Deadline (21 page)

'He's done work in the garden here before,' said
Andrea, still staring at the photo. 'For the firm I
use. I've seen him here a couple of times.'

Bolt looked at Mo. His colleague's face was
impassive.

'What's the name of the firm?'

'Brandon Landscapes. I've got a business card
with all their details round here somewhere.'

She got up and rummaged round in the top
drawer of the pine cabinet next to the sofa until
she found what she was looking for.

'And when did you see the man in the photo
here?'

'He's only been here recently,' she said, handing
Bolt the card. 'In the last few weeks. I hadn't seen
him before that.'

'Did he act suspiciously at all?' asked Mo,
speaking for the first time.

Andrea shook her head, sitting back down. 'No.
Just did his job.'

'Did he ever come inside the house?'

'No. I never let any of the gardeners inside the
house. There was never any need. And also, quite
a few of the people who work for Mike Brandon
have criminal records.'

Bolt raised his eyebrows. 'Really?'

'The idea's to help them get back on their feet.

I've always thought it was a good idea but, you
know, I'm not entirely stupid. I'm not going to
give them the run of the place. Not with their
backgrounds.' She picked up the photo again.
'God, do you really think he might be involved?'

Bolt suddenly wished he wasn't, after what
Bouchera and Richardson had both said about
him, but he nodded. 'Yes, I do. And it shows we're
on the right track.' He glanced at Mo as he said
this.

Bolt looked at the card Andrea had given him
and saw that Brandon was a local Hampstead firm.

'Well, we're going to need to get on to them
straight away and see if they've got any other
contact details for Mr Ridgers.'

He stood up and excused himself and Mo.

As soon as they were out in the hall, Bolt let out
a deep breath. He turned to his colleague, hoping
for some form of acknowledgement that he'd been
right to follow up the lead.

'I still don't agree with how you went about it,'
he said grudgingly.

'This is my daughter we're talking about,' Bolt
hissed, leaning close to Mo. 'I had no choice. And
now we're getting somewhere, aren't we? Because
this is way too coincidental. Ridgers is involved.
No question.'

'OK, but we still don't know where he is and we
haven't got a lot of time to find him.'

Bolt nodded. 'But I was right to do what I did.'

He turned away before Mo could say anything
else and dialled the number for Brandon
Landscapes. The call went straight to message and
he left one, asking Mike Brandon to get back to
him urgently. Then he called Big Barry and gave
him the news.

Barry seemed to forget his earlier irritation with
Bolt, and praised him for his good work. 'We
don't want to put out an alert in case any local
copper tries to nick him before he's picked up the
money. But it's good to be able to put a name to
one of them, Mike. Well done.'

Matt Turner emerged from the study as Bolt
came off the phone.

'Any chance of getting relieved here, boss?' he
asked. 'I'm going stir crazy.'

'Don't worry,' Bolt told him wearily, 'this is all
going to be over soon.'

He wasn't sure what else to say so he left Turner
and Mo there and went and stood out in the
garden. He had a strong need to get away from
everyone. It was a beautiful early autumn afternoon,
with only a few wispy strands of cloud and
aircraft trails crossing an otherwise perfect azure
sky, but he was unable to enjoy the solitude. Like
Andrea, he couldn't stand the waiting. It gave him
far too much time to think, and the fact that his
hunch had paid off was proving to be a doubleedged
sword. As Barry had said, it was good to be
able to ID one of the kidnappers, but the fact
remained that he'd also been accused of being a
paedophile, and he was quite possibly holding
Bolt's daughter. That thought made relaxation of
any kind impossible.

He paced the garden for quite a while, then
went back inside. He could hear Mo, Turner and
Marie talking quietly in the study but couldn't
make out what they were saying. Not wanting to
interrupt them, he knocked on the living-room
door and was unsurprised to see Andrea still in
her seat, smoking.

'You know what?' she said through the smoke,
without looking at him. 'The contents of that
bag . . .' She motioned with a flick of her head
towards the holdall on the floor. 'It's just a load of
fucking paper, isn't it? I've spent my whole life
trying to earn as much as I can of those little
bits of paper, and all for what? A nice big house.
A big car. A daughter I might never see again . . .'

'You can't think like that, Andrea. You've got to
be positive.'

She managed a weak smile. 'We'll get through
it. Won't we?'

'If we're strong, we'll get through it. And
tonight we both need to be very strong, and very
focused.'

She stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and
stood up, taking a step towards him. 'Will you
hold me?' she asked him. 'Just for a moment?'

She looked so vulnerable that Bolt knew there
was no way he could resist, and he went to take
her in his arms.

