The Balance of Guilt (24 page)

‘Fucking shite,’ Adam gasped, pointing a shaking finger at the TV. ‘What the bloody hell is he doing in here, just a few hours after Ahmed came in? And just after we finished searching the arcade and reopened it? He must be after Ahmed’s phone, he must be. What the fuck is going on?’

He rewound the DVD and played the sequence one more time. Just to be entirely, utterly, a hundred per cent and more sure.

And however extraordinary, what they were watching was incontrovertible.

The man on the screen, buying the phone, was Oscar.

T
WENTY PAST TEN
.

‘How long to Heavitree Road?’ Adam snapped.

‘Ten minutes. A bit less if we run.’

‘Then run.’

Adam ejected the disc and stuffed it into a pocket. ‘Evidence,’ he said.

They jogged through the shop. A tall, well-built man in a dark suit tried to stop them.

‘I’m the manager here and I want to know …’

‘Later,’ Adam barked. ‘This is an emergency. Out of the way or you’re under arrest.’

The man backed off, muttering some abuse about paying his taxes and the growth of a police state.

Adam ran along the arcade, Dan following. The tiredness had fled. The city centre was still quiet, only a few early shoppers and business people disturbing the morning’s reverie.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘First, stop Ahmed being freed. We need to give ourselves some time.’

‘For what?’

‘To go through the phone. To check it is the one Tanton called. And to link it to Ahmed. Test the flakes of skin on it, fingerprints, that kind of thing. It’ll be full of them. Then we’ve got him.’

‘But …’

‘But what?’

They emerged into the sunlight of the day, ran on and turned left, past the Minster. A crocodile of schoolchildren was being escorted through the grounds, each one clutching paper and pens. They watched as Adam and Dan ran past.

‘But,’ Dan continued, ‘we don’t have the phone. The spooks have got it.’

‘Then they’ll have to hand it over. I’ve had enough of them and their damned plotting. I want to know what the hell’s going on.’

‘Yeah, right. Look, Adam, something’s badly wrong. If Oscar came in the shop to get that phone he must have known it was Ahmed’s. He can only have wanted it to stop us from getting it.’

‘OK.’

‘So he’s protecting Ahmed.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So he’s hardly going to hand over the phone on demand, is he?’

They turned into Southernhay. The greens were deserted. The only movement was a slight rustling of the trees in the gentle breeze, the furtive run of a grey squirrel, and the slow stroll of a parking attendant, awaiting the day’s victims. But at this hour, he was the definition of underemployed.

Twenty-five past ten. They should just make it to the police station for half past.

‘What do you think is going on?’ Adam panted.

‘I don’t know. But they’re spooks. You said it yourself. Nothing’s straightforward with them. Perhaps Ahmed’s one of them. All I know is they must be protecting him. They must have realised how he hid that phone and went into the shop to stop us getting it.’

‘Let’s go tell them that, then. I’ve had a guts full of their bloody deviousness.’

Adam sprinted across a road, ignored the blare of horns from a couple of cars. They were almost at the police station.

‘Just stop a min,’ Dan gasped. ‘I can’t run and think. I’ve got enough blood for either my brain or my muscles, but not both.’

Adam glanced at his watch. ‘We don’t have time. Ahmed’s going to be free in three minutes.’

He lurched towards the police station. Dan stretched out, grabbed Adam’s shoulder and span him round.

‘Get off me!’ the detective yelled.

‘No! You start bloody listening!’

Adam tried to slap away Dan’s hand, but he dodged the blow, instead grabbed the collar of his friend’s jacket and pushed him into a bus shelter. Together they thudded into the hard plastic of its walls.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Adam yelled. ‘I’ll arrest you too if you like.’

They wrestled together, each trying to get a grip on the other, pushing and shoving. A stagger, a feint, a battle to hold their balance. The walls bumped and bowed with the struggle. Discarded wrappings from take-away food flew around their feet. Dan caught his knee on the hard metal angle of a seat, making him gasp. An old woman who was sitting in the shelter opposite looked on, open-mouthed.

‘Adam!’ Dan shouted. ‘I’d love to go in there and confront the bastards. After what they’ve done with the phone, and …’ He swallowed hard, ‘that – other thing … but it won’t do any good! We’ve got to be smarter than that.’

Adam was breathing hard, his face dark, sweaty and tight with a scowl. ‘Take your hands off me,’ he hissed, his voice low and threatening, ‘Or you’re under arrest, you’re off the case and we never work together again.’

