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.
Thirty-seven
The briefing was short and to the point. It focused purely on how the operation to follow the money, apprehend the kidnapper and rescue Emma was going to work. It seemed like a good plan with an extremely high chance of success to most people. To Bolt it was full of holes.
Afterwards, when he and Mo were in the Jaguar driving to Andrea's place in a convoy of cars containing the rest of the team, the canvas holdall with the half a million pounds locked safely in the boot, Mo asked him about the lead he'd been working on all day. Bolt knew he had to tell his friend the truth now, so he told him about his visits to Richardson's and Ridgers' addresses, leaving out the part where he beat the shit out of Richardson.
'Why didn't you tell me any of this earlier?' Mo asked.
'I didn't want you thinking that I'd lost control – you know, after what I told you yesterday.'
'But you spoke to Tina. Do you trust her more than me?'
'No, I don't. Of course not. I just wasn't sure what you'd say if I asked you to look up Ridgers' number. Also, Tina's got good contacts at the phone companies.'
'And you really think I wouldn't have helped you?' Mo looked deflated.
'Look, I'm sorry.'
Bolt wished he wasn't having this conversation. He wished too that he hadn't opened his mouth the previous day and put himself in such a vulnerable position with one of his most trusted colleagues.
'How did you get that bruise on your head? And the blood on your shirt?'
'I had an accident. Banged my head on the car doorframe.'
'I'm a detective, boss, not a ten-year-old.'
Bolt sighed. 'I broke into Richardson's place. He attacked me. We had a fight. That's how I got it.'
'What the hell is happening to you?' demanded Mo.
'What's happening to me is that it could be my daughter who's imprisoned by the kind of scum who've already killed at least twice, and so won't hesitate a single minute to kill again. That's what's happening. OK?'
'But you can't go round breaking into people's houses and having fights with them. It's just not the way to get things done.'
'What is the way, then? Tell me!'
'To focus,' snapped Mo. 'To focus on making sure this operation's a success. Not on running round on a wild goose chase.'
'It's not a wild goose chase.'
'It is, boss. What proof have you got that either of them has any involvement whatsoever? Absolutely none.' Mo shook his head angrily. 'If it wasn't so bloody late in the day, I'd be talking to Barry about it right now.'
They continued the rest of the journey in brooding silence. They'd never argued before, not like this. They'd had the occasional niggling disagreement and cross words, but it had never got anywhere near the position they were in now. Mo was openly questioning his ability to do the job, and, though Bolt desperately didn't want to admit it, he had some justification too. Another line had been crossed, one from which it was going to be a hard journey back, and he knew exactly whose fault it was.