And then stopped, startled by a sound that
inspired hope and fear in equal measure.

The ringing of the phone.

Emma's voice came over the line on loudspeaker.
Like the previous day, it was a recording. Unlike
the previous day, Bolt's relationship with her had
changed, and he experienced a wrenching in his
stomach as she spoke, her words nervous and
halting.

'Hi Mum, it's me. I'm OK. It's Saturday. I've
seen the paper.' A short pause. 'They say that
they'll let me go tonight if you give them the
money. But you can't involve the police. Please.
Otherwise . . .' Another pause, longer this time.

They were in the study. All five of them. Turner,
Marie, Mo, Bolt and Andrea. Turner clicked frantically
on his laptop, trying to secure a trace. The
others stood silent, waiting. Bolt couldn't look at
Andrea, even though he knew she was looking at
him. The receiver was shaking in her hand. He
caught Mo's eyes and saw sympathy there. He
didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he stared at a fixed
point high on the ceiling, his jaw set hard.

There was a click at the other end of the phone,
and then the familiar disguised voice came on the
line.

'Do you have the money yet, Mrs Devern?'

'Yes.' Delivered firmly.

'Good. And have you spoken to the police?'

'No.' Delivered just as firmly.

'We have someone with your daughter. He has
instructions to kill her at ten p.m. exactly if he
hasn't heard from us, so I would advise you
strongly to do the right thing this time.'

Bolt flinched at his words, and for a moment
Andrea appeared unsteady on her feet; then she
began to speak confidently into the phone.

'I told you, I haven't,' she said. 'I just want to
get this thing over with.'

'Good. You have sat-nav in your car, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'Munroe Drive in N7 is a six-minute drive away
from you in normal traffic. You've got four
minutes to get there or the deal's off. Drive to the
end and await my call.'

'But—'

The line went dead. Andrea let the receiver
drop to the floor.

'Jesus, where are my keys? I've only got four
minutes.'

'Don't panic, Andrea,' Bolt told her sharply.
'He's bluffing. Remember, he wants the money.
Just stay calm and get to Munroe Drive as soon as
you can.' He looked at Turner. 'Trace?'

'Mobile, north London. That's all I've got. If
he's following the same MO as yesterday, he'll
have switched the phone off by now.'

But Bolt was no longer listening. Pressing his
mobile to his ear, he put a call in to Barry in the
control room. 'It's on,' was all he said. Then, as he
followed Andrea out of the room, he called the
surveillance team leader outside.

'It's clear,' came the reply.

'We're on the move,' Bolt told him.

'Good luck.'

I'm going to need more than that
, Bolt thought as
he hung up. But for the first time in over twenty-four
hours he felt better. He was taking charge of
a well-rehearsed operation. The stakes were
higher than he'd ever known, but at least it was
now up to him.

'The mobile he called on was a different one
from yesterday,' said Turner, coming out of the
study, 'and it is already switched off. Somewhere
in N17, not far from yesterday's.'

'Good work, Matt.'

'I want to come with you.'

Bolt looked at him.

'Please, boss. I don't want to stay here.'

There was no time to argue.

'All right, you can come with me and Mo.'

Bolt grabbed the holdall containing the money,
and once Andrea had retrieved her keys from the
kitchen, they left the house together. The money
was heavy and he struggled to keep up with her
as she ran down the street to her car. He pulled
open the door and dropped it into the passenger
seat as Andrea switched on the engine and
hurriedly fed Munroe Drive N7 into her sat-nav.
She looked terrified, but focused. He wished her
luck but she didn't even glance his way. Instead
she leaned over, shut his door and pulled away
from the kerb.

One minute had passed.

'I'll drive,' Bolt announced, jumping in the Jag
with Mo and Turner.

He shoved in his earpiece, switched on the loop
mike he was wearing round his neck, and then
they were away, doing a rapid three-point turn in
the middle of the street. A middle-aged couple
walking arm in arm stopped and watched them
curiously.
Lucky sods
, Bolt thought.
Not a care in the
world
.

There were five surveillance cars and two
motorbikes involved in the convoy. As with all
surveillance ops, they would switch position
constantly so that no one vehicle stood out, just in
case the kidnappers had decided to tail Andrea
themselves. All communication would now be
done by radio, using call signs, so that every
person involved could hear what was being said
and be able to act accordingly.

Bolt got into position behind a Toyota Auris
with Tina Boyd and Kris Obanje inside.

'I think our targets are getting paranoid,' said
Mo. 'Munroe Drive's a dead end.'

