Friday's Child (7 page)

This was precisely why he didn’t have a life outside of work. Never had and never would.

Finally, just after ten o’clock on Thursday morning, he got the lead they needed.

“Are you sure about this?” Shay yelled dashing after him.

“My source places him in the Hyacinth Street Mall and says that is the intended target. If we don’t move now it’s going to be too late.”

More running footsteps joined him as the rest of the unit pounded down the stairs. He unlocked the car from halfway across the garage and, in the same fluid movement, caught the Kevlar jacket someone tossed him. “Thanks. I’m driving.”

“You drive like a maniac,” Shay told him bluntly.

“If you drive, we’ll either get there tomorrow or once half the town’s been blown to kingdom come.”

“Fine, you drive. But I’m not paying your speeding fine.”

Patrick jumped in the car, starting it almost at the same time. “Not going to get one. And even if I did, Nahum would sort it.”

He shoved the car into reverse and swung out of the parking space and away, leaving rubber on the concrete. He was dimly aware of Shay hanging on tightly as he wove his way in and out of the traffic, praying the whole time that the lights would stay in his favor, the police wouldn’t pull him over, and, most of all, that they would arrive in time.

Screeching into the loading bay outside the mall, he jumped from the car, and ran inside. A security guard approached him and he pulled out his ID. “MI5. I need you to start an organized evacuation of the entire building. Now. Preferably without causing a panic.”

Not waiting for an answer, he moved inside the building. The place was a maze of shops, corridors, and staircases.

If someone was going to blow this up, it would have to be some place central to get as many people as possible, or somewhere strategic to maximize the damage.

He turned slowly, scanning the crowd of shoppers.

The tannoy crackled into life.

“Your attention, please. The mall is now closing due to an electrical fault in one of the shops. Please make your way to the nearest exit. Thank you.”

A flash of light caught his eye and he spun around. “Up there.” He pointed to the second of five floors and dashed to the stairs. Moving against the tide was almost impossible. The stairs were jammed with people trying to leave.

A gunshot echoed, causing panic. The orderly evacuation turned into a screaming mass of humanity heading to the exits, not caring who they trampled on in the process.

Patrick reached the upper level, and pulled his gun from its holster. He held it ready to fire as he approached the man on the edge of the gallery.

The man’s coat stood open, explosives strapped to his body. One arm snaked tightly around a terrified shopper’s neck, holding her against his side. In that hand he held the detonator, in the other he had a gun pointed at a security guard. His hands shook, sweat beaded his brow and he appeared to be muttering something under his breath.

Aware of everyone around him and the number of civilians still milling around and panicking, Patrick wasn’t going to wait for the order to come. The guy was a threat and he had hostages.

“Put the gun down,” Patrick ordered, taking charge. “We have you surrounded.”

The man looked at him with cold, dark eyes.

He’d seen intent like that once before and spent the next week in hospital recovering.

Patrick sucked in a deep breath. “Put the gun and the detonator down. You don’t want to do this.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to take the risk?”

From the corner of his eye, Patrick could see two other agents taking aim. “Are you? I can guarantee you I’m a better shot than you are and I’m faster. Your finger so much as twitches on that detonator and you’ll die. Is that what you want?”

“I’m ready to die.”

“What about all these people?” Patrick kept his aim straight. “And the rest of the town?”

The gunman laughed. “You think I care what happens to this town? The whole point of this bomb is that there will be no more town.”

Patrick held his gaze. “Shouldn’t they get a choice? What about the woman there? What’s her name?”

Nice one
the voice crackled in his ear piece.
Try to keep him talking.

“Stacey,” the woman whispered.

“Will you ask Stacey if she’s OK?”

The gunman looked at her. “Are you OK?”

The security guard moved towards him. The gunman swiftly turned and fired, sending him to the floor.

In the same moment, Patrick fired, his bullet neutralizing the gunman who landed on his back, the detonator falling from his hand. He knew the order, had he waited, would have been to kill, but he preferred to shoot to wound. Besides, this way they stood a chance of finding out why and who else he was working with.

