Ultimatum

Sixty-four

20.55

Mike Bolt’s head hurt like hell, but he was feeling a lot better than he had three-quarters of an hour earlier when he’d been hit by whatever it was he’d been hit by.

Since then he’d been sick twice, and ordered to go to hospital by the doctor who’d treated him at the scene, but he’d steadfastly refused. While he could still stand, he wanted to be involved, which was exactly what he was saying now to Commander Ingrams as he paced the street with the phone pushed against the bandage that had been wrapped round his head. ‘I’ve worked this case from the beginning. I’ve been involved in everything all day. And the fact is, I don’t want to stop now.’ He was at a crossroads a hundred yards from Azim Butt’s ruined townhouse, the sound of it burning still clearly audible. To his left, the Shard stood like a tall, wounded giant breathing smoke and fire, a symbol of his failure.

‘Listen, Mike,’ said Ingrams in a weary voice that told Bolt he’d already made up his mind, ‘we really appreciate all your efforts, and your bravery today, but there’s nothing more you can do.’

‘Have we caught the shooter yet?’

‘No. And we haven’t brought in Cecil Boorman yet either. Or the man he’s supposed to be working for, Cain.’

‘So there’s still plenty to do.’

‘It’s in hand, Mike.’

‘You need to talk to Jones. He might be able to help.’

‘We would do, but we can’t find him. We sent two officers round to his home address, and he wasn’t answering the door.’

Bolt tensed. This wasn’t good. ‘Did they try to get inside?’

‘The door was locked and we haven’t got a warrant to break it down. I’ve had to pull the officers away for other duties.’

‘Let me go up there. He might be back now. Come on, sir. It’s not as if I’m on my deathbed.’

‘Sorry, Mike. According to the doctor, you’ve got concussion. I can’t let you carry on. You need to get to a hospital straight away.’

Knowing he wasn’t going to win this particular battle, Bolt conceded defeat and ended the call.

He took a deep breath, shivering against the cold. Ingrams and the doctor were right. He needed to go to hospital. But he’d always been a stubborn man, and fiercely competitive too. Tina had been in the firing line just as much as him today, and yet she was the one taking Fox to the safehouse. He was also worried about Jones. There was no reason for him suddenly to go AWOL. Two hours ago he’d been fully prepared to make a statement, and had promised to wait at the pub for the guys from CTC to pick him up. Which meant that either something bad had happened to him or, more likely, he’d turn up again soon.

Bolt might have been officially off duty, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go and have a look for him. After all, he was the one who’d got Jones involved in all this in the first place. Maybe he’d stop in at a hospital afterwards if his headache failed to dissipate.

Having made the decision to carry on, and immediately feeling better for it, he walked back up towards the police cordon. It was time to retrieve Islington nick’s battered Ford Focus and make himself useful once again.