‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just checking. I’ll take the car.’
His eyes followed her all the way. She nodded to him as she got in, reversed out of the parking space. At the first set of traffic lights, she texted Boxer for a postcode and street number. He sent it, asking her if she thought it was wise to come. She ignored the question, tapped the postcode into the sat nav and drove.
She writhed at every set of lights and at times found herself close to tears. What had happened to her? She’d always been so sure of herself, or at least so sure of that one thing about herself. She knew she had great potential to be an emotional mess; the darkness in her childhood, her broken, downcast mother, the cruelty of her father had all contributed to that. But the one thing that had held her together through all the years of neediness with Charlie, the uncertainty of Amy’s paternity, the terrible conflict with her daughter, the endless battle of the job, was that at least she had something inside her cast in steel. It was possibly the only thing that she had taken on board from her father: an unshakeable morality.
And now?
The way she’d given in so easily. Sitting there with Charlie in the café with all the comfortable people sipping their espressos and telling him, yes, do it, kill them all. But now they’re real, sitting on the floor of a living room in Lewisham, waiting for the word. So that she can carry on working in the kidnap unit? So that nobody finds out that she’s having an affair with a known fence from Brixton?
And how had it come to pass that she’d accepted the unacceptable about Charlie? Had she gone through some process of justification without being aware of it? She remembered lying in bed next to him after he’d come back from Iraq, knowing that he’d killed people: soldiers as innocent as him who just happened to be on the wrong side. She’d asked him how he coped with it and he’d shrugged and said:
‘You step over a line when you join the army.’
What line had she just stepped over?
She parked in an adjacent street and walked round to the address Boxer had sent her. She had plastic cuffs with her as requested. Boxer opened the door, let her in, stepped back quickly to keep an eye on his captives. She gave him the ties and he cuffed the Rylances together, lying down with linked arms behind their backs.
Boxer handed over the mobile phone.
‘Any numbers on there you need traced?’
‘It’s been remotely wiped so you’re going to have to recover the data, but I’m sure you’ve got people who can do that,’ said Boxer. ‘Somebody from the kidnap gang is due here to collect it.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘You’re going to deal with him – or her – too?’ she said, under her breath.
Boxer looked at her steadily.
‘I’ll spell it out for you if you like,’ he said.
She nodded.
‘These two are due to take over the supervision of two hostages who I’m assuming are Marcus and Amy. As soon as the kidnap unit hears that, everything is out of our hands. They’ll find out about your relationship with Marcus and why he’s being held. You’ll be finished. The person who comes to pick up the phone—’
‘OK, that’s enough.’
‘Stealing people is wrong,’ said Boxer. ‘Remember that. These two kidnapped Rakesh Sarkar. They didn’t even know why. I’ve asked them. Was it for money? How did they know that Jensen didn’t want to torture and kill him because he hated the guy’s father? No, they stole him, handed him over and took a hundred grand for the work.’
Mercy stared into the wall of the corridor, where they were standing by the front door.
‘The guy who ordered Marcus’s kidnap is the one who’s been knifed in the Royal London, Chuck Powell,’ said Boxer, glancing in on the two captives. ‘Jess, the girl he asked to arrange the gang, is dead. He broke her neck. I met the two guys who actually performed the kidnap last night. They run cigarettes out of a warehouse in south London owned by a white Bahamian.’
‘Oh God,’ said Mercy, making a fist against the wall, putting her forehead to it. ‘You mean there are even more people involved. And Chuck Powell … we can’t do anything about him.’
‘He might not survive that stab wound.’
‘He’s stable in ICU. They won’t let him die.’
‘So what’s it to be?’
‘Let me talk to them.’
‘It’ll be more difficult if you decide you want me to deal with them.’
‘I can’t …’ she said, and tried to brush past him.
‘You’d better take this,’ said Boxer, and gave her Rylance’s Beretta. She put it in her coat pocket and went into the sitting room.
