Ultimatum

Thirty-seven

17.48

After a twenty-minute argument with Islington nick’s chief superintendent, Mike Bolt finally managed to get out of his office with his job and his position still intact. The chief super was furious at the way an op on his patch had degenerated into a hail of gunfire in broad daylight, and that the captured suspect was now claiming he’d been violently assaulted by one of his arresting officers, and had injuries that appeared to back up his claim. The fact that the arresting officer was Tina Boyd had only added to his fury. It seemed the chief super didn’t have particularly fond memories of Tina’s tenure at the station.

On one hand, Bolt could see his point of view: the whole thing had almost ended in disaster thanks to Tina staying in Brozi’s house after she’d been told to leave. Yet the fact remained that the photos she’d found on his phone represented a hugely important lead. They linked that day’s bombings with Fox, and with the Stanhope attacks that Bolt had spent the previous fifteen months investigating. Fox might not be cooperating, but if Brozi talked, they might be able to break the case wide open before the terrorists’ eight p.m. deadline.

It frustrated Bolt that he couldn’t question Brozi himself, but at least now the CTC team had arrived at Islington and were fully aware of how urgent their task was. He took a deep breath. He needed a coffee. In fact, he needed a couple of cold pints and a whisky chaser to settle his nerves after what he’d been through that day. But a coffee was going to have to suffice because it was going to be a while yet before he’d be getting off duty.

That didn’t matter, though. He might have come within a few feet of getting shot, but for the first time in a long time, he actually felt good. Months of tedious detective work and repeated dead ends had been swept aside, and suddenly he was seeing action again, just like in those long-ago days when he’d been part of the Flying Squad, chasing down armed robbers in adrenalin-fuelled ambushes. And, whichever way he cared to look at it, most of what had happened today was down to Tina Boyd. An hour ago he’d been furious with her for taking the kind of extreme risks she always did, but now that fury was subsiding.

He was en route to the canteen when Tina appeared in the corridor up ahead talking to a very tall, gangly young man in an ill-fitting suit.

She smiled when she saw him. ‘Mike, this is Mr Ridic, the Albanian translator. He’s going to be assisting CTC with the Brozi interview.’

‘Good to meet you,’ said Bolt, shaking hands. He turned to Tina as Ridic excused himself. ‘I thought you were meant to be giving a statement.’

‘I’ve made it. It didn’t take long. I mean, the shooting was all over in a few seconds, wasn’t it?’ She gave him a look that suggested there hadn’t been any problems. ‘They want to see you now.’

‘Anything I should know?’

‘Only that I told them that Brozi was resisting arrest, and I only struck him once to make sure he released the gun.’

‘I heard Brozi’s claiming you assaulted him.’

Tina shrugged. ‘Well, he would do, wouldn’t he? But you know better, right?’

Bolt sighed. ‘Don’t worry, Tina, I’ve got your back.’ Then he remembered something. ‘Did you speak to Mr Ridic about the email message on Brozi’s PC?’

She nodded. ‘He translated it for me but I don’t know how much use it is.’

‘What did it say?’

‘Hold on a second.’ She pulled a scuffed notebook from the back of her jeans. ‘The exact wording was “Collection confirmed. Place and time as agreed.” But I’ve no idea what it means. Maybe Brozi will enlighten us.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Bolt, and moved to go past her, wanting to get his statement over and done with.

And then it hit him. Jones had told him earlier that he was needed as security for a meeting during which something was going to be handed over. Could this be something to do with the collection in Brozi’s email? He needed to talk to Jones as soon as possible.

Bolt was always extremely careful about calling his informant unless it was an emergency, in order to minimize the risk of compromising him, but he decided that this was one. Excusing himself, he called Jones’s number, but only got an automatic message saying the phone was switched off.

He immediately called Nikki Donohoe in the Special Operations office.

She answered on the first ring. ‘Glad to hear you’re still alive, boss. Sounds like you’re getting all the action out there.’

Bolt chuckled. He liked Nikki. She didn’t let things faze her. ‘Luckily Brozi was a crap shot.’

‘I heard your Miss Boyd gave him a bit of a kicking.’

‘He resisted arrest. Listen, Nikki. Those two GPS units I signed out for our informant this morning — I need you to switch them on right now, and tell me where they are.’

Bolt paced the corridor while he waited for her to input the data. There was still no absolute proof that today’s bombs were linked to the Stanhope attacks, but the fact that Fox had fingered Brozi, and that Brozi himself was linked to the cafe bomber, meant that it was extremely likely. Again, that didn’t necessarily mean that Cecil Boorman and his mysterious boss, Cain, were also involved. But with barely two hours to go until the terrorists’ ultimatum expired, it was something they needed to find out fast.

After a few seconds, Nikki came back on the line. ‘Both units are together in Bermondsey about three quarters of a mile south of the river.’

Bolt thought about this. He’d told Jones to call him if Cain or Cecil had made contact with him, and he hadn’t. ‘OK, keep me posted of their movements.’

‘Does this mean I’m going to be needed late tonight, Mike? If I am, I need to let the old man know so he can get back from work and sort out the kids.’

‘Yeah, you are. Sorry about that.’

He felt for Nikki. Unlike him, she had a family life to juggle. But right now that wasn’t his top priority.

Suddenly Jones was. What the hell was he doing?