Deadline (26 page)

The chain round her neck was choking Emma so
badly she could hardly breathe as he dragged her
through the hallway. The cellar door was still
open and he pushed her towards it.

Oh God, she couldn't go back in there again, not
having come so close to freedom. And she knew
that if she went back in, this time she definitely
wouldn't be coming back out. Not alive, anyway.
She went limp in his arms, and he cursed.

'Come on, move it,' he snapped, angry now,
pressing the blade of a penknife he'd produced
earlier against her ribs.

She stayed limp, and started to make horrible
choking sounds, as if she was dying.

'If you're fooling me about . . .'

He let her drop to her knees and loosened the
chain a little.

'Water,' she gasped.

'All right,' he said, hauling her to her feet and
manhandling her through the hallway in the
direction of the kitchen. 'You can have some
water. Then we'll have some—'

He suddenly stopped as they reached the
kitchen door and he switched on the light. She felt
him go tense.

'Where is it? Where the fuck is it?'

He shoved her roughly inside, letting go of the
chain and sending her sprawling to the floor.

'The bag!' he yelled, his voice filling the room.
'The bag with the fucking money! It was on here!'
He pointed a gloved hand at the empty kitchen
table. 'Where the hell is it?' He paced about inside
the room, rubbing a hand over his face beneath
the balaclava, his eyes wide and angry. 'I can't
believe this. Someone's taken it. Someone's taken
my money.' He stopped and slammed his hand
down on the table, hitting it so hard the legs
wobbled. 'My fucking money!' he roared at the
ceiling.

Emma cowered, terrified, pushing herself into
the corner of the room, away from his rage and
frustration.

'I'm going to find whoever's done this,' he
muttered. 'I'm going to find him now. And when
I get hold of him . . .' He shoved the penknife he
was holding back into the pocket of his jeans, then
yanked open one of the drawers, took out a huge
kitchen knife and ran a finger along the blade.
'When I get hold of him, I'm going to fillet the
bastard.'

He turned and pointed the knife at Emma. The
blade shone in the glare of the overhead lights.

'Stay there, all right? Don't you dare move an inch
if you ever want to see your mum again. OK?'

She nodded, trying not to sob. 'OK.'

He swung round and stormed out of the door,
knife in hand.

And immediately cried out in surprise.

The next second he was flying back through the
door with another man hanging on to him and
shouting something that filled her with sudden
and delirious relief: 'Armed police! Drop your
weapon!'

But that was the problem. Bolt wasn't armed
when he charged Scott Ridgers. He wasn't even
carrying standard-issue pepper spray, which had
been taken off him earlier. He had nothing but
surprise. He grabbed Ridgers' wrists and twisted
them away from his body, paying particular attention
to the hand holding the kitchen knife, and
trying to butt him as he'd done Marcus
Richardson earlier that day. But the blow he
caught Ridgers with as they both crashed into the
kitchen barely glanced the other man, who had
the good sense to move his head, and as they hit
the kitchen table, disaster struck. Bolt lost his
footing and slipped, sliding along the tiled floor
on one knee, desperately trying to keep hold of his
foe, even though his head was now only level
with the other man's groin.

Ridgers was fast, and he took advantage of
Bolt's plight to tug his wrists free and slam a knee
into his face. A piercing, hot pain shot through
Bolt's nose and he wobbled in his kneeling position,
unable to react as Ridgers then lifted a leg
and delivered an accurate kung-fu kick to the side
of his head. This time he fell backwards, landing
against something white and hard. His head
throbbed savagely where Ridgers' boot had
connected and he could feel the blood pouring out
of his nostrils and on to his lips. He tried to focus
through the pain, saw the huge knife in Ridgers'
hand, and knew that he was helpless.

Jesus. After all this, he'd failed.

Then he saw Emma crouching in the corner of
the room, her eyes wide with shock.

'Run, Emma!' he shouted. 'Run!'

Ridgers took a step forward, pointing the knife
down at Bolt, ignoring Emma now. 'Where's my
money?' he roared. 'Where's my fucking money?'

