Relentless (25 page)

Bolt sat up in the bed, fully awake now. 'How did you know
about them?'
'Not through you, that's for sure. I suspect we found out the
same way you did. We checked Mr Calley's phone records and
saw that his last call was made to the Meron address. Bet you
didn't think we could manage that, did you?'
'Listen, I'm not trying to hide anything--'
'We also found out that Mrs Meron appears to be wanted in
connection with the murder yesterday of a Vanessa Blake,'
continued Lambden, still sounding extremely irate. 'So, we're
not as pig-ignorant as you might think.'
Bolt rubbed his eyes. 'I never said you were.'
'Actions speak a lot louder than words.'
'If you give me a second, I'll tell you everything I know.'
'Good. Fire away.'
'First of all, I'm sorry. Everything was moving so fast yesterday,
I got ahead of myself. I was going to call and update you
this morning.'
'OK, apology accepted,' he said, without missing a beat. 'Now,
what can you tell me that'll make my job of finding whoever
strung up Calley easier?'
Bolt knew he was going to have to give Lambden something
decent if he was to get him to remain onside. So, as he got out of
bed and walked into the bathroom, he told him that ParnhamJones's
suicide was looking like murder, and that at the time of
his death he was being blackmaile'd. He didn't mention the child
abuse allegations since there was still absolutely nothing tangible
to back them up. 'I don't know what connection the ParnhamJones
death has with Jack Calley or the Merons, but the timing's
extremely coincidental,' he concluded.
'Someone's looking for the Merons,' said Lambden. 'I found

out this morning that a cottage they part-owned in the New
Forest got burned down last night, and there were reports of
gunfire coming from the area. The local police have got SOCO
teams going over there this morning to sift through what's left of
the wreckage and see if there are any bodies in there.'
'If they're dead, we're in trouble. I can't think of anyone else
who's in a position to explain why Jack Calley and Vanessa
Blake were murdered. Have you put out traces on their
mobiles?'
'That's another of the reasons I was calling you,' said the DCI.
'You know how hard it is to get authorization for a trace. We need one on Kathy Meron's phone, and you, being NCS, have
got a better chance of getting it than me. If you can do something
on that score, it'd be a big help.'
Bolt poured himself a glass of water. 'Leave it with me. I'll
keep you posted of how I get on this time as well, OK?'
'Thanks.'
'No hard feelings, eh?'
'None at all.' It sounded as though Lambden meant it as well,
which made Bolt feel a little guilty. Perhaps he'd judged him too
harshly yesterday. Lambden gave him Kathy Meron's mobile
number and hung up.
If either Tom or Kathy had their mobile phones with them,
and they were switched on, it would be possible for the network
provider to pinpoint their exact location simply by tracking
the phones' signals - something that Jean Riley could probably
sort out in no time, with her contacts. But in the UK Police
Service there are always hurdles to jump, and Bolt would have
to go right up the chain of command to the head of the NCS,
Detective Chief Superintendent Steve Evans, in order to gain
approval for such a course of action. He called Evans now.

The DCS was a renowned early riser, a habit he'd picked up in
his previous life in the military, and he answered on the second
ring, as if he'd been waiting for exactly this call. Bolt was swift
and to the point. He wanted a trace on both the Merons' mobile
phones, and explained his reasons.
Evans listened patiently, and when Bolt had finished the DCS
was also swift and to the point. 'I'm going to give you verbal
authorization for a trace on Kathy Meron's phone, not Tom's,'
he said. 'There's not enough probable cause on him.'
Bolt didn't argue. There was no point. Evans was sticking his
neck out as it was. He thanked his boss for his help.
'Keep me informed of your progress,' Evans told him, 'and
we'll sort out all the paperwork later.'
Next, Bolt called Jean Riley, waking her up. She sounded
awful, hardly able to string a sentence together. 'It's twenty past
seven, guv. What are you doing? I've only been in bed three
hours.' At twenty-four, Jean Riley was something of a party
animal who liked to let her hair down when she wasn't working.
She was the complete opposite of Matt Turner, which was
probably the reason they got on so well.
'Emergency, Jean,' Bolt said unsympathetically, filling her in
on what he needed and ignoring her hangover-induced groans
and occasional bouts of rasping coughs.
'Blimey, this case is taking on a life of its own, isn't it?'
she said, waking up at last. 'Any ideas what the hell's going
on?'
'Plenty, but whether they're the right ones is anyone's guess.
Call me back as soon as you've got a trace on Kathy Meron's
phone.'
Then, having flung on a dressing gown and made some strong
coffee, he called Mo and updated him on the new developments,

