Relentless (30 page)

'Armed police!' Bolt screamed again, and shot Lench in his
left eye. Blood sprayed the grass behind his head, and he went
into convulsions.
At the same time, the DI threw the Walther PPK on the
ground next to the dying man's uninjured arm and reached into
his pocket for his mobile. He speed-dialled Mo Khan's number,
willing his partner to pick up the phone.
He did, after three rings. Once again the noise of kids filled
the background.
'Hello, boss, any news?'
Bolt spoke rapidly. 'Call nine-nine-nine anonymously and
tell the police that you've just seen two young children being
manhandled into a flat at twenty-four Limestone Street in
Hendon, and you're absolutely sure that they're being held
against their will. Have you got that?'
'No problem. Do you want me to go over there?'
'Yes, go and check the place out, but don't get involved unless
there's no choice.' He could hear cars pulling into the driveway
at the front of the house now. 'And one other thing: we never
had this conversation. Understand?'

'Sure, boss, whatever you say.' He hung up without another
word.
Bolt exhaled loudly. Mo would do what he'd been requested
to do, he was sure of that. But their relationship had, in those
few moments, changed for ever.
He put the mobile back in his pocket and turned away, feeling
unsteady on his feet. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. It
made him want to throw up, but he held himself together,
knowing that only by keeping his wits about him was he going to
get out of this situation in one piece.
He clambered over the fence and began to walk slowly up the
garden towards the two black-clad armed police officers moving
carefully towards him, rifles outstretched.

48

I was at the front of the house, holding Kathy tightly, telling her
that the plainclothes cop who'd rescued us would find out where
Chloe and Max were being held while praying I was right, when
two police cars pulled into the driveway, sirens blaring, followed
by an ambulance. All three vehicles screeched to a halt and
three guys with rifles who looked like something out of Robocop jumped out of the first.
'We've had an emergency call,' shouted one of them, a bullet
headed guy in his thirties. 'Can you please put your hands on
you heads and step apart.'

'It's not us,' shouted Kathy in return, her face dirty and
tear-stained. 'They're at the bottom of the garden.'
'Please do as we say, madam,' demanded the cop, remaining
about twenty feet away. Although his weapon wasn't trained on
us, it wasn't exactly pointed away either. Behind him two more
officers, unarmed this time, stepped out of the other car. The
ambulance crew remained in their vehicle. More sirens blared in
the near distance.
We followed their instructions and kept our hands firmly on
our heads. It struck me that this was the fourth time in less than
twenty-four hours that someone had pulled a firearm on me.
'Now, can both of you get down on your knees, please?'
Kathy cursed audibly. She'd always had a rebellious attitude
to the police, her being a college lecturer and all. But these guys
didn't look like they were in the mood to be argued with, and I
was long past arguing anyway. I went down to my knees, and a
second later she followed.
'Is anyone hurt?' asked the cop.
'We're OK,' I answered, 'but the detective who rescued us ran
round the back after the man holding us.'
'He's got our kids,' added Kathy. 'The man who was holding
us has got our kids. Please make sure you don't kill him.'
'Is he armed?'
'Yes,' we both said. 'And there's another man in the cottage
as well,' I added, 'but he's unarmed. And hurt.'
'Has he been shot?'
'No.'
'We had reports of a gun battle. Who else was involved?'
I briefly told him what had happened, and he gave me a
puzzled look, as if he couldn't imagine a man like me with a gun.
I could see his point.