Keeping the gun on him, Patrick moved swiftly, kicking the gun and detonator to one side. “Get the bomb squad up here, now. Next shot kills, so I’d keep very, very still if I were you.”

The woman knelt where she had fallen, shaking and crying. One of the other agents gently helped her to her feet and led her away.

Shay appeared by his side, her gun also aimed at the terrorist. “You’re an idiot to take a chance like that, Patrick. What if he had detonated the bomb? Or killed the hostage?”

He sucked in a deep breath, keeping his gaze on the man on the floor. “He didn’t. He’s down, and everything is secure. That’s what matters.”

“So the town is safe for another day. Agent 3.14 strikes again, winning another battle in the epic war against terror on our doorstep.”

“Yep, with his trusty sidekick Agent 7x3 at his side.”

Noah, their section leader glared their way. “Don’t you two ever give it a rest?”

“No,” they chorused.

The bomb squad and paramedics arrived. Patrick kept his gaze to the man on the floor, not dropping his aim until he was sure all danger was passed.

****

Later that afternoon, Patrick sat at his desk, his fingers hovering over the computer keyboard. He’d filed his report. Now he had a spare five minutes, thoughts of Elle and the problems with her manager filled his mind. Not to mention the niggling seed of doubt planted by DI Nemec. Could he afford to get involved with her again if she were caught up in all of this? Should he declare his interest in her? Tell Nahum he had a past relationship with a potential suspect? He had to be sure before he did anything. He typed Elle’s name into the database.

Shay leaned over his shoulder, putting a mug of coffee on his desk. “Here you go, just the way you like it.”

He picked it up and took a deep breath, filling his senses with the dark aroma. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing? Who’s Eleanor Harrison?”

“She’s a friend.”

“You search all your friends on the national criminal database?”

He took a large drink. “No.”

“Good. Because if you do, I am so glad I’m not your ‘friend.’”

“I know it’s an abuse of power, but there’s something not quite right.” He frowned at the smile on her face. “Don’t you laugh at me.”

“I’m not. It’s kind of cute. Anyway, it’s about time you got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend, actually.”

“Oh, that just makes your actions seriously creepy. It’s like stalking her on one of these social media sites just so you can see what she’s posting or who she’s going out with instead of you.” Shay plunked herself down on the chair next to his. “I want all the details.”

Patrick laughed. “Does that make you a voyeur, too?”

“Nope, I’m merely looking out for my partner. And an interested party.”

Nahum stuck his head around the edge of his glass office. “Patrick, Shay, get in here now.”

Patrick grinned. “Sprung. I swear that guy is omnipresent and knows what I plan to do before I actually do it.”

“He probably just wants to moan because you shot to wound rather than killed the guy in the mall. Of course, if you’d taken the kill shot without permission, he’d still be moaning.” Shay winked.

“Maybe, but at least we can get intel from the bloke now. Assuming he talks.” He got to his feet and grabbed his coffee. “But I’m taking this with me. Right now, I need the caffeine to stay awake. I’ve lived on adrenaline for too long. Come on.” He crossed the room, noticing Nahum shut the door behind them. “What’s up, boss?”

“Have either of you heard of the soul singer Lisa Bellamy? Real name Eleanor Harrison.”

Shay shook her head. “Nope.”

Patrick drew in a sharp breath. Elle was on the MI5 radar? Why?

Nahum looked at him. “Patrick?”

“Yeah, I have. I heard her sing the other night. What about her? She in some kind of trouble?”

Nahum nodded and held out identical sheets of paper to them both. “Knowing her will help. Read this, tell me what you think.”

Patrick took the paper, his heart pounding and his mind reeling, fearing the worst. He read the copied letter slowly.
Eleanor is being sent threatening letters and for this they contact us? That makes no sense.
Setting his coffee down, he read the letter again.

“You’re kidding. Why us? Surely the police can handle this. They have a protection program, don’t they?” Shay commented. “They don’t need us for that.”

“Keep reading.”