Bolt rolled on to his side, thinking fast,
assessing his options . . . knowing full well that he
didn't have any. Emma leapt to her feet, but
instead of running for the door, she ran at Ridgers
and sank her teeth into his knife arm, just above
the elbow. He cried out but didn't relinquish his
grip on the knife. Instead, he grabbed her by the
hair and yanked her off in one movement, the
force of his attack sending her crashing into one of
the worktops.

Adrenalin born of pure rage shot through Bolt,
briefly substituting the pain and dizziness. He
started to get up.

But it was too late. Ridgers was bearing down
on him, and there was murder in his eyes as he
brought back his knife arm to deliver a blow that
Bolt knew would not only end his life, but would
mean the end of Emma's too.

And then there was a loud crack, followed a
second later by the sound of breaking glass, and
suddenly Scott Ridgers pitched forward as his
legs went from under him. His head smacked
hard against the fridge and he collapsed to the
floor, landing on his side on Bolt's legs. A thin
stream of blood poured from the smoking hole
where his right eye had been.

Emma screamed as he convulsed in his death
throes.

'Stay down!' Bolt yelled at her, kicking Ridgers'
body off him.

Four more shots exploded through the night air
in rapid succession, showering the table and floor
with shards of glass. Emma screamed again, and
Bolt crawled over to her, moving as fast as he
could and ignoring the glass beneath him.
Grabbing her in his arms, he pulled her under him
so that she was shielded from the gunfire. She was
shaking with fear and sobbing, and he held her
tight, thinking how small and vulnerable she was.
Even in those dramatic moments he felt a kind of
love he'd never experienced before.

'Just stay still,' he whispered. 'I'm here now.
You're going to be all right.'

For ten seconds they lay there together in a
tight, tangled embrace. There were no more shots.
Silence had returned, and Ridgers had stopped
moving. But the fact remained that someone had
just murdered him, and that person was close by.

'Stay where you are,' Bolt told Emma as he got
to his feet.

'Where are you going?'

'Just stay there, help's coming.'

Keeping low, he killed the kitchen light and
crept over to the back door. A yard, with outbuildings
to the left and right, ran about twenty yards
to the beginning of the tree line. It looked empty,
but, as Bolt turned the key in the lock and slowly
opened the door, he knew he was being foolish. It
was one thing risking your neck to save your
daughter, it was quite another to chase a gunman
while he was unarmed.

But whoever had fired the shot that killed Scott
Ridgers was also involved in this, and Bolt was in
no mood to let him get away. And if he was
carrying half a million in cash, his escape was
going to be a slow one.

Bolt slid through the gap in the door on his
hands and knees, then made a dash for the nearest
outbuilding, where he stopped and peered round
at the trees. He could hear nothing. The night was
silent with only the lightest of breezes. The
gunman was gone.

He was being an idiot. He could never do this
alone, and he couldn't leave Emma alone with a
corpse either. He wiped the blood from his face,
pulled his mobile from his pocket and put in a call
to Tina as he jogged back the way he'd come.

'I've got Emma,' he told her once he'd briefly
explained what had just happened. 'She's OK, but
the guy who shot Ridgers is gone. You're going to
have to get people over here quick. We need to get
a security cordon in place and seal off the whole
area.'

Ignoring the fact that she was being ordered
around by someone who was suspended, Tina
said she was on it and hung up.

Bolt stepped back inside the kitchen door.
Emma was sitting on the floor, staring into space.
She turned his way as he entered, and for several
seconds they simply looked at each other in
silence.

Emma looked utterly exhausted. Her clothes
were torn and sweat-stained, and her blonde hair
was matted and dishevelled, parts of it stuck to
the thin layer of grime that covered her face. But
none of that mattered. She was beautiful. And she
was safe. He felt a wave of emotion sweep over
him and he had to grit his teeth so that he didn't
cry.

'Who are you?' she asked uncertainly.