'OK, we're going to secure the area,' he told us. He then
spoke hurriedly to his two armed colleagues, who disappeared
round the back of the house.
Meanwhile a police Range Rover had pulled up on the side of
the road outside and disgorged a further three armed officers.
They came onto the drive and, after speaking to the bullet
headed cop, two of them peeled off and came over to me. I was
told to get to my feet again and was quickly and silently frisked
for weapons. 'He's clear,' called out one of the officers, and I was told I could go, although quite where I wasn't sure.
I walked forward and waited while an unarmed female
officer who'd appeared out of nowhere quickly frisked Kathy.
She gave her the all-clear and the two of us were led over to
the ambulance, where the two-man crew asked if we were all
right.
'We just want our kids,' I said, looking back over my shoulder.
'I'm sure they'll be fine,' said the older of the two.
'How the hell do you know?' demanded Kathy.
His colleague, a stocky guy in his twenties with a South
African accent, told her that the police were doing all they
could. His voice was soft and soothing, and as he spoke he sat
Kathy down on the driver's doorstep and crouched down to
check her out. I hoped he was right. When the detective who
rescued us had told me to get Kathy back to the house, there'd
been something in his lean, scarred features and sky-blue eyes I
don't think I've seen too many times before. It was moral
strength. This guy had signalled to me that he could handle
things. That he would somehow make the cold-hearted thug
talk. I'd known better than to doubt him.
But had he succeeded?
The older ambulanceman had an arm on my shoulder and was

offering me a bottle of water. I took it with a nod of thanks and
drank deeply, still looking back towards the house.
And then the detective came round the corner, several inches
taller than the two armed officers flanking him. One of them was
holding the pistol with the silencer in one hand. The detective's
eyes met mine and he looked grim-faced.
'Did he tell you where my kids are?' I asked, breaking free
from the ambulanceman.
The armed cop who wasn't holding the pistol put out an arm to
move me aside, but I brushed it away and stopped in front of him.
The detective stopped too. We were only three feet apart.
'He was armed. I had no choice but to shoot him.'
'Is he dead?' I asked incredulously.
He nodded. 'I think so. I'm sorry.'
I charged forward before either of the two cops could stop me,
grabbing the detective by the collar and shoving my face towards
his. 'Bastard!' I shouted, but I made sure my ear was by his
mouth so he could speak.
He said three words that filled me with elation: 'I've sorted it.'
Then something that sounded like 'I've got a guy going over
there.'
I was pulled off him and shoved away violently by one of the
armed cops. Kathy came running up to me.
'What's happened? What the hell happened?'

I yanked her as far away from any witnesses as possible. 'Act
upset,' I hissed at her, and she seemed to understand. 'He says
it's sorted, that Lench told him where the kids are. He's got
someone going over there.' I pulled her close and whispered that
Lench was dead.
'Good,' she said, and then, with an acting skill that I have to
say surprised me, she fell to her knees, crying.

Seconds later, the South African ambulanceman was down
comforting her and he and the woman police officer who'd
searched her a couple of minutes earlier helped her to her feet.
I turned away and saw our detective being put into one of the
police cars and the pistol with the silencer being bagged by an
officious-looking man in a raincoat who'd also appeared from
nowhere. The bottle of water was still in my hand and I took
another long drink, hoping he'd be all right.
But had I been a betting man I wouldn't have put money on it.

49

Mo Khan pulled into Limestone Road just before ten, a little
over twenty-five minutes after Bolt had called him. It was a quiet
residential road of post-war semi-detached housing that had
probably seen better days, and straight away he saw a small
cluster of police cars and ambulances double-parked on the
right-hand side about halfway up. They were blocking the road
and it was obvious there was no way past, but Mo drove up
anyway.
A young uniformed officer broke off from a small knot of
police gathered round the back of one of the ambulances and
walked into the middle of the road, holding up his hand. His
expression was irritated. Mo came to a halt a few feet in front of
him and let down his window. The officer came up to the
driver's side and Mo gave him a disarming smile.

