believe him?’
Tina thought about this for a moment, remembering his injuries. ‘Yes, I do. And after what happened to John Cheney, it’s possible the people he worked for are trying to silence him. If it’s OK, I’m going to stay round here to interview the man who attacked Fox. See if I can find anything out that way.’
‘Good idea. Keep me posted. And thanks, Tina. You’re doing a good job.’
They ended the call, and Tina put the phone back in her pocket, a familiar excitement in her gut.
Sixteen
11.28
MIKE BOLT TOOK a deep breath. It was a strange feeling being back working with Tina after all this time. He’d always had feelings for her. One time, four years earlier, when they’d last been working together at SOCA – the soon-to-be-disbanded Serious and Organized Crime Agency – he’d made a pass at her. They’d kissed, but things hadn’t gone any further, and it had ended up souring their friendship. As a result, she’d transferred back to the Met. Since then he’d stuck his neck out for her on more than one occasion, even though at times it had seemed as if Tina was on a mission of self-destruction, and it had almost cost him his job.
Most people, and not just those in the upper echelons of the force, thought Tina Boyd was bad news. And in many ways she was. She wasn’t a team player, and she did things her own way, often with very little respect for the law she was meant to be upholding, and that made her dangerous. Yet it felt good to have her on the team, even if it was only temporary. She’d squeezed a name out of Fox, which was something. Bolt had a vision of her grabbing him by the hair and battering his head on the interview room desk, demanding answers. It brought a smile to his face, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibilities. That was the thing with Tina. She always brought an energy to everything she did. She also brought something to Bolt’s own lonely life, a spark that had been missing a long time – although he preferred not to think about that right now.
He went down to the next floor and found one of his team, DC Nikki Donohoe, a fiery-looking woman in her late thirties with short, fashionably cut red hair and the first sign of a bump where her third child was, due six months down the line. Nikki was their IT expert, a woman with an uncanny ability to dig up any information, however obscure.
‘Hello, boss,’ she said with a tight smile. ‘Any more on the attacks?’
Nikki was usually a livewire, but like everyone else in London that morning what had happened had shaken her. Her two kids went to school barely a mile from where the last two bombs had exploded.
‘We’ve got a lead.’ He told her about Jetmir Brozi. ‘Drop everything and find out anything you can about him, particularly his current location.’
‘You think he might have something to do with the attacks?’ She looked hopeful.
‘Tina Boyd got the name from Fox, so it’s worth prioritizing.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Nikki, turning back to her PC.
‘So the Black Widow actually got something, did she?’
Bolt looked up to see DC Omar Balachi come into the room. Balachi was a tall, lean black man of Somali origin, in his late twenties, with finely sculpted features, who looked like he should be modelling sharp suits on the catwalk rather than wandering round in jeans, trainers and a hoodie, as he was now. He’d been with the team for most of the past year, and he was a good worker, albeit one with an attitude. He’d already made it known to Bolt that morning that he was annoyed that he’d spent so much of his time on the team doing donkey work while Tina had simply breezed in and been asked to interview the one man they’d all been wanting to talk to.
‘That’s right,’ said Bolt, turning to face him. ‘And I told you already, the reason she went there is because Fox insisted on it. I don’t like it either, but that’s the way it is.’
‘But you’ve
Tina thought about this for a moment, remembering his injuries. ‘Yes, I do. And after what happened to John Cheney, it’s possible the people he worked for are trying to silence him. If it’s OK, I’m going to stay round here to interview the man who attacked Fox. See if I can find anything out that way.’
‘Good idea. Keep me posted. And thanks, Tina. You’re doing a good job.’
They ended the call, and Tina put the phone back in her pocket, a familiar excitement in her gut.
Sixteen
11.28
MIKE BOLT TOOK a deep breath. It was a strange feeling being back working with Tina after all this time. He’d always had feelings for her. One time, four years earlier, when they’d last been working together at SOCA – the soon-to-be-disbanded Serious and Organized Crime Agency – he’d made a pass at her. They’d kissed, but things hadn’t gone any further, and it had ended up souring their friendship. As a result, she’d transferred back to the Met. Since then he’d stuck his neck out for her on more than one occasion, even though at times it had seemed as if Tina was on a mission of self-destruction, and it had almost cost him his job.
Most people, and not just those in the upper echelons of the force, thought Tina Boyd was bad news. And in many ways she was. She wasn’t a team player, and she did things her own way, often with very little respect for the law she was meant to be upholding, and that made her dangerous. Yet it felt good to have her on the team, even if it was only temporary. She’d squeezed a name out of Fox, which was something. Bolt had a vision of her grabbing him by the hair and battering his head on the interview room desk, demanding answers. It brought a smile to his face, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibilities. That was the thing with Tina. She always brought an energy to everything she did. She also brought something to Bolt’s own lonely life, a spark that had been missing a long time – although he preferred not to think about that right now.
He went down to the next floor and found one of his team, DC Nikki Donohoe, a fiery-looking woman in her late thirties with short, fashionably cut red hair and the first sign of a bump where her third child was, due six months down the line. Nikki was their IT expert, a woman with an uncanny ability to dig up any information, however obscure.
‘Hello, boss,’ she said with a tight smile. ‘Any more on the attacks?’
Nikki was usually a livewire, but like everyone else in London that morning what had happened had shaken her. Her two kids went to school barely a mile from where the last two bombs had exploded.
‘We’ve got a lead.’ He told her about Jetmir Brozi. ‘Drop everything and find out anything you can about him, particularly his current location.’
‘You think he might have something to do with the attacks?’ She looked hopeful.
‘Tina Boyd got the name from Fox, so it’s worth prioritizing.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Nikki, turning back to her PC.
‘So the Black Widow actually got something, did she?’
Bolt looked up to see DC Omar Balachi come into the room. Balachi was a tall, lean black man of Somali origin, in his late twenties, with finely sculpted features, who looked like he should be modelling sharp suits on the catwalk rather than wandering round in jeans, trainers and a hoodie, as he was now. He’d been with the team for most of the past year, and he was a good worker, albeit one with an attitude. He’d already made it known to Bolt that morning that he was annoyed that he’d spent so much of his time on the team doing donkey work while Tina had simply breezed in and been asked to interview the one man they’d all been wanting to talk to.
‘That’s right,’ said Bolt, turning to face him. ‘And I told you already, the reason she went there is because Fox insisted on it. I don’t like it either, but that’s the way it is.’
‘But you’ve
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