Simon Kernick - Deadline

The reason why it was only a comparatively clean conclusion rather than an absolutely perfect result was that Matt Turner was still very ill and Mike Bolt, who more than anyone deserved credit for the op's overall success, was suspended until further notice. It didn't seem fair. And this was the main reason Tina was hanging around in the dark in a bad part of town, waiting. Because sometimes doing the job and upholding the law didn't necessarily provide the justice it was meant to. Sometimes you had to dispense that justice yourself, as an individual. Like Mike had done yesterday.

There was movement across the road. A group of men emerged from the entrance to the monolithic tower block, three of them in all, moving purposefully, their voices low. They stopped at the Lexus and got inside, pulling out seconds later.

Tina retreated further into the shadows and took out her mobile as they drove past her. It was an unregistered pay-as-you go she'd bought on Tottenham Court Road earlier that day, and as the Lexus came to the end of the road and turned left, she dialled 999, asking for police.

'Hello, can I help you?'

'I've just seen three men get into a car armed with guns.'

'Are you sure about this, madam?'

'Absolutely,' she said breathlessly. 'They walked right past me.'

She gave her location, the make and model of the car, and the direction it was travelling in, waiting patiently while the operator took all the information down.

'And can I have your name, madam?'

'I don't want to get involved, I'm too scared.'

And with that, she ended the call, switched off the phone, and walked back to her car.

When she'd phoned the number Leon Daroyce had given her an hour earlier she'd disguised her voice and said he could find Pat Phelan at a flat in Colindale, where he was holed up with a lover, hoping he'd take the bait. And now it looked like he had done. She had no idea whether Daroyce and his two associates would be armed or not, but it didn't really matter since when the police stopped the car they'd find the five grams of cocaine she'd planted in the glove compartment. It had taken all the burglary skills she'd learned at SOCA to bypass the Lexus's sophisticated alarm system, as well as one hell of a lot of nerve, but it would be worth it. Armed with the coke, the police would be able to execute a search warrant on Daroyce's premises, a place she was absolutely sure would be full of illegal contraband.

It might not be enough to put him away for years, or even months, but at least she'd done something to disrupt his business and pay him back for the ordeal he'd put her through two days earlier, and a search of the flat would probably mean freedom for the girl he'd abused as well, which had to be a good thing. He would probably work out who'd been behind it, and might even want to extract some kind of revenge when he was back on the street, but she doubted he'd risk killing a SOCA agent. Whatever he might like to claim, Daroyce was a bully, and bullies tended to be cowards when it came down to it.

She knew what her former lover, John Gallan, would have thought of her actions. He'd have disapproved, not only because what she'd done was potentially so dangerous, but also because he'd always believed in the absolute sanctity of the law he'd been paid to uphold. But as Tina and countless many others had found to their cost down the years, the law didn't always punish the bad, just like it didn't always protect the good. Sometimes you just had to bend the rules, even if that did mean planting evidence.

Somewhere deep inside, the realization of what she'd done and the huge risk she'd taken worried her. But nowhere near enough to regret it, and there was even something of a spring in her step as she walked down the quiet, litter-strewn street and heard the first of the sirens converging on Leon Daroyce.

It was a cool, drizzly day, very different to the Indian summer of the past ten days or so, and Mike Bolt and Andrea Devern were standing on Hampstead Heath, looking up in the direction of Kenwood House.

Andrea looked good. She was dressed in a three-quarter-length raincoat, her long auburn hair flowing over the collar. Her eyes were bright and alive in a way Bolt hadn't seen since their affair all those years ago.

'I really didn't want to do it,' she was saying to him now. 'It's no consolation, I know, but I was under huge amounts of pressure. Will you forgive me?'

Bolt looked at her. Andrea Devern had put him through hell, there was no doubt about it, but she'd also had one of the best reasons going for doing so. The safety of her daughter. Not his, unfortunately, he knew that now, but he could still sympathize. Today was the first time the two of them had seen each other since the chaotic aftermath of the ransom drop, but what should perhaps have been an awkward meeting felt anything but.

But then, Bolt thought ruefully, Andrea has always had a way of making me feel good.

He smiled. 'Sure, I forgive you. Maybe I'd have done the same in your position.'

'No, you wouldn't. You're not like that. You're a good man, Mike. You've got too much integrity.'

He shrugged. 'Maybe. But we all do desperate things sometimes. I'd like to see Emma at some point, too. I know she's not mine, but it would be nice to see how she's getting on.'

'I'll get her to call you when she's feeling better. She's been sleeping most of the past few days.'

'But she's OK?'

'Yeah, she's doing well. She's a fighter, just like me. She's upset about Pat. She liked him.'

'How do you feel about it?'

'I've shed my tears. He wasn't such a bad bloke, and I'm glad he didn't betray either me or Emma. That's a comfort.'

'Good.'

'And what about your colleague, Turner? The one who was at my place. How's he getting on?'

'He's out of intensive care and they say he should make a full recovery, but he's going to be in hospital for a while yet.'

'I hope he's all right. He seemed a nice guy.'

Neither of them mentioned Jack Doyle. He was still in a bad way in hospital but Bolt had little doubt he'd survive. Jack wasn't the kind to give up. He'd always been too bloody-minded for that, although he had little to look forward to when and if he did finally make it.

'And how about you, Mike?' asked Andrea. 'How are you managing? What's going to happen about your suspension?'

'I don't know yet. I'm still waiting to hear what action they're planning to take against me.'

'They shouldn't take any. You were a bloody hero. If it wasn't for you…'

There was no need for her to finish the sentence. They both knew what she meant.

He wasn't sure that he had been a hero, though. More likely he'd been a fool, and it was foolishness that still might cost him his job. But he didn't regret his actions, had even stopped worrying about the whole thing these past couple of days. What would happen would happen anyway, so it was easier just to think about something else.

They were silent for a moment, each watching the other. Conscious that there was still something there. Finally, Bolt spoke again.

'The reason I wanted to meet you today was because I had a question.'

Andrea looked wary. 'OK…'

'That day we met in the West End all those years ago, when we went back to your hotel. That wasn't, you know…'

'What?'

He suddenly felt embarrassed to bring it up.

'It was genuine coincidence, right? You didn't know I was going to be there?'

'You asked me that before. A long time ago.'

'And now I'm asking it again.'

Andrea smiled a little sadly. 'Have I been that bad to you that you could believe it wasn't?'

'I just wanted to hear it from your own lips again. Now that this is all over.'

'It was genuine coincidence, Mike. I promise.'