Finlay had dozed off at the wheel of the car in the outside lane of the motorway. This had not been as disastrous as it might have been, as they had been sitting in stationary traffic for over forty minutes. The rain was hammering down hard enough to drown out his snores, sounding more like rocks against the thin metal than water. The windscreen wipers had long since stopped having any effect, which was likely to be the reason for the delay up ahead.
In an attempt at anonymity, they had requisitioned a pool car, which they had successfully driven right past the press as they retreated for cover from the sudden rainstorm. Even if they had had sirens, they were trapped in the outside lane of four, and the gridlocked traffic had diffused into every feasible space. They would never have reached the hard shoulder, which stood frustratingly out of reach, less than ten metres away.
Wolf had spoken to Chief Inspector Walker at Southall Police Station. He had immediately struck Wolf as being both competent and intelligent. He had searched Rana on arrival and confined him to a custody cell with one of his men posted at the door. He assured Wolf that only four people, including himself, were aware of Rana’s presence in the building. He had sworn his men to secrecy, even from their colleagues out on the road. Walker had closed the station to the public at Wolf’s request, claiming a fictional gas leak, and instructed his officers to take their breaks at other stations. Despite the delay, Wolf was satisfied that Rana was in safe hands for the time being.
The five-vehicle pile-up was eventually moved aside to provide entertainment for the dawdling stream of traffic filtering past in the nearside lane. They reached Southall a little over an hour later and the first rumbles of thunder rolled across the dark sky as Wolf and Finlay climbed out of the car. The street lighting was already on, reflecting off the tops of the scurrying umbrellas and the torrent of water flooding the gutters, racing the congested traffic along the high street.
They were both soaked through after their ten-second dash from the car park up to the station’s rear entrance. The chief inspector let them inside and then swiftly relocked the door behind them. He was around Finlay’s age and proudly sported the familiar uniform. His severely receding hairline suited him so well that it gave the impression he was going bald on purpose. He greeted them warmly and led them through to the break room, where he offered them each a hot drink.
‘So gentlemen, is there a plan for Mr Rana?’ asked Walker. He directed the question at Finlay, presumably as a courtesy to the older man because he was well aware that Wolf had been making the arrangements.
‘It’s pretty short notice for Protected Persons to arrange something,’ said Finlay, wiping rainwater off his face with a saturated sleeve. ‘They won’t move until they can guarantee he’ll be safe.’
‘I shall leave that in your more than capable hands then,’ said Walker. ‘Please make yourselves at home.’
‘I’d like to speak to him,’ said Wolf as Walker turned to leave the room.
He took a moment to reply, perhaps searching for the least offensive wording for his response.
‘DS Fawkes, you are quite the celebrity at the moment,’ he started.
Wolf was unsure where he was going with this.
‘Although, and I mean no disrespect by this, you were before all this came about anyway, weren’t you?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that, when Mr Rana came stumbling into reception this afternoon, he was quite distressed. He wanted to distance himself from his wife and children, which is quite understandable under the circumstances. He then broke down and proceeded to weep for his dead brother.’
‘I see,’ said Wolf, now understanding Walker’s reservations: he knew. Wolf was a little irritated; although, he appreciated that the chief inspector was only doing his job. ‘I have never met or even heard of Vijay Rana before all this. My only interest in him is in keeping him alive, and I’d say if anybody needs protecting during our meeting, it’ll be me.’
‘Then you shan’t object if I am present at all times during your interview with the prisoner,’ said Walker.
‘It would certainly make me feel safer,’ said Wolf flippantly.
Walker showed them into the custody suite at the back of the building, where the three other officers aware of the situation were waiting tensely. The chief inspector introduced Wolf and Finlay to each of them and then asked the officer standing guard to open the door to Rana’s cell.
‘We put him at the far end, as far away as we could manage from our other guests,’ Walker told them.
The door swung heavily to reveal an open mildewed toilet and the blue mattress and pillow, laid across a wooden bench, that made up the custody cell. Rana was sitting with his head in his hands, still wearing a water-stained anorak. The lock clicked loudly behind them as Walker slowly approached his prisoner.
‘Mr Rana, these two officers are in charge of—’
Rana looked up and as his bloodshot eyes settled on Wolf he leapt up from the bench and charged forward. Walker seized one of his arms as he passed and Finlay took hold of the other. They dragged him back over to the bench while he screamed:
‘You bastard! You bastard!’
The two experienced officers easily overpowered Rana, who was both short and heavily overweight. A few days’ worth of coarse stubble had grown unevenly across his overly large face. He seemed to deflate as he yielded and then started to weep into his pillow. Walker and Finlay cautiously released their grip as the man settled back down. Gradually, the atmosphere calmed.
‘My condolences about your brother,’ said Wolf with a smirk. Rana’s furious eyes fixed back on him. ‘He really was a piece of shit.’
‘You bastard!’ Rana screamed again as Walker and Finlay struggled to wrestle him back onto the bench.
‘Dammit, Will,’ complained Finlay after a stray knee connected with his groin.
‘Do that again, Fawkes,’ snapped Walker angrily, ‘and I won’t even try to stop him.’
Wolf raised an apologetic hand and took a few steps back to lean against the wall. Once Rana had calmed back down, Finlay explained the situation to him: how they had managed to keep news of his surrender contained to a select few, how they were awaiting instructions from Protected Persons, how he would be safe and had made the right decision by giving himself up. As per his training, once he had given Rana enough information to gain some trust, Finlay conversationally switched to his questioning. He asked whether Rana had known any of the other people on the list, names of anyone who may have wished him harm, any recent phone calls or incidents out of the ordinary.
‘May I ask you a couple of questions about your brother?’ asked Finlay, as politely as Wolf had ever heard him. He was tiptoeing around what they had clearly established to be Rana’s pressure point.