he picked it up, along with the medical kit containing the diazepam.
It was time to make the final preparations.
Thirty-two
16.52
Islington Nick held plenty of memories for Tina Boyd. She’d done two stints there as a detective — the first for four years, the second for two. It was the place where she’d fallen in love for the first and only time in her life. DI John Gallan had been her boss, a good-looking, good-hearted man who’d been snatched away from her far too quickly.
She didn’t miss the place. It was a big ugly building next door to an even uglier Sainsbury’s superstore, and most of the memories only made her unhappy on those few occasions she chose to dwell on them. It was, after all, events that had happened there that had driven her to alcoholism and the steady decline into darkness that had followed.
So it was with a hint of trepidation that she stepped through the doors, nodding briefly to a couple of civilian workers she didn’t recognize who were smoking just outside, and went into the reception area. The first thing she noticed was that there was no sense of urgency as a result of the bombs that morning and the terrorists’ ultimatum that had followed. The custody sergeant, an old timer called Barnes, was booking in a smiling drunk who appeared to have forgotten his own name and who was having to be held up by two PCSOs, while a second prisoner — young and feral — was arguing loudly with his escort as they tried to get him through the door to the cells. Other people — the lawyers, the civilian workers and the civilians caught up in the police system — wandered in and out, ignoring the dramas going on around them.
Mike Bolt was already in reception. ‘The interview team should be here in the next fifteen minutes,’ he said as they took the stairs to the second floor of the building. ‘But Brozi’s refusing to say a word without his lawyer present, and we’re not expecting him until five thirty. Plus he wants an Albanian translator, and we’re still trying to sort one out.’
‘He spoke English well enough to me,’ said Tina.
Bolt frowned. ‘The problem is, he’s not acting like a man who’s scared. I think his experience of the British justice system has made him pretty complacent.’
‘I’d have thought the fact that he’s being charged with the attempted murder of two police officers would have concentrated his mind.’
‘You know what it’s like, Tina. In this business, nothing’s cut and dried.’
And it wasn’t. A clever lawyer could easily twist the facts to suit his client’s case, particularly as none of the bullets Brozi had fired had come anywhere near hitting either her or Bolt. Ironically, it would have been a lot better for the case, and for scaring Brozi into cooperating, if one of them had actually been shot.
‘Listen, Mike,’ she said as they walked out of the lift and turned in the direction of the CID offices, ‘that message on Brozi’s PC might be a clue to something. Can you run it by the Albanian translator whenever he turns up?’ She took out her mobile. ‘I photographed it on here.’
‘Text me the photo and I’ll see what I can do,’ he said, not sounding particularly interested.
By now they were in an empty office where two phones sat on a desk with chairs at either end. ‘We’ve set up the secure line so you can talk to Fox from here.’ His expression was tense as he looked at her. ‘If he knows the names of the people involved in the attacks today, and he wants to help himself, then he’s got to tell us now, because we’re running short on time.’
‘Let’s get on with it then,’ said Tina, picking up one of the phones, while Bolt picked up the other so he could listen in.
After being patched through to the prison governor’s office, and given a short lecture from Governor Goodman on how talking to a prisoner like this was highly unorthodox, she was rerouted to the office where Fox had been taken along with his escort to receive the call.
‘So the lead I gave you this morning was useful?’ said Fox calmly as he came on the line.
‘We have Mr Brozi in custody, yes.’
‘Would that have anything to do with the events in Islington this afternoon?’
‘How do you know about them?’
‘I’ve got a TV in my cell, and I like to keep up with current affairs. It’s all over the news that two police officers were shot at by an armed man, who was arrested at the scene. It was Brozi, wasn’t it?’
Tina could tell he was trying to knock her off balance, as he’d done that morning. It was working too. The speed with which the media covered events, and Fox’s own access to their coverage, meant that even in prison he was only a few steps behind them. Briefly, she told him what had happened.
‘I’m impressed,’ he said when Tina had finished. ‘You get shot at by a suspect and still you stay on duty. I admire you. I really do.’
Tina ignored him. ‘We’ve found evidence that links Brozi to the attacks this morning. Which links them to what happened at the Stanhope.’
‘Exactly as I predicted.’
‘But we still need the names of the people involved.’
‘I know you do,’ said Fox, a hard edge to his voice. ‘But you need to help me first.’
‘We’re already in the process of organizing your move to a safehouse but it requires approval at the highest level. We can’t move you before tomorrow.’ Tina glanced across at Bolt as she said this, and he gave her an approving nod. ‘If you give me another name, you’ll put yourself in a very advantageous position ahead of your trial.’
Fox grunted dismissively. ‘Surely you can do better than that, Tina. You’ve got a reputation for getting things done. That’s why I chose to see you and not some patsy in a cheap suit bound by all the rules.’
‘Like I said, the authorities are prepared to cut a deal with you, I can guarantee that. And you
‘And when I’ve got that in writing, and I’m in this safehouse, then I’ll help you. But not until then.’
Tina felt her frustration building. She pictured Fox on the other end of the phone, a smug expression on his face. A man with an ordinary demeanour but who’d been responsible for dozens of murders and felt not a moment’s remorse. She wanted to grab him by his short, thinning hair and drive his head into the table again and again. To make him spill his guts and tell her everything he knew.
But she couldn’t.
And he knew it.
‘Get me out of here and we’ll talk,’ he said quietly.
‘I can’t get you out of there tonight. I’ve just told you that.’
‘Then put me on to someone who can. Or as far as I’m concerned, this conversation’s over.’
Tina was aware of Bolt shaking his head beside her, warning her to take it easy. But she no longer cared.
‘If people die because you won’t help-’
‘Then what?’ he said. ‘What’ll you do exactly?’
‘I’ll fuck you up. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t know how I’ll do it, but make no mistake, I will.’
Fox let out a dismissive sigh. ‘You won’t have to. If you leave me in here, other people will do it for you. And then it’ll be too late. For both of us.’
Thirty-three
17.25
Night was closing in fast as the car headed south through Bermondsey, passing through a series of featureless industrial estates and retail parks in the direction of the Old Kent Road.
