into you
over this, but whatever it is, it's got to stop. And
what's happened to your face? You've got a
bloody great bruise coming up.'

'I had an accident. Banged my head against the
car door.'

Barry's gaze then dropped to the bloodstains on
his shirt.

'Are you all right to go through with this
tonight? Because if you're not . . . if you're not
well or something . . .'

'I'm fine, I promise.'

But even as Bolt spoke, he wondered for the
first time whether he really was capable of
operating effectively. He thought of Marcus
Richardson, his face smeared with blood as he lay
curled up in a defenceless ball against his flailing
kicks; of Emma, a girl he might never know,
chained to a rusty iron bed, a black hood over her
head, while an unseen man ran a knife across her
neck. Then he forced out the thoughts and
focused on his boss.

'I won't mess this up,' he said firmly.

Barry nodded once, accepting the answer.
'Good. I need you fine. In fact, I need you more
than fine. You were the one who initiated this op,
and it's got to work.' He looked at his watch.
'We've got a final briefing at three thirty for
everyone taking part. After that, I want you and
Mo to get down to Mrs Devern's place and brief
her. It's essential she doesn't mess things up
either. There's going to be a lot riding on her.'

'She knows that.'

'Make sure she knows it again.'

'What about the ransom money?'

'You're taking it with you, so don't suddenly go
AWOL again.' He smiled to show he was joking,
but Bolt wasn't entirely sure he was. 'The rest of
the team are going to be following you,' he
continued, 'so we'll be ready to move as soon as
they call. You'll be in charge on the ground. I'll be
overseeing things from here.'

'No problem.'

Bolt nodded decisively because he had a feeling
this was the kind of encouraging gesture Barry
wanted to see. His boss looked more stressed than
Bolt had seen him for a while, and he knew that
his own actions weren't exactly helping.

'If this goes well, it'll be a huge boost for SOCA,
and for us,' said Barry, watching Bolt closely,
looking, it seemed, for answers. 'But if things go
wrong . . .' He let the words hang in the air for
several seconds. 'If they go wrong, then you and
me, we're going to be in a lot of shit, old mate.'

More than you'll ever know
, thought Bolt.
More
than you'll ever know
.

The briefing was short and to the point. It focused
purely on how the operation to follow the money,
apprehend the kidnapper and rescue Emma was
going to work. It seemed like a good plan with an
extremely high chance of success to most people.
To Bolt it was full of holes.

Afterwards, when he and Mo were in the
Jaguar driving to Andrea's place in a convoy of
cars containing the rest of the team, the canvas
holdall with the half a million pounds locked
safely in the boot, Mo asked him about the lead
he'd been working on all day. Bolt knew he had to
tell his friend the truth now, so he told him about
his visits to Richardson's and Ridgers' addresses,
leaving out the part where he beat the shit out of
Richardson.

'Why didn't you tell me any of this earlier?' Mo
asked.

'I didn't want you thinking that I'd lost control
– you know, after what I told you yesterday.'

'But you spoke to Tina. Do you trust her more
than me?'

'No, I don't. Of course not. I just wasn't sure
what you'd say if I asked you to look up Ridgers'
number. Also, Tina's got good contacts at the
phone companies.'

'And you really think I wouldn't have helped
you?' Mo looked deflated.

'Look, I'm sorry.'

Bolt wished he wasn't having this conversation.
He wished too that he hadn't opened his mouth
the previous day and put himself in such a vulnerable
position with one of his most trusted
colleagues.

'How did you get that bruise on your head?
And the blood on your shirt?'

'I had an accident. Banged my head on the car
doorframe.'

'I'm a detective, boss, not a ten-year-old.'

Bolt sighed. 'I broke into Richardson's place.
He attacked me. We had a fight. That's how I
got it.'

'What the hell is happening to you?' demanded
Mo.

'What's happening to me is that it could be my
daughter who's imprisoned by the kind of scum
who've already killed at least twice, and so won't
hesitate a single minute to kill again. That's what's
happening. OK?'

'But you can't go round breaking into people's
houses and having fights with them. It's just not
the way to get things done.'

'What is the way, then? Tell me!'

'To focus,' snapped Mo. 'To focus on making
sure this operation's a success. Not on running
round on a wild goose chase.'

'It's not a wild goose chase.'

'It is, boss. What proof have you got that either
of them has any involvement whatsoever?
Absolutely none.' Mo shook his head angrily. 'If it
wasn't so bloody late in the day, I'd be talking to
Barry about it right now.'

They continued the rest of the journey in
brooding silence. They'd never argued before, not
like this. They'd had the occasional niggling
disagreement and cross words, but it had never
got anywhere near the position they were in now.
Mo was openly questioning his ability to do the
job, and, though Bolt desperately didn't want to
admit it, he had some justification too. Another
line had been crossed, one from which it was
going to be a hard journey back, and he knew
exactly whose fault it was.

It was after five when he and Mo left the convoy
and turned into Andrea's street, having been
given the all-clear by the surveillance team
watching the house. It was the third time in a little
over twenty-four hours that he'd been here, and
each time Bolt arrived he felt worse than the time
before. He couldn't help wondering how he was
going to be feeling the next time he came – if there
was a next time.

