DI Kirsty Webb followed closely behind.
The crowd milled past the dancers who had stopped dancing and were watching me. The lead dancer pointed his finger at me like the barrel of a gun and mimed pulling the trigger. Then they were lost in the huge crowd that surged around them. I tried to give chase but at that moment the riot police arrived and a wall of perspex shields and raised batons blocked my way.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Kirsty?’
‘We got a call!’
‘What are you talking about? Got a call from who?’
Kirsty held her warrant card up and led me past the riot police who were attempting to ‘kettle’ the demonstrators behind us.
‘Division got an anonymous call. Telling us the missing package will be delivered at the Robert Peel statue here at ten o’clock. We got here as fast as we could.’
‘Yeah, well, you just might have served her a death sentence.’
She glared right back at me. ‘You got the same message, I take it? Seeing as you’re here.’
‘Something like that.’
She shook her head. ‘When, Dan? When did you get the message?’
I didn’t answer.
‘You already knew, didn’t you? Last night, all the time you were fucking me, you knew! And you didn’t tell me.’
Kirsty slapped me across the face. Hard.
Felt like old times.
‘They said they’d kill her if the police were involved.’ I had to shout to be heard above the noise. ‘What was I supposed to do?’ I said.
‘Maybe you could have trusted me.’
‘The person who called it in – man or woman?’
‘Man.’
‘Accent?’
‘I don’t know, Dan. The woodentop who took the call just wrote it down and stuck it on my desk. Didn’t think it was important.’
‘“Woodentop” was an expression the kidnappers used.’
‘What, you think it was me?’ she snapped sarcastically.
‘Of course not – just thinking out loud.’
‘Seems to me you’ve left it a little late for thinking. We had a chance here. You should have told me.’
‘I would have done if I could.’
‘Doing the right thing isn’t exactly your strong point, is it, Dan?’
‘You didn’t seem to have any complaints last night.’
Kirsty snorted angrily. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to bring that up. You got me drunk on cheap brandy, is all. Doesn’t change anything.’
‘You don’t have to tell me!’
‘And you have got more serious things to worry about.’
‘Yeah, I do know that.’
‘Do you, though?’
‘You got a point to make, Kirsty, how about you spit it out?’
‘Somebody told us where the exchange was going to take place.’ She looked across at Sam and Suzy as they forced their way towards us through the crowds. Brad Dexter was following behind with more of his security team trailing in their wake.
‘Yeah, so what’s your point?’ I had to shout again. Hundreds of the protesters had produced those vuvuzela horns from last year’s World Cup and were blasting away behind the perspex wall that the police had formed.
‘It wasn’t whoever took the girl who phoned us, was it?’
‘No.’
‘So who else knew?’
‘No one.’
‘Just you, Dan. You and your team of superheroes.’ Kirsty did practically spit the last couple of words out. I took in what she was saying but she spelled it out for me anyway.
‘Someone’s rotten on your team, Dan. Someone set you up.’
Chapter 67
Harlan Shapiro wasn’t much to look at.
But then, what are multibillionaires supposed to look like? He was a small, quiet man. Dustin Hoffman’s shy cousin, perhaps.
He had been angry, naturally, when I explained what had happened at Parliament Square but hadn’t gone ballistic, which surprised me a little. One thing all billionaires have in common – they’re used to getting their own way.
Del Rio was exactly as I remembered him, though: hard as nails and a man of few words. But when he spoke people listened, or they did if they knew what was good for them.
I hadn’t told Harlan what Kirsty had said to me but I outlined it to Del Rio who was with me in my office drinking black coffee. Their flight had been delayed and hadn’t landed until just after ten o’clock. About the same time the blacked-up Morris dancers had disappeared into the crowds. You would have thought their distinctive costumes would have made them easy to spot. But by the time the chaos had been brought under control they had long gone.
I held a hand to my cheek, remembering the slap Kirsty had given me. Maybe she cared after all.
Del Rio put his cup down. ‘Your ex-wife reckons we’ve got a rotten apple in Private?’ he said.
‘It makes sense.’
‘You got any theories?’
‘No, and I can’t see the point in the play. What do they get out of it?’
‘How many people here knew about the drop?’
‘We took a big team out there, covering all the exits.’
‘So it could have been pretty much anybody in your outfit?’
I nodded. ‘Or Stateside,’ I said.
‘How do you figure?’
I opened a desk drawer and flipped a picture of the dark-suited American who’d been with Brendan Ferres and Ronnie Allen at his pub last night.
‘I kept thinking this has nothing to do with the original kidnapping. Nothing to do with America. But now I don’t know.’ I tapped on the photo. ‘Do you know this guy?’
Del Rio tilted his chin slightly and worked his jaw muscles as he looked at the picture. ‘Wiseguy, name of Sally Manzino. East Coast. Importer and exporter.’
‘I take it we’re not talking coffee beans.’
‘He’s on the payroll of the Noccia family. Not the mobile-phone people. Sally Manzino is their East Coast connection. Private has had dealings with the family before. What’s the connection?’
‘This man’ – I pointed to a photo of Brendan Ferres – ‘was seen entering the university where Hannah was studying, a couple of hours before she was abducted. He works for a piece of work called Ronnie Allen.’
‘I’ve heard the name.’
‘He denies any connection with the kidnapping.’
‘You buy it?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s not his usual line and if he knew what Harlan Shapiro was worth, then if he had taken the girl he’d be asking for a lot more than a million pounds’ worth of pretty stones.’
‘It’s not exactly chump change, but I take your point. So what’s his story?’
‘Snake Ferres reckons he was making a delivery.’
‘Drugs?’
‘Yeah. Tertiary-educational institutions in our country are not exactly immune from drug abuse. And in the main the students at Chancellors come from money. They can afford the good stuff.’
‘And Ronnie Allen can provide it?’
‘He certainly can.’
‘I’ll speak to Jack. Check them out.’
‘If Noccia is involved in the kidnapping, is he likely to say so?’
‘Depends how you ask the question,’ Del Rio said.
He had a point. I finished my own coffee and my mobile rang as Sam came into the office. I waved him in, looked at the caller ID and saw that the number had been withheld. I answered it, clicking it to loudspeaker.
‘Dan Carter.’
The same mechanical voice as before boomed out.
‘You were told not to talk to the police, Mister Carter.’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to listen to me…’
‘No, you have to listen to me,’ he said. ‘You were told not to speak to the police and you were told what the consequences would be if you did so.’
‘It wasn’t us,’ I said, keeping my voice level.
There was a pause. ‘You get one more chance, Mister Carter.’
I sighed quietly. ‘Go on…’
‘As is traditional in these kind of negotiations, when instructions are ignored you get penalised. The fee has gone up to five million. Same deal. Flawless stones. Five million pounds’ worth.’
‘Where and when?’
‘Two o’clock this afternoon. Eastbound platform for the Metropolitan Line. Finchley Road Tube station. Have Harlan Shapiro with you. Anyone else and the consequences will be terminal. Her father is to make the drop.’