a series of empty spaces on the kerb. He figured she had some kind of safe house here, or there would be a switch car parked on the street. She’d either pull the trigger and leave him in the car, pieces of his neck and brain all over the interior, or she’d keep him as a hostage and take him with her. He felt the pistol in the woman’s grip soften slightly, no longer pressed as hard against his neck. She thought she was home free.
He made his move.
He suddenly put his foot down all the way, and the car leapt forward.
Then he slammed down on the brake pedal as hard as he could.
The woman wasn’t expecting it and she wasn’t wearing a seat-belt. It threw her forward, her pistol momentarily jarred free from his neck. In a flash, he let go of the wheel and grabbed her arm with his left hand, pushing and holding it to one side. With his right, he pulled his father’s Sig from the holster on his cop uniform, jamming it into her neck, right under her chin. He gripped her right arm tightly with his left hand, the limb fully extended, her pistol now aimed uselessly at the windshield.
Archer’s Sig was now pushed under her neck, his hand and stronger grip clamped on her left arm, holding her in place.
The tables had turned.
With her head tilted to one side from the pistol, she looked over at him, scared.
‘My turn,’ he said. ‘Now let’s have a talk.’
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘My names Katic. Mina Katic. I’m a Special Agent. I work for the FBI,’ she said fast, trying to shift her position. He tightened his grip on her left arm and kept the Sig nestled in her neck.
‘Bullshit. You’re after the cash. Do FBI agents hold up getaway drivers?’
‘You’re not a getaway driver. You’re an English cop.’
Pause.
‘How did you know that?’
‘I was at your father’s funeral. You saw me, remember? I was standing across from you. I knew who you were before then. I’d checked up on you. Found you on the UK Met system. I’ve been tailing you ever since.’
‘Are you Farrell’s inside man?’
Her head tilted away, he saw her frown, then her eyes widen.
‘What? No? Did he tell you he had one?’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Listen to me. Please. I need your help.’
‘With what?’
She tried to shift, but he kept her where she was.
‘With what?’ he repeated.
‘I know there’s a leak in our team. You just confirmed it.’
‘And it’s not you?’
She shook her head slightly, as much as the Sig would allow. ‘I swear. I got the jump on you because I had to get you out of there. You’re being played.’
‘By who?’
Pause.
‘By Gerrard, I think.’
Archer looked at her for a moment, incredulous.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes.’
‘What complete bullshit. I’ve known Gerry almost my whole life. He’s clean as a choirboy.’
She shook her head.
‘He’s flipped. He’s working with the bank team. He had a deal worked out with Farrell and his crew, but Farrell won’t co-operate with him anymore. Gerrard’s trying to find out where they’re keeping their money and take it for himself. He’s using you to get to the cash.’
‘Bullshit. He’s straight as an arrow.’
Pause. He tightened his grip on her arm.
‘Anyway, you’re the one holding me up. Maybe you’re the leak in the detail,’ he said.
‘Does anyone know you are working with him?’
Archer went to respond.
But he didn’t.
‘Has he ever taken you to Federal Plaza?’ she asked.
Archer didn’t reply.
‘Does anyone else in the detail apart from me know who you are?’
Pause.
‘Yes. He briefed your team. He told you all what the deal was.’
She shook her head. ‘No he didn’t. We weren’t even on duty tonight.’
Pause.
But despite the heat, Archer’s blood started going cold.
‘Show me your I.D,’ he said. ‘Now.’
He eased back slightly as she reached down to her hip with her left hand and pulled it slowly, flipping it open for him to see. He glanced at it. It looked legit.
‘I’m trying to help you, I promise,’ she said, her head pushed back from the Sig in her neck. ‘Can you put the gun down? It’s hard to talk like this.’
He thought for a moment, weighing her up.
‘Drop yours first.’
She complied straight away. The other Sig clattered onto the dashboard and slid down, dropping into the front passenger foot-space.
And he let her go.
She panted in the seat, rubbing her neck, leaning back.
‘You don’t need that,’ she said, looking at the gun in his hand, which was still aimed at her stomach. ‘Right