was so run down that as Ingrid sat next to Gurley in an unmarked embassy car on the main access road, she fully expected to see tumbleweed blow across the street.
“More waiting,” Gurley said, not for the first time. They’d been parked there for less than thirty minutes. Ingrid hoped something would happen soon. Otherwise his complaining would become unbearable.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She snatched it out and answered quickly.
“All personnel are in position,” Detective Sergeant Tyson informed her.
“You’re sure everyone’s well hidden?”
“It’s a bit tricky getting bodies in place in such a deserted location, but we’ve got some men about to start digging up the road just northwest of your current position, and a fake estate agent and two clients heading for the other entrance right about now. Everyone else is keeping their distance. As promised.” He paused. Ingrid could hear him breathing heavily, as if he’d been running. “Are you all right about this?” It was the first time anyone had actually asked her that outright. She was a little taken aback.
“I’m fine. I’ve worked this kind of operation dozens of times before. I’m an old hand, trust me.” It was a gross exaggeration, and she hadn’t done anything like it for more years than she cared to count. “Everything’s under control my end.” Just as she said that, a large muscle in her thigh started to twitch. She convinced herself it was because she hadn’t had a long run for too many days now—nothing to do with her mounting anxiety at all.
A minute later Gurley’s phone started to ring. He glanced at the screen. “This is it. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Gurley answered, selecting the speakerphone option once again.
“You double-crossing bastards. Yvonne said I could trust you! What is it with you people?”
“You can trust me,” Ingrid said, raising her voice.
“This place is crawling with cops!”
“Please, Kyle,” Ingrid said. “It’s just me and Major Gurley here.”
“You think I’m blind? Or stupid?
“You have to believe me—I had no idea the police were involved.” Ingrid winced at the weakness of her lie.
“Bull. Shit. You’ll regret this.”
46
Following Tyson’s directions, Gurley drove quickly around the perimeter of the industrial units and out onto the main drag where they found the detective sergeant standing beside DCI Radcliffe at the open rear doors of a small, white unmarked van.
Ingrid jumped out the car before it came to a complete stop, eager to get to Radcliffe before Gurley had a chance to let rip. “What the hell happened?” she said.
“You tell us. What’s he got, this bloke, some sort of sixth sense? You approved our positions before we went into this. What else could we have done?”
Ingrid shook her head. “Foster just told me we’d regret this. He sounded like a man who’s been pushed too far. I’m really worried for Tommy now.” It was the first time she’d even admitted that to herself.
“Jesus Christ?” Gurley yelled. “Can’t you get anything right? You were supposed to be invisible.” Gurley was somehow managing to square up to Radcliffe and Tyson simultaneously. Both detectives took a step backwards. Neither man seemed to have the energy for a fight.
“It happens,” Radcliffe said resignedly.
“Is that it? We just walk away? Where are the roadblocks?”
“We’ve got officers trawling the area. If he’s close by he won’t get far,” Tyson said, watching the retreating back of his senior officer as he disappeared into the van.
“OK—I’m getting back in the car, search for myself.” Gurley said. He turned to Ingrid. “You coming?”
“Actually, I’d like to stay here, speak to the DCI,” Ingrid told him. “Work out what went wrong.”
“Fine—you do that. I have nothing more to say to that man.”
Ingrid watched Gurley march back to the embassy car, hoping in his anger he wouldn’t smash into anything. After he’d accelerated away, tires squealing, she stepped up into the van.
She found Radcliffe sprawled out on a hard bench inside. The man looked exhausted.
“The American Air Force must train their pilots extraordinary well,” he said, rubbing a hand across his bloodshot eyes. “We really were careful about the placement of our officers. There shouldn’t have been any way for Foster to spot them. You have to believe me.” He pulled in his legs and shuffled sideways on the bench, patting the seat beside him. Ingrid perched on the edge.
“It’s OK—I haven’t come in here to question your tactics. What’s done is done. I’m more interested in discussing the new forensics evidence. What exactly do you have?”
Radcliffe seemed a little relieved. “DNA