CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
By nine that night, everybody had a different definition of police protection.
Calder's definition involved an anonymous serviced apartment outside York, two NCA officers downstairs and strict instructions not to leave.
Drew's definition involved checking every cupboard for people.
"Who exactly are you expecting in the dishwasher?" Leah asked.
He opened it anyway.
"Small assassin."
"Efficient."
"Exactly."
Daniel and Ben had gone for the Rotterdam originals. Gareth, Amy, Owen and Sam were hidden elsewhere. Pete remained with Redmile. Michael remained missing.
Hale had vanished from every database Calder could access.
Leah stood by the apartment window and watched rain glaze the car park.
Her shoulder ached from the interview room.
Her head hurt.
Her career was probably over.
Her father had been dead for sixteen years, alive for two days, and kidnapped for one of them.
Drew came up behind her.
"You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"Thinking so hard the room gets tense."
"Rooms don't get tense."
"This one does."
She looked at his reflection in the glass.
He had changed into a clean black T-shirt somebody from Calder's team had bought him. No cut. No club colours. Without them he looked less like North End's vice president and more dangerous somehow, because there was nothing telling strangers what category to put him in.
"You should sleep," she said.
"So should you."
"I was first."
"Strong legal argument."
She turned.
"You broke into police headquarters with a fire extinguisher."
"Technically the door was open."
"You triggered the fire alarm."
"Daniel did."
"You told him to."
"Leadership."
Leah laughed.
It surprised her.
The sound came out wrong at first. Too sharp. Too close to something else.
Drew's expression changed.
"Leah."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to ask if I'm all right."
He considered it.
"I wasn't."
"Good."
"I know you're not."
That was worse.
She looked away.
"He put a gun under my jaw."
Drew said nothing.
"I've had guns pointed at me before. More than once."
"I know."
"This was different."
"I know."
"Because he was senior command. Because I knew him. Because when I saw him at briefings I stood up straighter like everybody else."
Drew moved closer.
"And because he had you."
She looked at him.
He was not talking about Renn.
"You looked like you were going to kill him."
"I was."
No performance.
No apology.
Leah's pulse changed.
"That isn't romantic."
"Didn't say it was."
"It's actually a serious professional concern."
"You are suspended."
She hit his chest.
Not hard.
He caught her wrist.
The room changed.
Neither moved for a second.
Leah looked at his hand around her wrist.
Then at him.
"Don't make this about nearly dying."
"Wasn't planning to."
"Don't make it about gratitude."
"Definitely wasn't planning that."
"And don't be careful with me because of today."
Drew's eyes darkened.
"That one I can manage."
She kissed him first.
Hard enough to push him back a step.
His hand went to the back of her neck and his mouth opened over hers. No hesitation. No fragile reunion. The kiss carried every argument they had postponed since the chapel, every lie exposed, every time one of them had dragged the other away from a bullet.
Leah caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Drew looked down at her.
"Shoulder?"
"Works."
"That wasn't the question."
"You get one sensible question a night. You used it."
He smiled.
Then lifted her onto the edge of the kitchen counter.
The cold surface made her gasp.
"Bastard."
"Counter's not mine."
"Very funny."
His mouth moved to her throat.
Leah closed her eyes.
For the first time in two days, there was no operation running in the back of her mind. No exits. No names. No evidence chain.
Just Drew's hands, warm and rough against her waist, and the pressure of his mouth below her ear.
She pulled him closer between her knees.
"Bedroom."
"Bossy."
"Occupational habit."
He carried her anyway.
Later, the room was dark except for a strip of light beneath the curtains.
Leah lay on her side with one leg tangled over Drew's and her head against his shoulder.
Neither had slept.
"Do you regret it?" he asked.
She lifted her head.
"That is dangerously close to another sensible question."
"Answer it."
"No."
He nodded once.
"You?"
"No."
"Good conversation."
"Efficient."
Leah traced the old scar beneath his ribs.
"What happens to North End?"
Drew stared at the ceiling.
"Depends who's left."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
She waited.
Eventually he said, "Mick built a club. Gareth made it a business. Pete wanted the old violence. Daniel used it as bait. I spent years pretending I could keep the worst parts contained."
"Did it work?"
"Sometimes."
"Not enough?"
He looked at her.
"Probably not."
Leah could have given him the police answer.
Leave. Cooperate. Testify. Start again.
It would have been clean advice from a woman whose own institution had just tried to shoot her in a meeting room.
She did not give it.
"Decide what you want it to be after this," she said.
"You planning to stay around and audit us?"
"Your books are terrible."
"That sounded like yes."
Her phone buzzed on the floor.
Both of them froze.
Drew reached it first.
Daniel.
Leah answered.
"Tell me you have the pages."
"I have the pages."
Relief lasted half a second.
Then Daniel continued.
"And we have a problem."
Drew sat up.
"What?"
"One of the pages has a new annotation. Wasn't there when I photographed it."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning my solicitor opened the dead-man packet six months ago after somebody tried to access it. He added the name from the request log."
Leah got out of bed.
"Who?"
Daniel was quiet.
"Gareth Pike."
Drew's face changed.
Leah watched it happen.
Not shock.
Something worse.
Recognition.
"When?" Drew asked.
"Six months ago. Same week Gareth's messages to Venn changed and he started chasing the Rotterdam material."
Leah pulled on her shirt.
"That doesn't prove he knew what was on the pages."
Daniel said, "No. But there's more. The solicitor kept CCTV. Gareth met Mason Rigg outside the office."
Silence.
Drew stood.
"Send it."
The image arrived.
Grainy street camera.
Gareth Pike beside a dark car.
Mason Rigg facing him.
Hands close.
An envelope between them.
Date stamped six months earlier.
Leah looked at Drew.
"Your president has another secret."
Drew picked up his clothes.
"Former president."
"He doesn't know that yet."
Drew's expression had gone cold.
"He will."