The Half Truth(89)

Tina fidgeted in her seat and her patience was rewarded.

‘Russia accuses Britain of kidnapping one of its citizens in the wake of the arrest of a suspect charged in connection with the killing of police officer Neil Edwards during the Moorgate bank robbery five years ago.’

Tina studied the news footage. It showed a car pulling into what looked like some sort of police compound in darkness, accompanied by two police outriders, their blue lights flashing. No sign of John.

She sat glued to the seat, willing the news reports to pass quickly, until they got to the Moorgate robbery item. The Welsh lilt of the news presenter seemed to dance across the room, repeating what Tina had already learned, really providing no more information. It showed a picture of Neil Edwards in his police uniform and a clip from five years ago of the scene cornered off after the shooting. Then it skipped back to the present day and the footage of the cars pulling into the compound. Tina sat on her knees in front of the screen, not unlike Dimitri did when he was watching something really exciting, and then she saw John. He was exiting the unmarked car and as he turned to open the rear door, she caught a good look of his face. She pressed the pause button. It was definitely John. Full marks to Mr Cooper for spotting him.

Tina watched the rest of the report and then spent the next ten minutes replaying it, purely to get a glimpse of John. The footage had cut back to the studio before the occupant in the rear of the car had been revealed. She didn’t need to see. She knew who it was. She was glad for John’s sake.

Maybe now he could forgive himself.





Chapter 46


John looked through the two-way glass into the holding room where Pavel Bolotnikov sat on a plastic chair in the middle of the empty space.

John had been wrestling with his feelings ever since they had arrived at the high-security unit. They weren’t taking any risks with interviewing Pavel at a police station, there was too much of a chance that someone would want to either attempt to rescue him or, more likely, silence him.

John hadn’t had time to consider his own emotions when they picked Pavel up in Russia. Too much was at stake to take his eye off the job in hand. Entering the country covertly, without attracting the attention of the Russian authorities, was one thing – kidnapping and extracting one of its citizens from right under their noses was another. If they had been caught they were, to all intents and purposes, on their own. Imprisonment, interrogation and, possibly, even death the only thing to look forward to. The Home Office’s official line was that the British Government wasn’t sanctioning any extradition operations, a line they were maintaining after the successful bid to bring Pavel back to the UK for trial.

Now, in the cold light of day, John wasn’t experiencing the feelings of euphoria that he had anticipated. The past five years had been leading up to this moment and now that it was here, it wasn’t that it was an anti-climax, but more of accomplishment. A job well done. The anger no longer burned, the hatred had been quelled. It surprised him. He was also left with something else he couldn’t quite identify. Peace? Was that what he felt? Had he finally got justice for Neil? Maybe not justice, that would come when he saw Pavel sentenced. He hoped the courts wouldn’t be too easy on him in light of the deal now on the table.

The door behind John opened and he turned to see Martin coming in.

‘So, the bastard is going to deal, then?’ He stood beside John.

‘Looks that way.’

‘How do you feel about that?’

‘He’ll still be put away for a long time. There’s no way they’ll be too lenient with someone who has killed a police officer.’ John turned his back on the glass.

‘True. Plus you won’t have to go in the witness box and have your identity hidden and all that shit.

John gave a shrug. ‘Not that I’m particularly bothered having to do that. In fact, it would be my pleasure. But, as you so eloquently put it, it saves all that shit.’

‘Fancy a pint?’ said Martin, his hand resting on the door handle. ‘You can show off your war wound to the lads.’

John touched the cut above his eyebrow. A wound courtesy of Pavel expressing his disagreement at being bundled into a car.

‘Yeah, only the one, though,’ said John. ‘I’ve got someone to see.’

‘That wouldn’t be a certain Russian widow would it?’

‘Need-to-know basis, mate,’ said John, giving his friend a nudge in the back. There was also another widow he needed to speak to and Martin definitely didn’t need to know that.

It was a bit of a shitty thing to do; keep watch on Hannah’s house until her boyfriend went out, but John didn’t want a confrontation with the guy. It would only upset Hannah and that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.