Page 132 of Better the Devil

‘That’s the plan,’ Dave said. ‘Uniform’s heading round now.’

‘Good stuff.’

Ben let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He’d forgotten how nice it was to be able to breathe, and now that he wasregaining the ability, he could feel something almost euphoric coming over him.

‘Aye, but, with this happening. Bosco. I’m not sure there’ll be anyone around to talk to her.’

Ben lifted a hand and waved it, like he was batting away an insect. ‘S’fine,’ he said, his voice slurring. ‘Won’t be the first time Bosco Maximuke’s been kicked around. He’ll be grand.’

The former DI’s voice became soft. Became slow. He yawned.

‘The important thing to remember, son, is…’

The rest of the sentence fell away into silence.

Swaddled in his oversized coat, and wedged between the arms of the chair, Ben Forde drifted off to sleep.

‘Whatda—?’

Ben jumped awake to find Logan standing over him, jiggling the chair with a foot.

‘I had to shut you up,’ Jack told him. ‘Your snoring was annoying the guys in B&Q along the street.’

Ben pushed himself up from where he’d started to slip further down in the chair.

‘My arse. I don’t snore.’

‘Don’t snore?’ Logan cried. ‘It was like a fucking chainsaw singingBlack Sabbath.’

Ben held a hand out for Logan to help him up, but the DCI hesitated.

‘You should just stay sitting where you are.’

‘Shut it, and help me up,’ Ben urged, jiggling his arm around for emphasis.

Logan took the hand and pulled. The chair was clamped onto Ben like a limpet, though, and started to come with him untilLogan pinned it beneath a foot and Ben was pulled from its armrest jaws.

‘Bloody coat,’ the ex-DI muttered.

He looked around, then over at the window, like he was expecting it to be a brand new day. The only light outside came from the lampposts and passing car headlights, and the twinkling glow of the city.

‘How long was I asleep for?’

‘About forty minutes,’ Dave told him.

He presented a cup of tea and a plate of stale-looking plain biscuits. Ben made no attempt to hide his disappointment at the paltry haul of Digestives and Rich Teas, but took them anyway.

‘What’s happening, then? Any sign of Bosco?’

Logan shook his head and told him that no, as of yet, they had no idea where Bosco Maximuke had gone, or who had taken him. Extra CCTV staff had been drafted in to run through footage of the cameras all across the city, in an attempt to track the van, or at least get a number plate.

There was no word as of yet, but the search was in capable hands. Just as well, too.

‘Eleanor Belov’s downstairs,’ Logan revealed. ‘She’s agreed to be interviewed, and to give fingerprints. They’re doing the print scans now, then Palmer’s team can pull them off the database and compare with the bag. She’s also agreed to give us the address of her Bitcoin wallet.’

Ben grimaced, and plucked a HobNob from the plate. There was a lone Ginger Nut beside it, but he gave that one a wide berth.

‘I was with you up until the end bit,’ he said. ‘Wallet address. Does that no’ mean you can just take all her money? If so, I’ll keep quiet about it if you give me half.’