Zero Option by Chris Ryan Page B

domineering manner. The way he'd started in - 'I'll speak to Geordie Sharp' - immediately put a ,stamp on him. There was no question of'can I…?' or 'please', just arrogance and bluster.

'Christ!' I muttered. 'Just wait till the bastard comes through again. I'll sort him.'

'Take it easy, Geordie,' said Fraser, who'd come flying back into the incident room from the digs he'd taken in town. 'Whatever your feelings, it's no good getting stroppy with these people. They're always hoping to make you lose your rag, and if you do you play into their hands.'

I settled in to wait. The girl had said I'd be back in half an hour. Kevin, whoever he was, should call again around seven. I rang Tony and told him I'd been delayed. 'Why not go on out to the cottage and make yourself at home?' I suggested. 'You know where the key is - on the hook.'
     
    'OK,' he agreed. 'I've been to the supermarket and got the stuff to cook something real good. I'll see you later.'

As I hung around, the SB girl, Karen, began to get on my tits again. I had to admit that she'd handled the call as well as anyone could have - she'd tried to keep the guy on the line, and given nothing away - yet there was something about her that annoyed me, an air of complacency that came over more in the way she looked and acted than in anything she said. She was wearing a track suit of dark-blue velvety material, and she seemed unable to keep still. She .was forever looking at her nails, filing one of them for a second or two, bringing a mirror out of her handbag, tweaking at her eyebrows, patting her fair hair into place, all as if she was trying to attract attention. The trouble with her, I decided, is that she's too damned pleased with her looks. I also caught her staring at me a couple of times in a way that was strictly unoperational. I realised that she must have been bored to tears, sitting around day after day on her fanny with nothing happening, living in some dreary bed-and- breakfast dump away from her home, wherever that was.

I knew I should have made an effort to chat her up and be friendly, but I just had too much on my mind.

Seven o'clock
came and went. Seven-thirty, eight, eight-thirty.

Fraser could see I was getting more and more steamed up. 'Relax, Geordie,' he said. This is standard practice. They do it to wind you up. Don't fall for it.

Stay cool.'

'It's OK for you,' I said. 'It isn't your kid they've got.'

'I know. But I do have a little girl about Tim's age. I can imagine what you're feeling.'

I'd been so wrapped up in my own problems that I'd never paused to think about Foxy's domestic circumstances. The news that he had a family made him seem suddenly more human. Looking at the lines on his forehead I thought, You must have started late, to have a daughter of four. And he, as if reading my mind, added, 'I didn't get married till I was thirty-seven.'

'Sorry,' I mumbled. 'I didn't mean anything personal.'

He smiled, and as he came past where I was sitting he gave me a bump on the arm with the heel of his hand.

At
nine o'clock
I rang Tony. 'Listen,' I said. 'The bastards haven't called. They're stringing us along.'

'Aw, shit. I've made a hell of a Mexican bean stew.'

'Go ahead and eat it, then. I don't know when I'll get back.'
    ‘I'll keep some warm for you anyhow.'

'Thanks, Tony.'

It was nearly eleven when the call at last came through. I was sitting by the phone, but not wanting to appear too eager I let it ring five times before I picked up the receiver. Then I just said, 'Yes?', 'Geordie Sharp?'

'Yep.'

'I'm calling about your family.'

Was this the same voice as on the tape? I didn't think so. A Belfast accent, all right, but somehow different.

The connection was brilliantly dear, as if the call was short-distance. I looked across at Fraser and raised a thumb.

'Kevin, is it?' I said.

'It is not. A friend of Kevin's.'

'Oh - right.'

'You're wanting them back.'

'Where are they?'

'I said, you're wanting them back. Are you