‘Adam! I’m trying to make you see sense. No one wants revenge more than I do, but we won’t get it this way.’

‘Hands off. Now.’

‘You’re an idiot! A fucking fool. Go on then, march in there and screw it all up!’

The two men glared at each other in the cramped, smelly space. Then, a woman’s voice interrupted, sharp and reproachful.

‘You should be ashamed of yourselves.’

They both looked round. It was the old lady who had been sitting in the bus shelter opposite. She was pointing an umbrella at them.

‘What kind of an example do you call this? Don’t we have enough trouble with young people today, without you behaving so badly?’

The umbrella shifted to under Dan’s nose. ‘You. You’re that chap off the television, aren’t you?’

Before he could reply, the silver tip had shifted to between Adam’s eyes. ‘And you. I’ve seen you on the TV too, haven’t I? You’re a detective. You’re investigating that dreadful Minster bombing. I’m disappointed in you both. You’re letting yourselves and the rest of us down. You’ve both got important jobs to do and you should be getting on with them, not larking around.’

Dan felt the grip on his collar loosening. He too released his hold on Adam.

‘That’s better,’ came the chiding voice again. ‘Now, apologise to each other.’

Adam began mumbling some words. Dan reciprocated them. The umbrella fell from eye level.

‘That’s better. Now, off you go, and don’t do it again.’

They each nodded, straightened their jackets and walked off, escorted by the woman’s glare. In just a few cutting words, she had ushered them back through the years into childhood.

They took a series of paces in an embarrassed silence, then Dan said, ‘Bet she used to be a teacher.’

Adam snorted. ‘I reckon you’re right. Look, I’m sorry about that. It’s just the case, getting to me.’

‘I’m sorry too. I guess I was feeling ragged, what with Rutherford and not sleeping last night.’

‘OK, forget it.’

They shook hands. ‘Right, back to the real business.’ Adam checked his watch. It was a minute away from half past. ‘Ahmed’s about to be released. How do we stop it?’

‘We need to buy some time. Is Claire in the station?’

‘Yep.’

‘Call her. Tell her to find a delay. Just fifteen minutes or so. That’ll be enough.’

Adam took out his mobile. ‘How?’

Dan found his brain was racing. A flush of anger was a wonderful stimulant. ‘Throw tea over the paperwork so it has to be re-done, something like that. We can’t go in there without a plan. We’ve got to be much more cunning. That’s the game we’re playing now.’

Adam made the call, rushing out the words. Dan doubled over and tried to gather his breath. Stars spun in the globes of his eyes. Distorted images assailed his flying thoughts, a hall of mirrors of the mind. Rutherford, unconscious on that metal slab of a table. Fighting Adam in the street. Tonight and seeing Claire.

Dan screwed his eyes shut, as tight as he possibly could and explored the darkness. And then, sweet and simple, came the idea.

Once more, Dan had to force Adam to wait. They were both dishevelled, out of breath and sweating, their faces flushed after the little altercation. They needed to look calm for the plan to work. But it wasn’t easy. The detective was still as angry as Dan could remember having seen him.

‘I just want to go in there and confront the bastards,’ he kept saying. ‘What the hell are they up to?’

‘I know and I understand. I feel the same. But that won’t work. We’ve got to be cool and clever.’

He led Adam to a bench in the benevolent shade of a tree, made him sit down and explained the idea. Some of the colour drained from the detective’s face.

‘You sure about this?’ Adam asked. ‘If it doesn’t work, I’m going to have more than a little explaining to do.’

‘Have you got any better ideas?’

‘No.’

‘Then that settles it. Was Claire OK about delaying Ahmed’s release?’

‘She said it would be a pleasure. I told her about the throwing tea on the paperwork idea and she liked it. In fact, she asked if it came from you.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘I said yes.’

‘And what did she say to that?’

‘She said, “I thought so”.’

Dan and Adam held a look. ‘What was her – err – tone?’ Dan asked finally.

‘More than a little fond.’

They sat in a canyon of silence. Then Adam said, ‘It’s hardly the time and place, and hell, I don’t want to set myself up as your dad, but – she’s a great woman, you’re a good bloke, and I always thought you made a fine couple. Maybe you should think about sorting it out.’

Dan nodded slowly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

A bus rumbled past, its side covered with a colourful advertisement for a local stately home and what a wonderful backdrop it provided for the perfect wedding.

‘Right,’ Adam said, standing up. ‘Let’s get to it then.’

