Simon Kernick - Deadline

It was hard, but once the thought of escape was in her head, she got this weird burst of hope. She stood up and tugged frantically at her handcuffs. In the days since they were first put on she'd lost weight, and with a lot of effort she was able to pull the cuff a half inch or so up over her left hand. It wasn't nearly enough to release her, but at least it was a start. Another half inch and she'd be in with a chance. She decided not to eat again. It would make her feel sick and weak, but it had to be worth a try.

Then she pulled at the chain attached to her ankle, trying to yank it free from the wall. It didn't budge the first few times, but then she gave it a huge tug, leaning back and putting all her weight into it as if she was doing a tug of war, and she was sure she heard something give. The metal plate attaching the chain to the wall was brand new and had obviously been put there just for her, but it felt very slightly loose in her hands, and because the wall itself was so old, she felt sure she could get it out somehow. It would still leave her handcuffed, and trailing a chain, but at least she'd be mobile.

She started scraping at the brickwork round the plate with her fingernails, breaking most of them in the process. Some flakes came away, but the plate didn't get any looser. She needed a tool of some kind, so she scoured the floor all over, hunting in every nook and cranny, until she found an old rusty nail in the corner just beneath the bed frame. Slowly, carefully, she began cutting away at the brickwork with the nail, methodically chipping away at it. It was a slow, painful job, but every time more brick dust fell to the floor she knew she was getting that little bit closer.

She just had to keep praying she had enough time.

'So, Pat Phelan might be in the frame after all?' said Mo Khan as he and Bolt drove to Andrea's house.

'Well, he's certainly got a motive. He owes a lot of money to a very dangerous man who's likely to use some pretty extreme violence to get it back. He also called that man two days before the kidnapping to ask him for a few more days to get the money he owed him. That's a pretty big coincidence if he wasn't involved, isn't it?'

Mo nodded. 'And he's not exactly the most upstanding citizen. A layabout and petty criminal who's sleeping with his wife's business partner. The problem is, it doesn't lead us to Emma, and if Phelan is involved, and she knows he's involved, he's not going to want to let her go.'

'I don't know,' said Bolt slowly. 'I would hope that it would mean he's less likely to hurt her because of the personal relationship they have.'

'That's assuming he's got a conscience. Anyone who can kidnap their own stepdaughter and put her through a living hell that's going to scar her for life just to pay off a gambling debt is capable of most things in my book.'

Bolt's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. 'But what I still can't work out is that if he is involved, why did he disappear too? Why not set everything up, make sure he's got an alibi for the time Emma's snatched, and simply stay behind and act innocent, advise Andrea not to go to the police, and wait for his money? Why implicate yourself?'

Mo shrugged. 'Maybe he's stupid.'

Bolt shook his head. 'No, one thing we do know for sure is the people behind this aren't stupid.'

The reason they were going to Andrea's house was to talk to her about these latest developments. Bolt had spoken on the phone to Tina Boyd for more than fifteen minutes and had been impressed by her detective work in uncovering the leads, but also concerned that she'd been abducted from the street and threatened by Leon Daroyce. Bolt was unfamiliar with the name, but a quick check on the PNC had revealed Daroyce as an unpleasant thug with several convictions for violence. He'd also been charged with a number of offences over the years, including extortion and, more ominously, attempted murder, all of which had ended up being dropped as witnesses retracted their statements, refused to testify, or in one case simply disappeared. Clearly he was a dangerous man.

But Tina hadn't sounded unduly distressed. If anything, she'd sounded excited, which wasn't like her. The thing with Tina was that she tended to keep her emotions in check, and usually exhibited a businesslike calm that her colleagues occasionally found disconcerting. He'd offered her the rest of the day off, knowing that however brave a face she put on it she was still going to be shocked by what had happened, but knowing too that she'd refuse the offer, which of course she had. Tina Boyd wasn't the type who liked being treated with kid gloves, something that Bolt had always admired about her, and he'd told her to return to the Glasshouse and help out there.

Bolt was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on anything but Emma's whereabouts and he knew he looked under stress. His fingers were glued to the steering wheel, and twice Mo had asked him whether everything was OK. He'd replied that he was fine, just tired, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence on his team. They regularly did sixty-, even seventy-hour weeks when they were on a job, but he'd felt bad not saying something to Mo about his plight. They were good friends who knew each other well. But Bolt was well aware that the moment he opened his mouth he'd put his colleague in an impossible situation. He'd done that once before, and had sworn then that he wouldn't risk their friendship a second time.

It had just turned twenty to six when they pulled up outside Andrea's house, having called through to the surveillance team to announce their arrival. Not surprisingly, the team leader reported that there'd been no suspicious activity in the street all day. The kidnappers, it seemed, were continuing to keep a low profile.

Bolt pressed the buzzer on the security gate, and they were let through without preamble. The garden looked even prettier in the dappled lateafternoon sunshine as he and Mo walked towards the front door. It opened and Andrea appeared, dressed in a white LA Fitness T-shirt and ill-fitting trackpants. She'd removed her make-up, and looked older. Her eyes were red, and there'd been recent tears.

'Any news?' she asked.

'I'm afraid not,' answered Bolt as she moved aside to let them in, 'but we've got a few questions we need to ask you.'

Matt Turner and Marie Cohen, the liaison officer, were in the hallway and Bolt nodded to them both as Andrea led them through to her living room. She took a seat on a long leather sofa while Bolt and Mo sat down in armchairs opposite her.

Marie leaned round the door and asked if anyone fancied a cup of tea. Bolt declined. Mo and Andrea both asked for coffee.

'What do you want to know?' she asked, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands and blowing out a line of pale blue smoke.

Bolt wasn't looking forward to this. It felt akin to kicking her when she was already down.

'We've heard from very reliable sources that Mr Phelan has a very large gambling debt. Did you know anything about that?'

She looked genuinely shocked. 'Are you sure? How big?'

'We believe it's tens of thousands of pounds.'

'Oh God, no. He's been staying out late quite a bit, but I had no idea he was gambling. What's he been betting on?'

'He's been losing it in a casino, but the point is, he owes a lot of money to some very nasty people.'

'Have you ever heard the name Leon Daroyce, Mrs Devern?' asked Mo, speaking for the first time.

She shook her head. 'Is he the person Pat owes the money to? Do you think he's the one who snatched Emma?'

'It's possible,' Bolt conceded. 'We don't know for certain. We think it might be that Mr Daroyce is currently looking for your husband to get the money he's owed.'

Andrea took another urgent drag on the cigarette. 'But surely he's the one with the motive. Are you not going to arrest him? Do something?'