Cora dipped her lips into the warm liquid. She nodded … a good Chinese tea … heart-warming.
She finally broke the silence. “I guess Jonathan will call if he has news.”
Nancy smiled. “He will and he will follow up with Rob as well.”
She liked the way her artist friends had warmed to DCI Pole and almost immediately felt they could call him by his first name.
Cora continued sipping her tea. Nancy left her to her thoughts and returned a few moments later with toast and homemade jam.
“I’m not hungry, but you are going to tell me that starving myself is not going to help.” Cora returned to her place on the sofa.
“And that would be correct …” Nancy pushed the plate of toast towards her friend.
“I need to replace my lost phone … and …” Cora picked up a piece of bread and started to nibble at it. “… I need to go back to the flat … I know it will be bad.” She added quickly. “But I need to see it for myself … please.”
“I understand … it’s better to see it as it actually is than to imagine a total disaster.” Nancy had started on a piece of toast as well.
“I’d like to do that alone.” Cora managed to swallow the small piece she had been chewing. “I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want people to dictate to me about what I should feel.”
“Cora … please. As much as I understand why you may want to go alone … reconsider.” Nancy had dropped her breakfast back onto the plate. “The people who chased you, who set fire to your flat and who are holding Ollie, are still out there. They will follow you and they will get to you. They are dangerous.”
“What are you suggesting then? Even if you are with me, what are we supposed to do against the bastards?”
“I’m not contemplating going on my own with you, but Jonathan will make someone available for protection, if we go.”
Cora exhaled a short breath. She did not want to wait for security cover to arrive.
“And what are you going to do if you need to run away?” Nancy gave a quick nod towards Cora’s foot still covered in bandages.
“I’ve been worse.” Cora wiggled her toes and winced a little. “I have put together performances that have brought me to the edge of comfort and safety … I understand physical pain.”
“This is not a performance … You’re not in control of your surrounding the way you are when you are putting on a show. I know you often push yourself to the limits, but trust me, the world of criminality is a very different kettle of fish.”
“I need to check what the damage is to my artwork.”
Nancy gave her a kind smile. “I know you do, and I also understand you are anxious, but it still doesn’t mean you have to compromise your own safety.”
“Please … the wait is unbearable.” Cora stood up abruptly.
Nancy extended an appeasing hand. “I’ll speak to Jonathan to organise protection for us.”
* * *
Pole’s tie was hanging around his neck, undone. Rob Clark, his NCA contact had called back already.
“We’ve picked up a large SUV leaving the area next to Ollie Wilson’s flat on CCTV. Its registration plate has no match on ANPR.”
“Stolen vehicle … with fake number plates … that sounds like a good start. How far have you tracked the car?” Pole had squeezed his mobile between his shoulder and ear, absentmindedly tying the knot of his tie.
“Not as far as we had hoped … we lost them in De Beauvoir Estate.”
“I thought the cameras worked there, according to the latest internal report on policing in North and East London.”
“They do usually, but either the route they took was the only one not covered or the cameras were not working.”
“Or … they had been disabled.” Pole sat at his desk and logged on.
“That crossed my mind. One of my guys is checking that out but it wouldn’t surprise me. This is a professional job, not a simple kidnapping for ransom.”
Rob remained silent for a moment.
“I know what that means.” Pole’s lips straightened. “If they get the information from him, he is dead.”
“You mean when they get the information from him. These people will know how to make him talk.”
“Unless he has been trained not to talk.”
“So far nothing indicates this young chap is involved in anything bad … there’s no police record connected with his name.”
“But he’s not British right … digging into his past is not going to be that easy or quick.”
“INTERPOL has zero data on him. I used Veritone Identity … quite a good AI enabled software, nothing there either.”
“Still … whoever wanted to speak to Ollie Wilson got some bad boys involved. That costs money and means knowledge and access to the right network.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you, Jon, but so far we have drawn a blank.”
Pole obtained a few more details from Rob Clark and took a moment to consider his next move. He had spoken to Steve Harris only recently. His involvement with the MI6 officer had borne fruit in the past, but it had also caused complications Pole could have done without.
Pole had come to an arrangement with him a couple of years ago. Harris was not the sort of man who would do Pole a favour and ask for nothing in return. Then again, if young Wilson was involved in some undercover activities, perhaps Harris would know about them or know whom to ask.
Pole picked up his burner phone, his thumb hovering over the speed dial number. He inhaled deeply and pressed the key.
“Inspector Pole … that’s a bloody good surprise.” Harris’s faint East End accent plunged Pole back into a recent past he ’d rather not remember.
“Harris … I’ve got some information that may be of interest.”
“So not about China and Miss Wu then?”
Did Harris really have to always be such a prick?
“More about America … interested?”
“Fire away