Who am I? Your father, I think. A man you've never
met before who's linked to you inextricably and for ever.
Someone who's sweated blood these past hours trying
to find you, who wants to get to know you, take you
places, be a part of your life, and explain why he hasn't
been there for so long. Who needs you so badly you
can't imagine it.

'I'm the police,' he said.

'Will you take me home?'

He took a deep breath, fought back the tears.
'Of course I will.'

But he didn't take her home. In fact, he hardly had
a chance to talk to her.

Within minutes, the first of a long line of police
and ambulance vehicles were on the scene, and
she was taken away from him. After checking that
she didn't need emergency medical treatment, the
paramedics whisked her off to the nearby Chase
Farm Hospital where she was to be reunited with
her mother before being debriefed, and for Bolt,
that was largely that. He was left alone on the
periphery, watching as the local police sealed off
the murder scene.

Within half an hour, the area around the farmhouse
was teeming with activity, and floodlights
had been set up to illuminate proceedings. Bolt
was introduced briefly to a DI called Baker,
who was running the CID nightshift at Enfield
Nick, and who had the initial responsibility for
investigating Scott Ridgers' death. He looked
more like an accountant than a copper and when
he spoke it was in a flat estuary accent, but he had
sharp, intelligent eyes that didn't look like they
missed a lot, and Bolt had a feeling that when he
went down to the station later to give his statement
he was going to get a serious grilling about
how he, a suspended SOCA agent, had ended up
at the scene, particularly as the ransom money
was missing. But he was ready for it. After everything
else that had happened today, he was pretty
much prepared for whatever was going to be
thrown at him.

He was leaning against the farmhouse's front
fence, drinking coffee from a plastic container,
when a car pulled up just behind the line of police
vans on the driveway, and Steve Evans got out,
followed by Tina and Mo. Their expressions were
grim and businesslike, but as they got closer Tina
nodded at him from behind Evans's shoulder and
gave him the barest hint of a smile. Mo just
nodded.

Evans, meanwhile, was just plain pissed off. 'I
thought I told you you were suspended, Mike,' he
said, stopping in front of him.

'You did, sir. I got a lead on Scott Ridgers. I
thought I'd check it out. As a concerned private
citizen.'

Evans didn't look mollified. 'And you tracked
him down here, only for him to be shot dead by an
unknown assailant while you were struggling
with him. That's the story I'm getting from DI
Baker.'

'Yes, sir. Someone shot Ridgers from outside the
kitchen window while I was fighting with him
inside. I'm assuming it's the same person who
disappeared with the money from the ransom
drop. I phoned Tina as soon as I could so that she
could alert the local police, and I've been here ever
since.'

Evans looked sceptical. 'It always seems to be
you who gets in these situations, doesn't it? How
did you end up here?'

Avoiding Tina's eyes, he told Evans the story
he'd already rehearsed in his head.

'Ridgers told his girlfriend where he was
staying in case she needed him. When her father
told her that he was wanted for a very serious
crime, she gave him this address. The father
phoned me because we'd already spoken earlier
today. Obviously I was suspended, and I didn't
think my word would count for much, so I
decided to come up here myself, just to check
things out. As soon as I arrived, I saw Ridgers
dragging Emma into the house, and decided I was
going to have to intervene immediately.' He
shrugged. 'The rest you know.'

Evans stared at him for several seconds. He had
a hard, intimidating gaze that carried the heavy
weight of authority. Bolt, who was used to such
looks and wasn't affected by them, held it firmly.

'Well, you're still suspended, Mike, and I don't
want to see you around again until you're back on
duty. Understood?'

The rebuke was painful, especially as he'd done
so much to break a case that was about to go very
high-profile, but not entirely unexpected. Evans
was right. He still shouldn't have been there.

'Sure, I understand.'

'Good. Now, I need to go and see DI Baker. If
you'll excuse me.'

Evans moved past Bolt, leaving him alone with
Mo and Tina. Mo asked how Emma was. His tone
was stiff and formal, and Bolt had noticed that he
hadn't called him 'boss' for some time now.