'Shit. They're obviously checking for tails.
We're going to have to be very, very careful here.'

He turned right out of Andrea's road, pulled
over while another of the surveillance cars overtook
him, then accelerated, his fingers drumming
on the wheel as the tension coursed through him.
He looked at his watch.

Two minutes.

They turned again, this time on to the Finchley
Road, heading north in the direction of the North
Circular. Traffic was steady rather than heavy and
one of the surveillance bikes roared past them,
disappearing into the distance and tucking in
behind Andrea's Mercedes, which was fifty yards
ahead and weaving in and out of the lanes,
moving fast. The surveillance vehicles would be
travelling both behind and in front of her, so she
could be kept under the eyeball at all times, but
her speed and the erratic nature of her driving
were making it difficult for them.

Bolt leaned against the window looking
skywards, hoping that Barry was being true to his
word and keeping the helicopter back and out of
sight. Even in a sprawling city like London, where
helicopters are a common sight, it would stick out
a mile to the kidnappers. But today the sky was
clear.

Three minutes.

Up ahead, the lights went amber. Andrea accelerated
through them, just as they went red, the
surveillance bike going through just behind her.
The two cars in front of Bolt stopped, giving him
no choice but to do the same. He cursed, and his
finger-tapping on the seat intensified as he
counted the seconds in his head as Andrea's car
disappeared from sight.

One, two, three . . . thirteen, fourteen, fifteen . . .
twenty-two, twenty-three . . .

'Come on, come on,' he hissed.

As the lights turned green again, there was
a crackle of static in Bolt's earpiece and a voice
came on the line amid a lot of background
noise.

'Bike two to all cars, target has just turned into
Clearland Road, leading to Munroe Drive. Am
taking the next road along, Boothby Avenue. Have
lost eyeball.'

Tina's voice broke in. 'Car two to bike two,
we're thirty seconds behind. Will turn into
Clearland and take the eyeball.'

Four minutes.

Bolt accelerated, cutting inside to overtake the
two cars in front before pulling back into the
outside lane. He was making up ground fast but
they were still way behind.

And then from inside their car they heard the
sound of Andrea's mobile ringing, the mike on
her blouse picking it up. They heard her say
'hello' and then the kidnapper's voice came on the
line, faint but audible.

'Where are you?' he demanded, the voice
warped by the suppressor.

'I'm just turning into Munroe Drive now.'

'Drive to the end. Stop outside number twenty
on the left. There's a green Renault Scenic parked
directly outside. In the driver's-side wheel arch,
on top of the tyre, is a package. Pick it up and
leave this phone in its place, making sure you
switch it off. Then get back in your car and open
the package. There'll be two items inside, one of
which is another mobile phone. Turn it on, and
you'll be called on it with further instructions. In
the meantime, drive up to the North Circular and
turn right, heading east.'

The line went dead.

'Christ, these guys aren't taking any chances,
are they?' said Turner in the back.

Bolt shook his head angrily. 'The bastards know
something. They must do.'

'How?' asked Mo. 'We've kept everything
under wraps.'

'God knows. But they know. I'm sure of it.'

Tina's voice came over the airwaves, interrupting
them. 'Car two to all cars. Target has
stopped near bottom of Munroe Drive. She's
picked up the package, and she's getting back in.
She's turning round and coming back up Munroe
Drive. Now turning left and heading back
towards Finchley Road.'

'We'll take the eyeball,' said Bolt as he pulled
over just before the entrance to Clearland Road,
waiting for Andrea's Mercedes to emerge.

Seconds later, she pulled out of the junction,
heading north, her driving even more erratic than
it had been earlier.

'Car one to all cars,' announced Bolt, 'we're
following the target north on Finchley Road, three
cars back. She's driving fast. I can't get a good view,
but it looks like she's on the phone. Her mike's not
picking anything up so she can't be speaking.'

'Shit,' cursed Mo. 'What the hell's she doing?'

'Oh no,' said Bolt.

Barry's voice came over the radio, urgent.
'What's going on?'

'Target is opening the window and throwing
something out.'

'That's her mike,' yelled Barry. 'And the tracker
she's wearing.'

'She's just chucked something else out,' said
Mo.

'I know!' Barry yelled. He sounded almost
apoplectic now. 'It's the bloody trackers in the bag
lining. How's she finding these things, and what
on earth does she think she's doing?'

It was Bolt who answered the question. 'That
package she just picked up. It doesn't just contain
a phone, there's a bug finder in there as well. The
bastards know we're on to them. That's what's
happening.'

He couldn't believe it. The kidnappers had been
tipped off. But by whom?