Hunter Hunted by Jack Gatland (best value ebook reader .TXT) 📗

One of the officers nodded and pulled out a key, uncuffing and then taking away the handcuffs. Declan rubbed life back into his wrists as he looked out of the window at Billy and Frost.

‘How’s Anjli?’ he asked. ‘And the pub?’

‘They were lucky,’ Billy replied after looking quickly to Frost. Although his friendship was to Declan, his loyalty was to his career, and Frost was his superior. ‘They were in the beer cellar, awaiting a delivery when the bomb went off. Ground zero seemed to be the security room at the back, which was utterly destroyed. Also, the upper floor was pretty much undamaged, the buildings around only suffering external glass damage, with only the external frontage of the pub permanently ruined. It was almost as if they did it for show.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Frost added. ‘We don’t know what Taylor’s plan was.’

‘Still keeping that narrative?’ Declan asked. ‘Top points for consistency. Where’s my solicitor?’

‘Do you need one?’ Frost enquired. Declan shrugged.

‘Sutcliffe said there was one here.’

‘Detective Chief Inspector Sutcliffe must have been mistaken,’ Frost replied. ‘Or, he wanted you here with a minimum of histrionics.’

Declan nodded, looking back to Billy. ‘And how’s Detective Chief Inspector Monroe?’

‘We don’t know,’ Billy admitted, ignoring the jibe. ‘He seems to have gone missing with Doctor Marcos. DC Davey told an officer to call for armed backup but when they got there, all three were gone.’

‘DC Davey is an hysterical idiot,’ Frost muttered. ‘Sooner she’s suspended for wasting police time, the better.’

Gone was good, Declan thought to himself. Gone meant no dead body.

There was movement from the door, and Sutcliffe entered the main office.

‘Stop talking to the suspect,’ he snapped at Billy and Frost. ‘Fitzwarren, you’re in with me.’ Entering the interview room with Billy, Sutcliffe sat down opposite Declan.

‘I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but it looks real bad for you,’ he said, leaning over to the recorder, clicking it on. There was a long beep and then the device started recording.

‘Interview with Declan Walsh—‘

‘DI Walsh,’ Declan interrupted.

‘Interview with Detective Inspector Walsh,’ Sutcliffe amended, looking to his watch. ‘One thirty-seven pm, DCI Sutcliffe and DC Fitzwarren in attendance.’

‘Shouldn’t we be waiting for his solicitor?’ Billy asked nervously.

‘Don’t need one,’ Sutcliffe smiled, his eyes not leaving Declan’s face. ‘We’re just having a friendly chat.’

‘Then turn off the recorder,’ Declan replied. ‘Because friendly chats aren’t admissible in court.’

‘Guilty conscience?’ Sutcliffe asked.

‘Not at all,’ Declan replied, leaning back in his chair as he measured Sutcliffe. ‘I’m guessing this is all a power play because you were told by a Tory MP to let me take over a case that would have made your currently limited career for you.’

‘Interview paused,’ Sutcliffe stabbed at the recorder as he turned it off. ‘How dare you!’

‘How dare I?’ Declan leaned forward now, his face a mask of fury. ‘You left me to stand in the open while everyone with a smartphone uploaded me to the internet! You’ve blamed me for a murder I couldn’t have committed, ignored injuries I took while defending my life from armed insurgents and a bomb that almost killed me, and labelled my girlfriend a terrorist, when you damn well know this is a campaign by either Charles Baker or Rattlestone! Tell me, Sutcliffe, which one of those is paying your mortgage these days?’

Sutcliffe stared at Declan with a cold, hard hatred.

‘So she’s your girlfriend?’ he asked. Declan leaned back, calming down.

‘She was, many years ago,’ he replied carefully.

‘And you know nothing about the pub she was in last night?’

‘No,’ Declan lied. Sutcliffe nodded, looking to Billy, who reluctantly pushed a closed manila folder over to him. Opening it, Sutcliffe read from a page.

‘The Horse and Guard pub. Chelsea. A favourite drinking spot for Chelsea Pensioners. Strange that she’s there the night before a bomb goes off.’

‘A bomb that doesn’t actually kill anyone and destroys security footage.’

‘Incompetence isn’t proof of innocence.’

‘Neither is hearsay,’ Declan shook his head. ‘I don’t get this. Why are you so convinced to paint her as the enemy? Why are you doing your best to discredit me in the process? You know damn well that I didn’t kill Nasir Gill.’

‘What were you talking about before he died?’ Sutcliffe closed the folder. Declan shrugged.

‘He worked with Kendis. There were people going to kill him.’

‘Ah yes,’ Sutcliffe smiled, looking to Billy, who currently wore the expression of a man who really didn’t want to be there. ‘The mysterious man, in the mysterious car, with the mysterious note.’

‘Nothing mysterious about him,’ Declan replied. ‘The car registration showed that it’s a Rattlestone fleet vehicle. Therefore, he’s a Rattlestone employee.’

‘One that’s been following you and you alone?’

‘Maybe. Or it’s the team. I saw him at the Taylor house, and I recall a man looking like him when I went to the ACCU.’

‘Convenient that nobody else did,’ Sutcliffe mused. ‘Or that DS Kapoor didn’t hear this alleged Rattlestone employee yelling into his phone, nor did she see these notes that you saw so well in what, the half a second you had there? And it was so convenient that he’d left it open and angled so you could read them.’

‘Convenience doesn’t equate to lies,’ Declan replied. That he yelled into a phone for someone to do it now seconds before a pub we were about to enter exploded is fact, not speculation.’

‘Fact by you, an unreliable witness.’

‘And why am I an unreliable witness?’

‘Come on, Walsh. The murder victim, the extremist—‘

‘Alleged.’

‘The alleged extremist terrorist was a close friend of yours. And you’re telling me you never once picked up on these personality shifts in her, these changes?’ Sutcliffe tutted to himself. ‘You’re a shit detective, or you knew about it and lied.’

‘First off, I haven’t seen her for years,’ Declan replied heatedly. ‘And second, she’s not a goddamned terrorist!’

‘What did she say to you?’ Sutcliffe asked softly. ‘In the cemetery?’

Declan faltered. How did Sutcliffe know of the meeting?

‘Who?’

‘DS Kapoor, when she pulled you away.’

Declan relaxed again. ‘You’ll need to ask her