'She's good,' he answered. 'As well as can be
expected, anyway. But it's going to take her a
while to recover.'

'But she will recover. Kids always do. They're
resilient like that.' Mo looked towards the house.
'I'd better go inside.'

'OK.'

Mo managed a weak smile that confirmed to
Bolt that their relationship had taken a serious
beating.

'I hope you're back on duty soon,' he said.

'I will be.'

'Good luck.'

Mo turned and walked towards the gate. Tina
made no move to follow him.

'You not going with him?'

She nodded. 'In a minute.'

Bolt smiled at her. He couldn't help but think
she looked pretty in the moonlight.

'Thanks for what you did, Tina. It saved
Emma's life.'

'Thanks for covering for me.'

'I couldn't really do anything else, could I? Not
after you put your job on the line.' He sighed.
'How's Turner?'

'Still critical, but he's off the operating table
now. It looks better than it did.'

'Thank God for that. Any other developments
in the case?'

It was her turn to smile now. 'You're the one
who seems to be creating the developments, Mike.'

'I didn't have anything to do with Ridgers'
death, you know.'

'I never thought you would have done.'

He wondered why he'd felt the need to tell her
that. Had he really moved so far from his position
as law enforcer that he had to justify himself to his
colleagues in case they suspected he might be a
killer?

'It wouldn't surprise me if Mo thinks I did,
though,' he said, rubbing his eyes.

'Mo likes to do things the right way. He's pissed
off with you, but he still thinks you're a good cop.'

Tina was wrong. Mo didn't always have to do
things the right way. Bolt remembered that at one
time Mo had done things for him way above and
beyond the call of duty, but that maybe now he'd
grown weary of bailing his boss out.

'You look whacked, Mike.'

'I am. It's been a long day. But, you know, I
don't like the idea of going home knowing there's
still someone out there who's a kidnapper and a
killer, and who's now at least half a million
pounds richer.'

'The police here have found Phelan's car in one
of the outbuildings. But no sign of Phelan.'

Bolt was surprised. He'd almost forgotten
about Andrea's husband.

'I don't think it was Phelan who killed Ridgers,'
he said slowly. 'I just can't see that he's the one
behind this. I mean, the guy's a fly-by-night, a
minor criminal, and an inveterate gambler. He's
hardly a criminal mastermind.'

'But if his car's here, then why isn't he?' asked
Tina. 'If he wasn't involved, I would have thought
they'd've disposed of the car and the body
together, because there'd be no point doing it
separately.'

'I suppose so, but if he is part of this, then why
did they bother killing Andrea's cleaner?'

Tina shrugged. 'Good point. God knows.'

They fell silent, and Bolt yawned.

'You'd better go in, Tina. Steve Evans won't be
pleased if you're talking to me. You'll keep me
posted of how things go though, yeah?'

She nodded. 'Of course I will.'

As she walked past him, she patted his arm
reassuringly and he realized it was the first time in
their two years working together that she'd ever
touched him.

'You did a good job tonight, Mike,' she said.
'You'll be back on duty soon.'

He watched her go, thinking of all the things
he'd done today, so many of which could still cost
him his career. He'd been in law enforcement for
twenty years. It was the only job he'd known, and
despite the constraints it imposed and the huge
tedium of much of the work, he loved it. If they
sacked him, he had no idea what he'd do. But the
fact remained, there was no way he'd have
changed any of his actions because in the end,
illegal or not, they had got him the one thing he
wanted most: his daughter back.

He thought about Pat Phelan in the photograph
with Emma and Andrea at Andrea's house, all
close up together, the happy nuclear family. If he
was involved, it would be a betrayal of epic proportions.
Fear can make a man do some strange
things, and owing big sums of money to a violent
thug like Leon Daroyce was going to make
someone like Pat Phelan very frightened. But even
so, Bolt still didn't buy the fact that he was the
man who'd escaped with the money.

The problem now, with the other conspirators
dead, was finding out who was.