CHAPTER THREE
Leah waited until the clubhouse bathroom door locked before she allowed herself to breathe properly.
Then she counted to five, turned on the tap and dismantled the bottom of her lipstick.
The transmitter was smaller than her thumbnail.
Three presses meant emergency contact.
She pressed twice.
Compromised operation.
Then once more after a pause.
Hostage.
The device vibrated against her fingers.
Signal received.
No reply.
There was never a reply through the emergency transmitter. Her handler would decide what happened next.
DI Marcus Venn had spent months telling her that North End were dangerous but predictable.
Tonight had destroyed the second half of that sentence.
She reassembled the lipstick and stared at herself in the mirror.
There was dust in her hair. A faint bruise already darkened one cheek. Her pupils were still too wide.
Four months undercover.
Four months of drinking with men she was supposed to arrest, memorising number plates, photographing ledgers, mapping the club's routes and pretending not to notice Drew Sayer noticing everything.
The operation had started with cocaine.
It had become something else after Ben Harker disappeared.
Ben had been the previous undercover officer inside Redmile MC. Thirty-three years old. Married. One son. Last contact eleven weeks ago.
The official position was that his cover had failed.
Leah did not believe it.
Neither had his wife.
More importantly, Ben's final intelligence report mentioned North End twice and Drew Sayer once.
Sayer believes Redmile supply line is protected. Internal police leak possible.
That sentence had been buried in an attachment and nearly ignored.
There was one anomaly in Ben's audit trail Leah had never managed to explain. An obsolete user code carrying her father's initials had touched the archived report after Ben vanished. IT blamed migrated data. Venn called it meaningless.
Leah had accepted both answers because the alternative was absurd.
Leah had not ignored it.
A knock hit the bathroom door.
"You planning to live in there?"
Drew.
"Considering it."
"Out."
"Charming."
She slipped the lipstick into her pocket and opened the door.
He had cleaned the blood from his face. The cut above his eyebrow was taped closed. Fresh black shirt. Same stare.
"Gareth wants everyone downstairs."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone still breathing."
The main room of the clubhouse was full.
North End had fourteen patched members. Eleven were present. The others were being called in. Women and hangers-on had been cleared out. Phones sat in a plastic tub on the bar.
Leah's actual phone was still in her pocket.
Her cover phone went into the tub.
Drew noticed.
Of course he did.
"Happy?" she asked.
"Never."
Gareth stood at the head of the long table.
Amy's photograph had been printed and placed in front of him.
That made it worse somehow.
Digital threats could disappear when a screen went dark. Paper stayed.
"Nobody leaves," Gareth said. "Nobody calls anyone. We find where she is before midnight tomorrow."
Owen slammed both palms on the table. "We hit Redmile now."
"Where?" Drew asked.
"Everywhere."
"Excellent plan. Very specific."
Owen pointed at him. "Don't start."
"You want to ride into three pubs, two lockups and a farm with no idea where Amy is. That's not a rescue. That's a funeral procession."
"She's my niece."
"Which is why you should use your head."
Gareth's fist hit the table.
Silence.
"Enough."
He looked at Leah.
Every eye followed.
"Why you?"
"I don't know."
"They asked for the driver."
"I can read."
Owen stood. "Maybe they know she's police."
Leah felt the room change.
Drew did not move.
Gareth's stare hardened. "Why would you say that?"
Owen shrugged. "Look at her. Shooting. Fighting. Turns up four months ago with a perfect little prison record and no family anyone can find."
Leah leaned back in her chair.
"You did find family."
"A mother in Carlisle who won't answer the door."
Her cover mother was a retired police civilian who had agreed to one photograph and no contact.
"She doesn't like me."
"Convenient."
"Families usually are."
Owen stepped around the table.
Drew moved between them before Leah had to.
"Sit down."
Owen's mouth flattened.
"No."
For the first time Leah understood why Drew was vice president despite not being related to Gareth Pike.
It was not violence.
It was the certainty of it.
He did not raise his voice. He did not square up. He simply occupied the space and made Owen decide whether tonight was the night he wanted to lose.
Owen sat.
Gareth rubbed both hands over his face.
"Who knew the route?"
Drew answered. "You. Me. Owen. Leah. Callum."
"Callum's half dead."
"Doesn't mean he wasn't talking before he got shot."
"And the pickup time?"
Drew looked at Owen.
"You changed it."
Owen's head snapped round. "Gareth told me to."
Gareth stared at him.
"No, I didn't."
Nobody spoke.
Leah watched Owen's face.
The confusion looked real.
That was worse.
"Show me the message," Gareth said.
Owen pulled out his phone.
A message sat in the thread from Gareth's number.
MOVE COLLECTION TO 18:00. DRIVER ALREADY KNOWS UNIT. DO NOT CALL.
Gareth took the phone.
"I didn't send this."
Drew leaned over his shoulder.
Leah already knew what he was thinking.
Spoofed number. Cloned SIM. Compromised phone.
Or Gareth lying.
Nobody at the table could prove which.
The clubhouse landline rang.
Everyone looked toward it.
Nobody used the landline.
Drew crossed the room and lifted the receiver.
"Yeah."
A voice spoke.
Leah could not hear the words.
She watched Drew's face instead.
Nothing changed until the final sentence.
Then his eyes went to her.
"Put her on."
He held the receiver out.
"For you."
Leah stood.
"Who is it?"
"Didn't say."
She took the phone.
"Hello?"
A man's voice. Distorted electronically.
"Detective Quinn."
Her blood went cold.
Nobody in the room reacted.
They could not hear.
"Wrong number," Leah said.
A soft laugh.
"Midnight tomorrow. Six kilos. You. If Sayer comes armed, Amy Pike loses a finger every ten minutes."
Leah looked at Drew.
He was watching her too closely.
"Who are you?"
"Ask Marcus Venn what happened to Ben Harker."
The line went dead.
Leah kept the receiver to her ear for one second longer than necessary.
Then she hung up.
"Well?" Gareth asked.
She had choices.
Bad ones.
Tell them now and possibly die before she found Amy.
Keep lying and risk the kidnappers exposing her when it suited them.
Drew stepped closer.
"What did he call you?"
Leah looked at him.
"What?"
"You flinched at the start. What did he call you?"
The room had gone very quiet.
Leah opened her mouth.
A phone buzzed in the plastic tub on the bar.
Then another.
Then six at once.
Drew turned.
Every confiscated phone had received the same photograph.
A man was kneeling inside a shipping container beside Amy Pike.
His face was swollen and bloody.
Leah knew him immediately.
Ben Harker.
The missing undercover officer.
Alive.
The caption underneath contained four words.
SHE KNOWS WHO HE IS.