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His pager rang out shrilly from the settee where his trousers had been dumped. He rolled away, glancing at his watch as he did so — it was 10 p.m. — and checked the message. He picked up Danny’s phone and called Control Room, talked to the Duty Inspector, lying back as he conversed. Danny sensuously rubbed her breasts along his rib cage. ‘Thanks,’ he said and hung up. ‘Interesting… we need to get back in. There’s been a development. Crimestoppers have had a call from a male who says he has urgent information about the M6 robbery and that he wants to speak to me — now.’

They dressed quickly and were out of the house minutes later, jumping into their respective cars. Before setting off, Henry leapt out of his and trotted round to Danny in her unrepaired MX-5. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said awkwardly, ‘but I should just phone Kate and let her know.’

‘ Sure.’ She gave him her house keys and waited while he went back in and made the call. ‘Did you dial 141 before dialling your number — you know, so my number is untraceable?’ Danny asked when he gave her the keys back.

‘ No. Oh, shit — no, it’ll be all right.’

Chapter Twenty

‘ Don’t get upset.’ Henry attempted to calm Danny. ‘This guy could be our key to cracking this job.’

‘ And he’s also the one who attacked me on the beach in Los Cristianos,’ Danny spluttered angrily. Her wild eyes glared at Henry. ‘He indecently assaulted me. He would have raped me if I hadn’t kicked six shades out of him.’

‘ Danny, please,’ Henry cooed. ‘I think I know how you’re feeling.’

‘ How the hell could you..?’ she started to demand. Her voice trailed off and she wound her neck in with a remorseful, ‘Sorry.’

‘ Forget it.’

‘ It’s just I’m so tired. There’s so much gone on recently.’

‘ Forget it,’ he said again. ‘Let’s just hear what he has to say and if it’s all crap, then we’ll beat him up together, shall we?’

She managed a smile and nodded compliantly.

It was twenty-four hours later, the day after Henry had met and questioned Alexandr Drozdov. Henry and Danny were standing in an interview room in the main police station in Santa de la Cruz, Tenerife, having landed from England only a couple of hours previously. Two Spanish detectives sat behind them, looking bored, observing their heated exchange with indifference. On the other side of a huge, two-way plate-glass mirror sat the lone figure of the man who had phoned Crimestoppers and demanded to speak urgently to DI Henry Christie.

The mystery caller had claimed, ‘I have information for you that will lead you straight to the man who planned and pulled the M6 robbery and who also killed those three people in Blackpool. I know him personally and I know where you can find him. I live in Tenerife and I want you, Mr Christie, to come out here personally and talk to me — now. And I want the reward money, because I know that the information I give will lead you to his arrest and conviction. But you must give me protection.’

Henry had taken a deep breath and said, ‘How can I believe you? I’ve had hundreds of calls claiming the same since the robbery happened. I can’t afford to go off on a wild-goose, chase.’ Henry had to be cagey without losing the man because, somehow, he sensed this was the big break, and it needed to be handled correctly.

‘ Here’s a titbit for you. If you are any sort of detective, you should have found this out by now — and it’s not something you’re likely to reveal to the press just yet. One of the security guards was in on the job. His name was Colin Hodge.’

Henry looked quickly at Danny and winked. The strong suspicion that Hodge was the inside man had not been revealed to anyone outside a very privileged few.

‘ I take it from that pause I’ve hit the nail on the head,’ the man said.

‘ Tapped it, perhaps,’ Henry said, trying to contain his excitement. ‘Can you give me any further details?’

‘ He came out to the island before the robbery and had a planning session with the man who is behind it all. I might have been able to guess the first bit, but not that — so, are you coming out here?’

‘ Yes, I think so.’

‘ I want three grand up front — and I also want you to remember that because I’ve made this call, my life isn’t worth shit now. If he finds out, he’ll do me in, guaranteed.’

Henry was thinking fast. ‘The up-front money is no problem. Ring me back in an hour and I’ll tell you what’s happening, unless you want to give me your number.’

‘ Yeah, sure. Think I was born yesterday, do you?’

‘ OK, that’s fair enough. You’ll need a code-name,’ Henry said. ‘We don’t use real names over the phone — just in case.’

‘ Nero,’ the man suggested quickly.

‘ OK, Nero — give me one hour,’ Henry reiterated. ‘Ring back via Crimestoppers again — it’s safer that way.’

By the time that hour had passed, it was almost midnight. FB had been woken up and apprised of the new development. Groggily he had said, ‘You and DS Furness go if you think it’s necessary.’ Henry had also arranged for three thousand pounds to be paid to him from the informants fund. Booking a flight or accommodation had been impossible at that time of night.

Sixty-one minutes later, Crimestoppers connected Nero through to Henry’s extension. ‘The money has been sorted and I can come and see you. Obviously I can’t book a flight at this time of day, that will have to wait until morning. Call back at ten — we’re in the same time zone, aren’t we?’

‘ OK — but if you haven’t sorted out a flight by then, the deal’s off. I can’t afford to wait around.’

Henry smirked, knowing he was being bullshitted. He had vast experience of dealing with informants, or ‘sources’ to use police jargon. They rarely stopped once they’d started because they are usually driven people — driven by revenge, greed, or both, or they actually like being informants, enjoy playing the game, being a double-agent, living on the edge of what has often been a worthless life. ‘Don’t worry,’ Henry said, ‘everything will be sorted… but there is one thing.’

‘ What?’ asked the source dubiously.

‘ Give me something else now, prove your credentials.’

Henry heard the man clicking his tongue, thinking.

‘ It doesn’t have to be mega,’ Henry encouraged him.

‘ Maybe tomorrow,’ he said and hung up.

Henry and Danny spent the remainder of that night at the Training School in separate rooms, and were up by seven. After a hurried breakfast, they both drove back to Blackpool to their respective homes. Henry had breezed into his house like he was doing the most normal thing in the world, dashed around like a whirlwind, finding his passport, stuffing clothing and shoes into a holdall. He kissed Kate in passing, gave Jenny and Leanne a quick peck on the cheeks and was gone, with no real explanation, no proper conversation, just a hurried, ‘Got to get to Tenerife… might have cracked this job… shouldn’t be gone too long… give you a bell, love… bye!’ Then breezing quickly past a speechless wife.

Pulling away in his car he felt an absolute bastard and when he glimpsed the stony-faced figure of Kate standing in the bay window, he felt physically sick. Yet he pressed on and was back at Headquarters before nine to find Danny had beaten him and was already phoning around for flight tickets. Henry sorted out money and accommodation and made brief contact with the Criminal Justice Support, National Criminal Intelligence Service at Scotland Yard and the Spanish police in Tenerife to tell them all, as a matter of courtesy, his plans.

Danny quickly secured two cancellations on a holiday charter. The tickets would be made available at Manchester Airport and they had to be there at 1p.m. for a 2.30 p.m. flight. She then booked a hire car for collection at the airport in Tenerife.

The source rang again on the dot of ten. ‘This is Nero.’

‘ How are you?’