from the blackmail email Turner had discovered on ParnhamJones's
PC to the burning down of the holiday cottage in the
New Forest. It was breakfast time in the Khan household, and
he could hear the sound of Mo's kids charging about and Saira
trying, with only limited success, to keep order. The raucous
noise made a stark contrast to the silence in Bolt's kitchen.
'So someone else knew about P-J's little sideline?'
'It looks that way. Turner's trying to track down the source of
the email and he'll be getting back to me later. The reason I
called was just to keep you in the loop. I don't need you to do
anything today. Spend some time with the family.'
'Thanks for that,' said Mo, and told him to hang on a moment.
Bolt heard a door shutting and the background noise fading out.
'Listen, boss,' Mo whispered, 'I don't want to miss out on
anything, not on a case this big. If you need me, let me know, all
right? We're just planning a quiet morning here, so you won't be
disturbing anything.'
'No problem. If anything serious comes up, I'll be on the
phone. But you go and enjoy yourself, OK?'
'Do you think the Merons are dead?' he asked.
'They could be,' Bolt admitted, 'because whatever they know
is obviously worth killing them for. And if they are dead, their
secret's going to die with them, and I've got a horrible feeling
that'll put us straight back to where we started.'
They fell silent for a moment.
'Anyway,' said Mo eventually, 'you know where I am.'

37

'I think you owe me an explanation,' I said at last when we were
on the M27, heading east towards Southampton and the M3. In the twenty minutes up until that point we'd driven entirely
in brooding, fearful silence.
Kathy sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding my
gaze. I had a feeling she'd avoid my gaze now for the rest of her
life - however long that was going to be.
'When I was at Jack's yesterday, he gave me a key. It's for a
safety deposit box in King's Cross.'
'What's in it?'
'He didn't tell me. He said that if anything happened to him I
was to go down there, take out the contents, and make them
public. He said he couldn't do it himself because it would be
unethical.'
'Since when did he ever worry about being unethical? It's
unethical to sleep with your friend's wife. That didn't seem to
bother him.'
'I'm telling you what he said, all right?'

"Hiis is what they're after, isn't it? Whatever's in that box?'

'I don't know. I suppose so.'
'And you never asked him what was in it?'
'I did, but he just said it was something that belonged to a
client. And before you ask, I don't know who the client was.'
I shook my head in disbelief. 'And you took it? The key? Why
did you have to get involved? What the hell did any of it have to
do with you?'
'Listen, Tom, I know I made a mistake, OK?'
'Is that what you call all this? A fucking mistake? It's a little
bit more than that, love. At least three people I can think of are
dead, and now some sadistic bastard's got our kids. All because
you had to have an affair with that cheating, lying bastard.'
'I know, Tom, I fucking know. You don't have to keep reminding
me.'
I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. 'And you
really have no idea what's in that deposit box?'
Kathy seemed to calm down as well, and when she replied her
voice was softer. 'I don't, and I've got no desire to find out
either. Whatever it is, they're welcome to it.'
'Why didn't you say something earlier, then?'
'When did I get the chance? After Jack got killed, I didn't
know what to do. I panicked and just drove down to the cottage.
I was trying to work out what to do. Then when you came down
with that man who claimed to be a policeman--'
'Daniels.' In all the excitement, I'd forgotten about him. He'd
saved our lives the previous night, and I wondered if he too had
made it out.
'Yes, him. When I recognized his voice from Jack's place, it
threw me completely. I was sure he was after whatever was in
the box, and I thought that once he found out about it, and we
were no longer any use to him, he'd get rid of us.'

It sounded like a plausible story, though God alone knew
what the box contained. Something explosive, I had no doubt
about that. But why had Jack given the key to Kathy? His
excuse about ethics was just that, an excuse. He'd given it to her
for a reason, and again I felt sure she wasn't telling me the whole
truth.
I asked her once again how her prints got on the filleting knife.
She said she honestly didn't know. 'You do believe I didn't
have anything to do with Vanessa's death, don't you?' she said.
'Because the man who killed her attacked you. But you still
don't believe me?'
'I don't know what to believe any more,' I answered, and it
was true. I didn't.
Once again we fell into a tense silence as both our minds
focused on the most important thing: the welfare of our kids.