As soon as she saw them lying there on the floor, these two pitiful trussed-up human beings with fear in their eyes, she knew she wasn’t going to allow it. What had she been thinking?
‘I’m DI Mercy Danquah from the kidnap unit,’ she said, and held her warrant card in front of their noses.
The relief spread through them. Boxer sat down at the table by the window.
‘These are their phones,’ he said, pushing them towards Mercy.
‘Right, let’s start with the names and numbers of everybody you’ve had dealings with in the kidnap gang,’ she said.
Louise gave her four names: Conrad Jensen, Chuck Powell, Mark Lee and Jim Ford. The last two had been their fellow coppers when they’d stopped Rakesh Sarkar for drink-driving. Mercy went through the mobiles. Only the last two names had numbers.
As she was searching, a message arrived on one of the mobiles.
‘The guy who’s coming to pick up the phone will be here in seven minutes,’ she said. ‘Is there a procedure for this?’
‘He knows my face,’ said Rylance. ‘He’ll come to the door. I’ll hand over the phone. He’ll know its make and model number. He’ll check it and leave. That’s it.’
‘Where will he take it?’
‘That I don’t know.’
‘How do you want to play it?’ Boxer asked Mercy. ‘Hand over the phone and follow, or pull him in?’
‘Not enough manpower for a tail,’ said Mercy. ‘You can’t do that on your own and the phone’s too important to lose.’
Boxer knelt down, released Rylance, recuffed his wife to a piece of furniture. He took the mobile phone, put it in Rylance’s hand, walked him to the front door.
‘This is how it’s going to happen,’ he said, seeing the fear in Rylance’s eyes. ‘When he calls, you open the door just to the point of your left shoulder, give him the phone with your right hand, keep your right shoulder to the wall. There’ll be a gun on your spine. That’s all you need to know.’
They went back to the sitting room, sat him down in an armchair. Mercy continued to interview Louise.
‘Tell me what happened after you kidnapped Rakesh Sarkar. Where did you take him, who did what?’
‘Mark Lee took the Porsche and parked it in Sarkar’s street somewhere. Mike was driving the police car, Jim Ford was in the passenger seat. I was in the back with Sarkar. We dropped Jim off somewhere around Chiswick.’
‘And when you delivered Rakesh to the Old Vinyl Factory in Hayes, what did you see there?’
‘We just told your friend that ours was the first kidnap of the night. We reversed into a loading bay and two men came and took Rakesh away. We left. We didn’t speak to anyone and we only saw those two guys.’
Footsteps shuffled along the pavement. Boxer checked the time. Too soon. They carried on past.
‘You were in a police car,’ said Mercy, ‘and in uniform. What did you do with those things?’
‘No, of course, you’re right,’ said Louise, struggling under the stress of the situation.
‘Come on, Louise. Let’s get this straight in our minds now. Don’t hold things back.’
‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘We had to leave the car. They needed it for another kidnap. A driver took us back into town.’
‘And the uniforms?’
‘We had to take the uniforms o
ff.’
‘Where? In the loading bay?’
‘No, they took us into a room and we changed into paper overalls.’
‘So who picked the car up in the first place, before the kidnap?’
‘Mark Lee. He was the driver. He was supposed to drive us back that night but he wanted a go in the Porsche.’
‘And where did you meet to put on the uniforms?’
Louise blinked, staring into the floor, then glanced up at her husband, who nodded once.
‘Always easier to tell the truth,’ said Mercy. ‘You don’t and I’ll have you in knots.’
‘We met in Mark Lee’s flat. He’d given Jim the keys. We changed there.’
‘Let’s have that address.’
‘Longlands Court, just off the Portobello Road. Jim met us at the tube and brought us there.’
