A Good day to die

38

It all made sense. They'd had an inside link on the police investigation from the beginning, and it had to have been someone senior. Barron was a DCI, an officer privy to the most confidential information on the inquiry, including the name of the prime suspect: Billy West. He could have leaked the name without drawing suspicion to himself. And it had been Barron who'd been to see Dr Cheney asking questions about Ann; who'd not said anything to anyone else about what he was doing. And doubtless, it had been him too who'd been feeding Emma with the stories linking Nicholas Tyndall to the Khan/Malik murders, as he'd worked to deflect attention away from the true culprits.

Outside it was dark and the traffic on the main road had built up. I fumbled in my coat pocket for my phone and switched it on hurriedly. My hands were shaking and I silently cursed the fact that Emma had ever become involved in this case, and that I hadn't done more to stop her.

The phone rang to indicate that there was a message. I pressed the callback button and waited while the number rang twice.

It was Emma. She sounded breathless and excited. Static screeched in the background. 'Sorry about this, Dennis, but the job's got the better of me. I'm on the hard shoulder of the M4, somewhere near Swindon. I've just had a call from Simon Barron. He thinks he's onto something, but he's worried. He's saying that the people we're looking for have definitely got an insider on the murder squad. He wants to meet me at some offices over in Wembley. He says there's someone there he wants to introduce me to.' She gave me an address, adding that it was on an industrial estate near the new stadium. 'He must have found out about your involvement as well. Not that he knows who you really are, of course, but he knows that you're an investigator working the case, and that you've been speaking to Jamie Delly and Dr Cheney. And also that you've been helping me. He said I should call and get you over there, too. So I'm driving up there now. It's…' there was a pause while she checked her watch, 'five to one, and I'm about an hour and a half away. Hopefully, see you there. Call me. I really think we could be onto something here. Talk soon. Bye.'

The world seemed to melt around me, and the cars passing by became lost, watery silhouettes as I realized that I was too late, and that I'd surely helped Emma Neilson into her grave. An hour and a half away at five to one. It was now five past four. Even if she'd hit heavy traffic and got lost, and her journey had taken double the time, she'd still be there by now. And possibly dead.

The message ended, and I scrabbled at the phone with shaking hands, pressing 5 for redial.

Her mobile rang. And rang. Then went to voice-mail. I left a message as I hurried down the road towards the car. 'Do not go to that meeting with Simon Barron,' I shouted into the mouthpiece, making no effort to hide the panic in my voice. 'He's the insider on the murder squad, the one we want. If you go to that meeting, he'll kill you. I'm serious. If you get this message, call me back straight away.'

I rang off, then listened to her message again, writing down the address of the meeting place in my notebook. The car was two minutes' walk away — one minute if I ran — and I was on the right side of town for Wembley, so, traffic permitting, I had a chance of making it there in the next half-hour.

A cold wind whipped across the Colindale Road and I pulled up the collar of my jacket and tried to do the distance in a minute, running as fast as I could and dodging between faceless passers-by, not knowing what I was going to find when I finally stopped.