38

Bolt drank two coffees, ate the leftovers of his Thai takeaway
and a banana, showered, and was in the process of getting
dressed when his mobile rang again.
'Bad news and good news.' It was Jean Riley, and she was
sounding a lot more sprightly than earlier.
'Give me the bad.'
'They can't get a trace on Kathy Meron's number. It's switched
off

'And the good?'
'It's unlikely they're dead. Or at least Tom Meron isn't. I
managed to get a check done on his records and a call was
made from his mobile at 7.08 this morning, lasting ninety-eight
seconds. The location was just outside Bolderwood in the New
Forest. The number being called was a pay-as-you-go mobile,
not registered to any individual.'
Bolt looked at his watch. 8.05. Less than an hour ago. 'Can
you get a trace on that one?'
'You'll need to speak to the big boss to get that.'
Bolt knew it was doubtful that DCS Evans would approve a
trace on a number called from Tom Meron's mobile when he
wouldn't approve a trace on Meron's own phone. And if the
number belonged to the people who were after the Merons, it
was likely that it would already be switched off. But the fact that
a call had been made at least gave him room for some optimism.
'Do me a favour, Jean.'
'Another one?'
'The last, I promise. You've got to make sure that you know
the minute Kathy Meron's phone emits a signal, and tell me
straight away. And if you can do some begging and pleading,
and see if you can get your contact to let you know if Tom's gets
switched on, even better.'
'That's two favours.'
'Well, they're the last two. I know it's not strictly above board,
but see what you can do. I'll stand you drinks all night the next
time we all go out.'
'You know,' she said, 'I'd settle for knowing exactly what it is
the Merons have got to do with the Lord Chief Justice's suicide.'
Wouldn't we all, thought Bolt as he hung up.

39

The village of Hambleden, perched at the edge of the Chilterns,
is quintessentially English and has been used as a backdrop for
numerous films and TV programmes. I know this because I've
seen some of them. It's got a small, attractive square with a
fourteenth-century church, a village shop, a family butcher's and
a pub on the corner called the Stag and Huntsman. The houses
are quaint, old and very attractive. A couple of them even have
thatched roofs.
It was 8.13 when Kathy pulled up at the side of the road,
directly outside the phone box. I got out of the car without
looking at her, and stepped inside. The interior of the phone box
smelled a little stale, but was remarkably free of the usual stench
of urine you get in the ones in London. Perhaps they preferred
using toilets out here.
I stood there, cold and still, watching the second hand ticking
on my watch. It made it to the top and kept going. 8.14. One
more minute. Thank Christ Kathy had driven like a maniac. But
I couldn't help thinking that it might be too late. My children,
my4 recious children, might already be dead. A five-year old and

a four-year old - everything to me, yet just an inconvenience and
a bargaining tool to the men who'd taken them. And put in this
position all because of the treachery first of my former friend,
then of my wife. I didn't care what was in that fucking safety
deposit box at King's Cross station. It meant nothing to me. All I
wanted was to get back to where things were before, when my
marriage was good and the world was fine, and my children were
laughing and happy. But as the second hand ticked relentlessly
on, passing the six, I knew that whatever happened the past was
gone for ever. And that the future for all of us might well be
very short and very dark.
The phone rang, shrill and loud, startling me. I stole a glance
at Kathy. She was staring through the windscreen, her features
rigid and haunted, having aged ten years in the past hour. I
picked up. My throat felt dry, and when I spoke my voice was a
croak.
'Tom Meron.'
'You've made good time,' said the man I'd spoken to earlier.
'I trust you've followed your instructions.'
'Yes, I have.'
'You switched off the phones and got rid of them?'
'I did. I'm not going to do anything that risks my children's
lives.'
'Very wise. I have further instructions for you. You are to
walk north through the village square in the direction of the Stag
and Huntsman pub. It will be on your right as you pass it.
Continue on the road as it goes up the hill, and you'll be met
by someone on the way. That person will have his identity
concealed, and you will go with him. If there's anyone tracking
you, we'll know about it, and one of your children will be
sacrificed as forfeit.'