'Excuse me, officer, I live down here. Is there a problem?'
The officer lost his irritated look. It was, thought Mo, always
amazing what politeness could do to win people over.
'I'm sorry, sir, there's no access. We've got an operation
ongoing.'
Mo feigned surprise. 'Nothing serious, I hope? This has always
been a quiet street, and I've got kids. I wouldn't like to think
there's anything going on that could affect them.'
'It's nothing for you to worry about, sir. I can promise you
that.'
'It's not drugs, is it? Tell me it's not drugs.'
The officer leaned down closer and gave him a conspiratorial
look. One man to another. 'To be honest, it looks like a home
alone case. A couple of children were left in the house down
there. Young ones.'
'God, how awful,' said Mo. 'Who the hell would do something
like that?'
'Well, we got an anonymous call from someone who said he
saw them being dragged into the house. That's why we've turned
up in force.'
'They're OK, though, are they? The kids?'
'They're fine. A bit upset, as you'd expect, but no physical
injuries. They're in the back of the ambulance at the moment,
but there was no-one in the house with them. I think it must
have been a concerned neighbour who called, and he said that
it was a kidnap just to make sure we turned up.' He shrugged
his shoulders to signify that this explanation would satisfy
him.
'As long as they're all right, that's the main thing,' said Mo.
'Thanks for letting me know.'
He said his goodbyes and reversed up the road. He'd done

what his boss had asked him to do, but he now wondered what
on earth had happened to lead the DI to the two kidnapped
children. He guessed that they were the Merons' kids, but the
way this investigation had twisted and turned he wouldn't have
been surprised if they'd turned out to be Lord Chief Justice
Parnham-Jones's illegitimate children from an affair with the
Prime Minister's wife.
Mo had known Mike Bolt for over two years. He trusted him
completely and had always been loyal to him. Even so, he was
worried. The boss had insisted he make the call to the police
anonymously, rather than go through the established channels.
There would only have been one reason for this: Bolt didn't
want anyone to know that it was he who'd got this information.
Which meant that he had to have got it illegally.
Mo wasn't naive enough to think that corners never got cut in
the pursuit of results. They did. He'd cut them himself on
occasion. So had the boss, who because of his background
in the Flying Squad had come up against some pretty vicious
villains. But something in his tone of voice when he'd called Mo,
the quiet desperation underlying the curtly delivered orders,
made him feel that this time it was different. That this time
the corners had been cut drastically. He'd reserve judgement
until he found out more, but he didn't like the feeling he was
getting.
As he drove, he called the boss's mobile on hands-free for an
update on the situation, but it was switched off. He didn't leave
a message.
Someone had once said to him that a man's first loyalty was to
his family, his second to his friends. The authorities, the state,
the law, all of these came a long way down the list. But this
wasn't what concerned Mo Khan. Mike Bolt was his friend, but

if he had to lie to protect him and by doing so perjure himself,
would he not be risking his career, and therefore the wellbeing
of his family?
It was a choice he hoped he didn't have to make.

50

The next hour passed in a blur. Kathy and I were both given a
cursory examination at the scene by a white-haired doctor who
kept muttering to himself. He pronounced us both fit and well,
which suggested a lack of observational skills on his part, before
disappearing round the back of the house to take a look at
Lench.
Kathy was then arrested by the officious-looking detective in
the raincoat on suspicion of the murder of Vanessa Blake. She
tried to protest, but did so without looking at me, and she didn't
resist as she was led away. She was driven off in a marked police
Escort with me following in a separate car. I was informed that
we were both being taken for separate questioning at Reading
police station. Officers from Reading CID wanted to interview
me about what had happened at the house; Southampton CID
were also interested in having a chat about events at our cottage
the previous night. Apparently, the body of a man had been
pulled from the wreckage and they wanted, quite reasonably I
suppose, to find out how he'd got there. I asked about Daniels
but neither of the officers driving me knew anything about

that. I assumed that meant he'd escaped. I hoped so. There'd
definitely been something not quite right about him, but he'd
saved my life at least once, possibly twice, and you've got to give
a person credit for that.
Five minutes from the station, as I sat in the back of the car,
still trying to come to terms with the fact that I'd beaten a
hardened criminal senseless and traded gunfire with a proven
killer, the police radio crackled into life, the voice on the other
end asking the driver if I was in the car. The driver said I was,
and the voice then informed us that Max and Chloe had been
found safe and well at an address in Hendon and had been taken
to the Royal Free Hospital as a precautionary measure. As soon
as I heard that, I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried for the
second time that day, so huge was my relief.
'It's OK,' said the officer in the front passenger seat, putting a
hand on my shoulder. 'Let it all out.'
So I did.