Heaving the bag containing the money out of
the boot, he walked to the gate in silence, Mo
following behind. Marie the liaison officer buzzed
them through. She was wearing a more concerned
expression than usual as she opened the door to
him.

'Still no word from the kidnappers,' she told
him.

'How's Andrea?'

'She's bearing up, but her nerves are shot with
all this waiting. I think all of ours are.'

It was the first sign from Marie that she was
getting personally involved in the case. Bolt
wasn't surprised. Liaison officers might be highly
trained but they were still human, and, he noted
wryly, someone like Andrea had always been
good at tugging on other people's heartstrings.

'They'll be in contact soon enough,' he said,
nodding to Matt Turner who'd poked his head
round the door of the study. 'Is she upstairs?' he
asked Marie.

'She's in the lounge,' she answered quietly.
'She's been there most of the afternoon. She said
she wanted to be left alone.'

Andrea was on the same sofa she'd been on
yesterday afternoon. Apart from the change of
clothes – she was smarter today, in a white blouse
and black knee-length skirt – she might as well
not have moved. Her haunted, almost hypnotized
expression remained the same, and she only gave
him the barest of glances as he and Mo entered the
room.

Bolt felt a sudden, almost overwhelming urge
to take her in his arms, but he fought it back
down. He put the holdall on the floor between
them and took a seat opposite her. Mo remained
standing near the door.

'They haven't called, Mike.'

'I know. But they will. They want the money,
Andrea. That's their sole motivation for this.'

She stared into space. 'I can't lose her. I . . . I just
don't know what I'd do.'

Bolt leaned forward in the seat, willing her to
look at him. 'You've got to be strong, Andrea. Do
you understand?'

'OK,' she said quietly in a voice that didn't fill
Bolt with confidence. For the first time he
wondered if she'd be able to do what they needed
her to do.

'For Emma's sake.'

She nodded, a little more decisively this time,
and looked down at the holdall.

'Is that the money?'

'Yes. There's a tracking device attached to the
lining on the inside. It's so small it'll be almost
impossible to find. There are also two further
devices, also very tiny, attached to the notes inside.'

'But surely the kidnappers'll find them?'

'Eventually they will, yes, if they know what
they're looking for.'

'Which they do, Mike. You know they do.'

'But we're not going to let them run with this
money for long. We'll be following you the whole
way as you deliver it. There'll be surveillance
teams travelling in front of you and behind.

There'll also be helicopter back-up. There's no
way you're going to be in any danger.'

'I'm not worried about me, Mike, I'm worried
about Emma. We're putting her life in danger
here, and I can't stop thinking about it.'

'Look, we'll keep back so we're not noticeable,
and you'll be wearing a mike so we can monitor
any conversation you have, and a tracking device
so we don't lose you either. Mo, can you put them
on for Andrea?'

Mo nodded curtly, and attached the devices to
Andrea's blouse while Bolt continued.

'When you've delivered the money and withdrawn
from the scene, we'll track the money to its
destination. The kidnappers may put the money
in a different bag but they won't have a chance to
check half a million pounds in cash for trackers.
We'll then follow them and the money to that
destination and arrest them there.'

'But what if Emma isn't there? What if they're
hiding her somewhere else?'

It was the big question, one that Bolt really
didn't want to think about, because it represented
the biggest flaw in their plan.

'The chances are she will be, Andrea. If all the
kidnappers are involved in the drop – and given
that there are only two of them, three at the most,
they probably will be – then they won't want to
leave her alone for long, I promise you.'

'It's all chances and likelys though, isn't it,
Mike?' she said as Mo moved aside. 'That's the
problem. There are no guarantees. They've
already killed Jimmy. What if they kill Emma too?'

Bolt could have added that they'd also killed
her cleaner, but he didn't. Back at the Glasshouse
it had been decided not to tell Andrea about this
latest development until after the ransom drop,
because of how it might affect her mental state.

'There are no guarantees, Andrea. Not in something
like this. But you've got to trust us. We
know what we're doing.' He decided to change
the subject. 'Have you ever heard of anyone by
the name of Scott Ridgers?'

She lit a cigarette with shaking hands, and blew
out a thin plume of smoke. 'No. Should I have?
Who is he?'

Bolt told her about the possible connection.
When he'd finished, she looked shocked.

'You're not saying this has got anything to do
with what happened all those years ago, are you?'

'It's possible. We can't find him at the moment.'

'Was it common knowledge that I told you
about the robbery, then?' She glanced at Mo as she
spoke. 'I swore you to secrecy.'

'And I kept it secret, I promise. It's just a possibility
that he's involved.'

'I only ever met a couple of Jimmy's friends,
and I don't remember a Scott Ridgers,' she mused.

'Fair enough,' he said, not entirely able to mask
the disappointment in his voice. He wasn't totally
surprised. Ridgers was a vague lead at best, and
now he was beginning to get vaguer.

It was a long shot, but he pulled out of a pocket
an A4-sized copy of Scott Ridgers' latest mugshot
and unfolded it.

'This is a photo of him.'

The moment she took it, her eyes widened.

'I know him,' she said simply.