CHAPTER NINETEEN
Leah Quinn had spent half her career putting people in interview rooms.
She had never appreciated how ugly they were from the wrong side of the table.
The National Crime Agency office outside Leeds had no windows and coffee that tasted like somebody had filtered rainwater through a burnt sock.
It was six forty-three in the morning.
She had been awake for twenty-eight hours.
Her father was alive.
Drew's brother was alive.
Robert Hale was alive too, technically, because the bullet Venn put through the top of his chest had missed his heart by less than an inch.
Marcus Venn was in custody three rooms away.
And Assistant Chief Constable David Renn was still going to work.
That last fact bothered her most.
The door opened.
A woman in a navy suit entered carrying a thin folder and a fresh coffee.
"Detective Sergeant Quinn."
"Depends who's asking."
The woman sat opposite.
"Ruth Calder. National Crime Agency. Senior investigating officer."
"You brought the right coffee for that title?"
Calder pushed the second cup across the table.
"Machine downstairs. Slightly less offensive."
Leah tried it.
It was.
She decided not to trust her.
Calder opened the folder.
"Immediate facts. Hale is in surgery under armed guard. Venn is under arrest for corruption and conspiracy to murder. Michael Quinn surrendered and admits Mick Pike's ledger records corrupt payments to him."
Leah stared.
"At his own request?"
"He became difficult when one of my officers tried to call it historical intelligence."
That sounded like Michael.
She hated that she knew what sounded like him after less than a day.
"Daniel Sayer?"
"Also in custody. False identity offences. Firearms. Several questions about Rotterdam. He is being unusually cheerful about all of it."
That sounded like Daniel too.
"Drew?"
Calder looked at the folder.
"Refused a solicitor until his brother got one. Then refused to answer anything except his name until someone told him whether you were safe."
Leah hated the warmth that moved through her.
She covered it with coffee.
"And Gareth?"
"Hospital. Owen Pike and Sam Ridley are with him. Amy Pike has threatened three officers, one nurse and a vending machine."
"Normal."
Calder almost smiled.
Then the folder closed.
"Now the problem."
Leah put the cup down.
"Renn."
"Renn."
"His name is on Daniel's Rotterdam photographs and Mick's list."
"His name is on a handwritten list created by a dead criminal and three photographs supplied by a man who has lived under false identities for nine years."
"And the ledger?"
"Payments coded. Initials. Dates. Enough to investigate. Not enough to arrest an Assistant Chief Constable at seven in the morning without giving his lawyers a field day."
Leah leaned back.
"So he knows."
Calder said nothing.
"He knows you're here. He knows Hale is alive. He knows Venn is talking to nobody. He knows I brought you the ledger."
"We have limited the circle."
"That's what every compromised operation says shortly before somebody disappears."
Calder's expression hardened.
"You are not currently part of the operation, Detective Sergeant."
"Because I'm suspended?"
"Because you spent four months undercover with an outlaw motorcycle club, discharged firearms outside authorised operations, withheld contact with your handler and sent evidential material to journalists."
"In fairness, my handler turned out to be a corrupt kidnapper."
"Your ability to make outrageous conduct sound reasonable is going to become irritating."
"Drew says something similar."
Calder looked at her for a second too long.
Leah sighed.
"Ask."
"Are you in a sexual relationship with Drew Sayer?"
There it was.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
Calder wrote one word.
"That presents obvious problems."
"I'm collecting those."
"It also means anything you tell us about North End will be attacked as contaminated by personal involvement."
"Anything I tell you about North End was already contaminated by four months undercover. The sex just gives somebody a more interesting paragraph in the disclosure schedule."
Calder shut the notebook.
"You're suspended from operational duty with immediate effect. Your warrant card and police devices will be retained. You are not to contact witnesses in this investigation."
"Does that include my father?"
"Yes."
"Drew?"
"Yes."
"Daniel?"
"Yes."
"Venn?"
"Especially Venn."
Leah stood.
"Fine."
Calder looked surprised.
"Fine?"
"I'm too tired to argue with a woman holding my phone."
"Good."
"I'll argue later."
"I assumed."
Calder opened the door.
A man in a grey suit waited outside.
Leah knew him.
Everybody in regional organised crime knew him.
Assistant Chief Constable David Renn had silver hair, a careful voice and the kind of posture senior officers acquired after twenty years of never carrying their own bag.
He smiled when he saw her.
"Leah."
Calder's entire body changed.
"Sir. This is an NCA-controlled facility."
"And Detective Sergeant Quinn remains an officer in my force. I have a duty of care."
Leah looked at him.
"That's generous."
Renn's eyes settled on her face.
"You've had a difficult night."
"You know the details already?"
"Enough."
Calder stepped between them by half a pace.
"She has finished for now."
Renn nodded.
"Of course. Leah, professional standards will need to speak to you. There are serious questions regarding your conduct."
"I'll put it in the diary."
His smile remained.
"You always were direct."
Leah had met him seven times before.
Briefings. Promotion board. One commendation ceremony.
He had always called her Quinn.
Never Leah.
She looked at his right hand.
No ring.
Clean nails.
A pale line around the wrist where a watch normally sat.
He had removed it.
Why?
Calder said, "Sir, if you need anything further, through me."
Renn looked at her.
"Naturally."
He walked away.
Leah watched him reach the security doors.
Then she saw the man waiting on the other side.
Regional professional standards.
Two uniformed officers.
And a clear evidence bag in one hand.
Inside it was a pistol.
Leah knew the weapon.
Drew's.
Calder swore under her breath.
"What?"
An alarm sounded somewhere beyond the corridor.
Not a fire alarm.
A security alert.
Calder's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her face went flat.
"When?"
Another pause.
"Lock the building."
She ended the call.
Leah already knew.
"Who?"
Calder looked at her.
"Hale."
"What about him?"
"He's gone."
Leah stared.
"From surgery?"
"Transfer team arrived eleven minutes ago. Correct paperwork. Correct vehicle. Two correct officers."
"Correct according to who?"
Calder looked toward the security door Renn had just passed through.
"Regional command."
Leah's exhaustion disappeared.
"Renn."
Calder grabbed her phone again.
Leah caught her arm.
"Michael."
Calder stopped.
They both turned toward the custody corridor.
A man shouted.
Then came the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.
Leah ran.
Suspension lasted less than thirty seconds.
It might have been a personal record.
The first custody door stood open.
An NCA officer lay on the floor holding his shoulder.
The second door was empty.
Michael Quinn was gone.
On the table, beneath a paper cup, someone had left a note.
One line.
LEAVE THE CLUB ALONE AND BOTH OLD MEN LIVE.
Leah read it twice.
Calder appeared behind her.
"Both?"
Leah looked toward the empty corridor.
Hale.
Michael.
One corrupt officer who could bury Renn.
One corrupt officer who could prove the burial.
Neither man had been rescued.
They had been taken hostage.