Deadline

'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.

Thirty-eight

It was after five when he and Mo left the convoy and turned into Andrea's street, having been given the all-clear by the surveillance team watching the house. It was the third time in a little over twenty-four hours that he'd been here, and each time Bolt arrived he felt worse than the time before. He couldn't help wondering how he was going to be feeling the next time he came – if there was a next time.

Heaving the bag containing the money out of the boot, he walked to the gate in silence, Mo following behind. Marie the liaison officer buzzed them through. She was wearing a more concerned expression than usual as she opened the door to him.

'Still no word from the kidnappers,' she told him.

'How's Andrea?'

'She's bearing up, but her nerves are shot with all this waiting. I think all of ours are.'

It was the first sign from Marie that she was getting personally involved in the case. Bolt wasn't surprised. Liaison officers might be highly trained but they were still human, and, he noted wryly, someone like Andrea had always been good at tugging on other people's heartstrings.

'They'll be in contact soon enough,' he said, nodding to Matt Turner who'd poked his head round the door of the study. 'Is she upstairs?' he asked Marie.

'She's in the lounge,' she answered quietly. 'She's been there most of the afternoon. She said she wanted to be left alone.'

Andrea was on the same sofa she'd been on yesterday afternoon. Apart from the change of clothes – she was smarter today, in a white blouse and black knee-length skirt – she might as well not have moved. Her haunted, almost hypnotized expression remained the same, and she only gave him the barest of glances as he and Mo entered the room.

Bolt felt a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to take her in his arms, but he fought it back down. He put the holdall on the floor between them and took a seat opposite her. Mo remained standing near the door.

'They haven't called, Mike.'

'I know. But they will. They want the money, Andrea. That's their sole motivation for this.'

She stared into space. 'I can't lose her. I… I just don't know what I'd do.'

Bolt leaned forward in the seat, willing her to look at him. 'You've got to be strong, Andrea. Do you understand?'

'OK,' she said quietly in a voice that didn't fill Bolt with confidence. For the first time he wondered if she'd be able to do what they needed her to do.

'For Emma's sake.'

She nodded, a little more decisively this time, and looked down at the holdall.

'Is that the money?'

'Yes. There's a tracking device attached to the lining on the inside. It's so small it'll be almost impossible to find. There are also two further devices, also very tiny, attached to the notes inside.'