He lifted it up for them to see. ‘NCA, DI Mike Bolt,’ he said, using his police rank. ‘Any sign of the victim?’ He could already see that the boot was empty.
‘No, she’s not in there,’ said one of the uniforms who was pointing an MP5 at the nearest suspect’s back. ‘And these two are both unarmed.’
‘Where the hell is she?’ demanded Bolt, grabbing the nearest suspect by the collar of his shirt and dragging him round.
The suspect – short, wiry, mid-forties, with a scar curling up from his lip – stared back at him blankly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. And get your hand off my collar or my brief’ll have you for assault.’
Bolt felt rage building in him. He wanted to draw the Glock and shove the barrel against this arrogant bastard’s forehead, knowing that that way he’d get an answer in seconds, but he also knew that this one simple, three-second act of madness would cost him his job, his pension, and possibly even his freedom. He was powerless, and the cocky expression on the other man’s face told him he knew it too.
‘I know you abducted Tina Boyd,’ snarled Bolt, still holding onto his collar and pulling him closer. ‘And I know you did it in this car. And do you know how I know? Because I was on the phone with her at the time and she gave me your registration number. So what’s the betting we’ll find her DNA in your car?’
The suspect turned to the other cops. ‘This man’s assaulting me. Are you going to stop him? I don’t know why he’s accusing me of all this.’
‘Sir, I think you’d better let him go,’ said one of the cops.
Mo appeared at his shoulder. ‘Come on, boss, leave it alone.’
‘Yeah, do what your mate says, eh, boss? Leave it alone.’
The suspect smirked as Bolt’s grip on his shirt tightened. He thought of Tina, maybe dead already. Then he thought of Leanne. Their life together. Their retirement plans.
He let go, and shoved the suspect back against the car.
‘If we find Tina Boyd’s body, then I swear to God you’ll go down for murder. Twenty-five years minimum.’ He looked over at the second suspect, a younger guy in his thirties who was standing facing the car with his head down. ‘And that goes for you too. Twenty-five years.’
The second suspect didn’t react.
Mo tugged at Bolt’s arm. ‘Come on boss, we’ve got to keep looking for her.’
Bolt turned to the armed cops. ‘All right, take these two to the nearest station and keep them there. We’ll take this up later.’
With that he turned and walked back to the car, knowing that for Tina time was running out fast.
If it hadn’t run out already.
47
‘I once had a client who despised her husband so much that she didn’t just want him dead, she wanted him to suffer very, very badly beforehand. I didn’t ask why. That wasn’t my concern. My concern was, as it always is, to do my job and get paid, and this particular job was comparatively lucrative. It took some planning and some help from a colleague who’s no longer with us, but eventually I managed to get our target, shaken but unhurt, to a nice quiet place, just like this one. My client wanted to have her husband’s death live-streamed to her at home, so we set up a link. I changed into some splash-proof clothing, and got to work. I used a cordless drill on him. It was a long, unpleasant job because the client was very specific about what she wanted done, and it took him well over an hour to die. I got no pleasure from it. None at all. Contrary to what you might think, I’m not a sadist. But I was paid to do a job and I did it efficiently and well. I’ve been paid to do a job here too, Tina, and it’s entirely up to you how painful we make it.’
The hood was ripped off Tina’s head, and she stared up at the woman she knew as The Wraith.
She cut a terrifying figure. She was wearing a ‘Scream’ mask and a white plastic painter’s smock that ran all the way from her neck to her knees, and in a gloved hand she was holding a cordless power drill, with a thin bit already attached.
‘I’m going to ask you some questions,’ she said, ‘and if you give me the right answers you’ll be left here alone and alive, and once I’m safely on my way out of the country, an anonymous call will be made to the police and you’ll be freed.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Tina. ‘You said that last time. Then you shot me.’
The Wraith smiled. ‘And somehow you survived. I’ve read up on you, Tina. You’re a survivor. I admire that. I’d rather let you live if I can. We can never have enough strong women in the world.’
Tina watched as she placed the drill on a nearby worktop, then looked round the room. They were in what looked like a cavernous mechanic’s workshop with large ramps on either side of them, and tools littering the floor, but no cars. The chair she was tied to was made of wrought iron and had been chained to each of the ramps, which was why it was impossible for her to move it.
She took a deep breath. Behind the door opposite her she could hear the muffled voices of the men who were guarding her. There was no escape. She knew that.
‘So what do you want?’ she said at last.
The Wraith turned back to face her. ‘What I want is not to have to use the