Patrick carried on reading. He sat heavily in the chair by the desk, the wind knocked from him. His stomach cramped and his tie threatened to choke him. Reaching up to his collar, he undid the top button and loosened his tie a little. He’d hoped Elle only sang at the club. No, this indicated her ties ran much deeper. “This is tied into the info from DI Nemec, right?”

How did she get mixed up with this?

Nahum studied him, inclining his head slowly. “That is why we’ve been asked to protect her, as we’re running this op anyway. And also why you and Shay are being assigned this case. So far we have no idea how she got involved with Foster, but Noah and Frank are checking that out as we speak. Thoughts?”

He shuffled through the papers, trying to control his thudding heart and prevent it from breaking free from the confines of his chest. “I’m still not convinced this bloke I saw at the club is Foster. Nemec knows that. I’m keeping him in the loop. As far as Elle…Miss Harrison goes? I know her, knew her years ago. There is no way she’d be involved in anything illegal.”

Nahum’s eyebrows shot up into his receding hair line. “First name terms? Knew her in the past? How?”

“I was her mentor at university. We haven’t seen each other in years. Well, not until we bumped into each other last week at the library when I collected the drop from one of my snouts. I want the lead on this one. First thing we need to do is pull her out.”

“She’s our contact. We work with her, keep her on the inside.”

“I’m not sure that is the right way to do things. Get any information she has, sure.” Patrick blurted. “But if she’s being threatened, we get her out now.”

“Perhaps someone more impartial would be better suited for this investigation.”

Patrick set the file down. He’d almost slipped up then—he needed to be more careful. “I am perfectly capable of being impartial. Like I already said, I want this one. She might be more willing to work with us if it’s someone she knows.”

Nahum held his gaze, his brows furrowing. “You mess up, even a tad, and you’re off the case, is that understood?”

Patrick didn’t flinch. The slightest movement of his eyes and Nahum would pounce on it. “Perfectly. My thinking is, get her into protective custody. Escort her to and from the club, at least for now. That way we can keep tabs on what she’s doing, get info from her and keep this Mr. F from getting suspicious.”

“Then fine. Move in with her. Do what you have to do. Just keep her alive and safe. Find out what she knows.”

“I’ll move her into my place.”

“Not a good idea, especially if you know her. I can’t have you compromised in any way. Use the safe house on Brook Street. And use your head. We have no idea how involved she is in this. It could be a ruse to take the heat off of her.”

“And it might not be.” Shay voiced what he wanted to say.

He shot her a grateful glance. She always seemed to know what he was thinking. The art of a good partner.

“This is exactly why we’re taking her into safe custody. Go home both of you. Pack for a few days, then pick her up.”

Patrick drained his coffee and exchanged a long glance with Shay. “Fine. Where is she?”

“Manor Street police station. They’re expecting you.”

****

Eleanor sat in the police station, biting her index fingernail down to the quick. Her stomach churned, the butterflies and nausea making her head pound. With every passing moment, the need to throw up grew. Her skin alternated between hot and cold and clammy. The officer she had spoken to had put her in a small office and, once he’d taken her details several times, left her alone.

Strictly speaking, the building itself was busy and there were plenty of officers around, and the office probably had a CCTV camera hidden somewhere, but she was alone none the less.

Why were they treating her like the criminal here? She didn’t know who’d sent her the letters. She wished she did. There had to be a better option than being dead. Although being dead wasn’t an option. It would leave Abbie with
her—

Abbie…she had to get to her, protect her. Maybe if she just left, no one would stop her. She could come back later, with Abbie.

She stood, heading to the door.

The door creaked as it opened. She jumped, seeing a man in the doorway. Her heart pounded, blood raced in her ears and everything finally became too much and she fell into the all-consuming darkness…

A voice echoed through the black tendrils claiming her. It called her name, beckoning her back towards the light. A voice from the past.

Strong arms held her, soft fingers stroking her cheek. “Elle?”

Her eyes flickered open, focusing on the face above hers. She hadn’t imagined him. “Patrick?”

“Yeah, in the flesh.” He gently held a glass to lips. “Drink this. It’s water.”