Rylance watched his wife lying on the floor. She had the look of an animal trussed for slaughter. He could see, even as she answered Mercy’s questions, the future playing out in her mind. Prison. For a long time. There was the fatigue of regret in her voice, even in her strong, desirable body. It made him sad that they’d given in to the money. He hadn’t thought they were like that. She sensed his gaze, looked up at him, and he saw the permission given in her eyes.
More steps. This time they turned up the path to the front door. There was a knock. Boxer pointed at Rylance, raised him to his feet with his finger. They went silently to the door. Boxer stood behind it, put the gun to Rylance’s left kidney, nodded. Rylance opened the door, gave a sideways glance to the man outside as he made to hand over the phone, and then smacked the door hard into Boxer’s face.
The blow knocked the gun away from his kidney and it slammed into the wall, jolting Boxer’s trigger finger. The shot tore into the floor. Boxer fell back, eyebrow split, blinded by blood in his right eye, ears ringing from the deafening shot in the confined space.
The man outside knew instantly what he had to do and threw himself at Boxer’s gun hand. Rylance vaulted over him, ran into the living room and launched himself at Mercy. The gunshot had been all the warning she’d needed. She had the Beretta out. Louise screamed with alarm. Mercy fired twice, hitting Rylance in the chest. He went down face first as if his feet had been kicked out from under him.
Boxer was dazed from the front door cracking into his forehead. The man had wrestled the Walther P99 from his slackening hand.
Mercy took four strides to the corridor to find the Walther P99 pointing up at her from the floor. She didn’t hesitate and shot the man in the head. Blood sprayed against the white corridor wall. Two more steps and she kicked the front door shut.
‘You all right?’ she said. ‘You’re bleeding.’
Boxer nodded. He was lying with the man’s weight across his chest.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, pushing the body away.
Mercy went back into the living room. Rylance was still alive. He’d reached out a hand to his wife, who was staring at him wide-eyed with horror.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘You’re an idiot,’ said Mercy. ‘A bloody idiot.’
And those were the words that Rylance took with him to the other side.
Louise blinked hard, as if this might alter the terrible image scored into her mind.
Mercy looked up at the ceiling, gathered herself, closed her eyes, trying to shut out what she’d just had to do. She took a deep breath and called DCS Hines.
‘There’s been an incident at 38 Algernon Road in Lewisham. It’s quite possible that there will be reports of gunshots from neighbours. This is a continuing operation and it’s imperative that no police come anywhere near the house.’
‘Has anyone been hurt?’
‘Two kidnappers have been shot dead,’ said Mercy. ‘You will get a full report just as soon as the operation is completed.’
Hines tried to ask more questions. Mercy was having none of it and hung up.
She looked down at Louise, who stared back at her with an implacable hatred.
‘You’ve got no cause to look at me like that,’ said Mercy. ‘If he’d done as he’d been told, he’d still be alive.’
Boxer came in with a butterfly strip, found in the bathroom, over his eyebrow. He checked Rylance for life. He knew from the hole in the back of the other guy’s head that he was dead. He knelt down beside Louise, who closed her eyes.
‘Tell us about this line of code you need to take over the hostage supervision this afternoon.’
Louise said nothing.
‘You know I’m going to stop at nothing to get this information out of you,’ said Boxer. ‘I’m not under the same constraints as my friend here. So make it easy for yourself.’
Louise slowly opened her eyes.
Rylance’s mobile went off. Mercy reached over.
36 Arran Road SE6 at 16.00.
Then Louise’s mobile flashed and vibrated.
Punish the innocent.
The first £25 million arrived at New Scotland Yard just after two o’clock. The bank had followed the instructions precisely. The money had been loosely stacked on a large plastic sheet, which had been folded around the notes to the dimensions laid down in the kidnappers’ demands. Ray Sutherland had told DCS Hines that he had the agreement of the hostages’ parents to install ‘undetectable tracking devices’. A member of the kidnap unit’s technology department was present as a CIA operative inserted the device supplied by the CIA. It was the size of a fifty-pound note and about as thick as three of them stuck together. They tested the device and taped up the plastic sheet.
