serious traffic congestion. The operation to clear the area to allow police forensic teams and ambulances in was being further complicated by an apparently unrelated outbreak of fighting between rival fans further up on White Hart Lane. The competing blare of sirens filled the air as Mo, Bolt and Tina stood beside one of a line of police vehicles clustered round the corner from the street where the body of suspect two still lay where it had fallen. Andrea was in the back of one of the cars, sitting with her legs out, holding a plastic bottle of water.
The mood among everyone at the scene was one of complete shock. The operation had been a complete failure. Half a million pounds of taxpayers' money had walked away from right under their noses; worse than that, a member of the public had been killed, one of the team's own number seriously wounded, and the one suspect they had managed to apprehend had decided to go out in a blaze of glory rather than be taken alive. It couldn't really have gone any more wrong. The only positive was that, unlike the stabbed fan, Turner was still alive, although the seriousness of his condition wasn't yet known. He'd been airlifted to the Homerton Hospital in Hackney whose expertise in dealing with knife injuries, honed through years of practice, was legendary, so he was in the best possible hands. Even so, as they all knew, that might not be enough.
Bolt felt as if he'd done ten rounds boxing a man twice his size and speed whose speciality was headshots. He couldn't seem to think straight, was finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that he and his people were being outthought and outfought by the men who'd taken Emma. He knew he couldn't give up, but standing there among the wreckage of the op, he was getting perilously close.
'What happened, Andrea?' he asked. 'We lost communication with you after you stopped to pick up the package.'
'I got a call on the phone that was in it. It was Emma screaming.'
Bolt swallowed. Told himself to keep calm.
'Just this one terrified scream. Then it cut out and he came on the line. He said that this time Emma was screaming out of fear, but the next time it would be out of pain, unless I did exactly what I was told. Those were his exact words. He told me to use that thing to start removing all the bugs and trackers' – she pointed at the bugfinding device that was now in an evidence bag in Mo's hands – 'and I tried to tell him I didn't know what he was talking about, but he told me he knew I'd gone to the police, and if I tried to deny it then he'd . . . he'd make Emma scream again.' She stared at them each in turn. 'I had no choice. Don't you see that? I had no choice. I want my daughter back.'
'Well, you went about it the wrong way,' said Tina, her tone exasperated.
'What do you know? Have you got children?'
'No, but—'
'But nothing. You have no idea what you're talking about.'
Tina opened her mouth to reply but Bolt stepped in. This was getting them nowhere.
'OK, Andrea, so you followed their instructions.
You removed the tracking devices and threw them out of the car. But not the two that were attached to the money.'
'No, they told me to leave them in the car when I got out.'
It was a logical move from the kidnappers' point of view, lulling the team into a false sense of security by letting them think they'd still be able to follow the ransom. It also showed that at least one of those involved had fairly expert knowledge of tracking devices.
'What was the last instruction you received?'
'To get out of the car and start walking up the road. I was told I'd be met by someone. I started walking and the next thing I knew there were these loud bangs, everyone was running, there was that gas . . . I remember shutting my eyes, getting knocked about by all these people running, and then someone punched me in the side of the head and grabbed the bag.' She touched the left side of her face where she'd been struck. The area was red and beginning to swell.
'And did you get a look at your attacker at all, Mrs Devern?' asked Mo.
'No, I didn't see anything. It all happened so fast.'
She took a gulp from the water and hunted round for her cigarettes, but couldn't find them.
'Has anyone got a smoke?'
Tina reached into her jeans, pulled out a battered pack of Silk Cut and a cheap lighter, and lit two cigarettes, one for Andrea and one for her. Andrea gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement.
'So, the person on the phone made you remove all these devices,' said Tina, a hint of scepticism in her voice, 'which you did . . .'
'That's right.'
'And did he at any point tell you when you were going to see your daughter again?'
All three of them looked at Andrea.
'He said I'd be seeing her very soon. As soon as he'd verified that the money was all there.'
'When did he say that?'
'During the car journey. Twice. He said it twice.'
'How did he say he was going to make contact to tell you where to find her?'
'He didn't.'
'It seems like you were very trusting,' said Tina.
'You made it impossible for us to track either the suspects or the money, yet you were offered very little in return.'