They walked into the police station. A smartly suited man was sitting in the Waiting Room, tapping a hand impatiently on his black leather briefcase.

‘You’re a solicitor, sir?’ Adam asked politely.

‘That is correct. And I am being kept waiting.’

Adam pulled a face which looked as full of genuine sympathy and concern as an undertaker at a hospice.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll see what I can do to help. Who do you represent?’

‘Mr Ahmed Nazri.’

‘I’ll make some inquiries and get you a cup of tea.’

‘Thank you.’

They walked along a corridor towards the Bomb Room. Adam stopped a young detective and told him to take some tea to the Waiting Room.

‘It’s for a solicitor,’ he said. ‘So use the special milk.’

‘Special milk?’ Dan queried.

‘We always keep some that’s well out of date. For our most valued guests.’

A couple of police officers walked past. Adam lowered his voice and said, ‘Right, I’m off to the Bomb Room. Stand by for my call. It might take a few minutes for the positions to be right.’

‘OK. Where should I go?’

The detective pointed back up the corridor. ‘The kitchen’s up there. When you’ve done what we discussed, wait for it all to go quiet, then come and find me. And if you have a cup of tea, make sure you get the right milk.’

Dan sat himself on a small stool and tried to read a copy of a lifestyle magazine, but wasn’t surprised to find he couldn’t concentrate on the words.

A notice on the fridge warned people not to steal others’ food. Dan was tempted to add – “It’s the law”. He kept his eye on the small red square of metal and thin glass on the wall.

A couple of people came and went. One asked if he was OK. ‘Fine thanks. I’ve just been asked by Chief Inspector Breen to wait here.’

The shield of a senior officer’s name did its familiar work. Dan was left in peace.

His mobile rang. Dan got up, ready to do the deed. He realised he was shaking. He checked the phone’s display. It was a withheld number.

‘Hello?’

‘Stories! I want stories! Where are you, what are you up to, and what have you got for me? I want a story, I want it exclusive, I want it good and I want it now.’

Lizzie never bothered with introductions. It would be as pointless as a bomb politely inquiring if anyone minded whether it detonated. ‘I’m just working on one,’ Dan lied. ‘It should be OK for tonight.’

‘What about the lunchtime news?’

‘It’s at a delicate stage. I don’t think it’ll make lunch.’

‘Is it about the bombing?’

‘Yep.’

‘Is it good?’

‘Yep.’

‘Exclusive?’

‘Yep.’

‘Then that may just be almost barely approaching adequate.’

She hung up before Dan could get another word in.

The square of red metal on the wall was calling. Dan stood up and ran a finger around it. He hoped the glass wouldn’t cut his hand. He hated the sight of blood, particularly his own.

Dan grabbed a kitchen cloth and wrapped it round his fingers. He found himself thinking of Rutherford and wondered whether he had time for a quick call to Cara. No, she would ring if anything happened. All was well. Silence was golden, or at least hopeful. He had to be waiting for Adam.

Tonight, Dan would see his dog. And Rutherford would be better, well enough to open an eye and recognise his master. Claire would be there too. It would do the dog good to see them both. It might even do his master good to see Claire.

And he wondered; what would it mean for Claire to see Dan?

The phone rang again. And this time it was the call he was waiting for.

Dan gulped hard and drew back his hand.

The spooks were standing in the corner of the Bomb Room, whispering to each other. The briefcase was at their feet. No good.

Adam walked over to the whiteboards, ran a finger over his chin and pretended to study them. Claire joined him.

‘How long have we got?’ Adam asked quietly.

‘That tea made a terrible mess of the paperwork. No use at all for a legal document. I’m having it all redone, but it’ll probably take at least another twenty minutes.’

‘Good. In a moment I want you to distract Sierra. I need her somewhere away from that corner.’

Claire raised an eyebrow. ‘OK. How?’

‘Ask for a word in private. Take her outside. Tell her you’re worried I’m not doing my job properly. Or ask for some advice about getting into FX5. Anything. But, Claire …’

‘Yes?’

‘Between us, I heard there might be some kind of fire drill this morning. If the alarm does go off I want you to make for the exit, like a good cop, but then disappear and double back here. OK?’

Claire nodded slowly. ‘Yes, sir.’

She walked back to her desk and busied herself with some papers. Adam felt the phone in his pocket. He reached out and ran a finger down the list of names and numbers on the board. At the fringe of his vision, he could see Claire walking up to Sierra. They chatted briefly, then disappeared out of the door.