Over the next hour and a half the remaining £125 million arrived. Tracking devices were inserted into each batch and they were loaded on to the open truck.
At 15.38, DCS Hines was informed that all the money had arrived and had been loaded on to the truck. An email was sent to the kidnappers, who responded.
At exactly four o’clock the truck will leave its present location at New Scotland Yard fully loaded with all the money. Each parcel of money should be loaded in such a way that it can be easily lifted off the truck. We suggest ropes connected to a central hook that can be attached to the truck’s lifting gear. There will be no escort for this truck from police or otherwise. There must be no air cover. The only person in the truck will be the driver, who will have a mobile phone and you will give us that number. We will direct him to a place where he will drop his own phone and pick up our disposable one. This must be the only device he carries. We are making the assumption that you have not been foolish enough to try to plant tracking devices on the truck or in the money. If any such devices are found, it will result in the death of one of the hostages.
DCS Hines made a recorded call to Ray Sutherland, who confirmed that he had seen the kidnappers’ email and reiterated that he had been given permission by all the parents to install the devices.
26
15.55, 17 January 2014
Catford, London SE6
Mercy was driving to Catford. Boxer sat in the back with Louise, who no longer wore the cuffs. She rubbed her wrists occasionally where the plastic had chafed. Mercy parked in a street parallel to the one where they believed Amy and Alleyne were being held.
Mercy asked Louise to stay in the car while she told Boxer what she’d learnt from Emma about Jensen and his interest in Ken Bass and the CIA officers, Ray Sutherland and Clifford Chase. She also mentioned Ryder, and what he’d revealed about Jennifer Cook’s interrogation.
‘There’s a political dimension to this that I don’t get,’ she said.
‘Well, it seems to be left versus right,’ said Boxer. ‘We just don’t know who’s facing off, where the battlefield is or what they’re fighting for.’
Boxer and Louise set off for the four o’clock rendezvous at the house. He was no longer carrying the Walther P99. To be consistent with what had happened in Lewisham, he’d agreed with Mercy that he should carry Michael Rylance’s Beretta 92 Compact Rail.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,??
? he said as they walked. ‘You know that.’
‘You’re what?’ asked Louise, looking across at him, astonished.
‘I lost somebody important to me yesterday,’ he said, thinking, Was it only yesterday? ‘I’m sorry for what happened back there today.’
She stared at him. He had to pull her to one side out of the way of a lamp post.
‘How long were you married?’ he asked.
‘Nine years. We got married as soon as we came back from Iraq in 2005.’
‘No kids?’
‘I couldn’t have any. I got a piece of shrapnel in the gut from an IED outside Basra and they took everything out.’
Boxer was surprised at his interest. For some reason he had to know, or at least talk about it.
‘Did you love your husband?’ he asked.
Louise didn’t answer at first, had to get used to the surreal situation. This man, who’d come across earlier as a psychopath, was now revealing himself as human.
‘It was strange,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think I did love him when we got married. I wondered whether I was doing the right thing, my friends, too. Michael and I had grown very close in Iraq, but that was a weird, intense scenario. I had no idea how we’d be in the real world. Then three weeks after we’d done the deed, I realised I couldn’t live without him. He suddenly made sense to me.’
They turned into Arran Road, checked the house numbers and went right.
‘Did you work for Conrad before this?’ asked Boxer. ‘Or see him at any time in the last nine years?’
‘No, he just contacted us out of the blue. We were desperate for money, behind on our mortgage repayments.’
‘What did you make of Conrad?’
‘I really liked him. He was charismatic without being arrogant, generous without demanding anything in return. He listened. You know what rich men are like? They use false generosity to get you to do their bidding, but they don’t care what you want, they’re really only focused on what they want. Conrad wasn’t like that.’
‘Was that why you were prepared to do something illegal for him?’