Deadline

Thirty-six

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.