Chapter Twenty One 

Lieutenant Oliver couldn't remember how he got through the next few minutes. He must have managed something that made sense because here he was, outside the police station, walking briskly along the street. He had absolutely no idea where he was going. 

He stopped in his tracks. It had been a shock. Eight long years had passed since he'd last heard that name spoken. He thought he'd made a quick enough recovery in front of Captain Spier, but ... He needed time to think, somewhere quiet, where he could battle with his conscience on his own. He looked around and saw a small cafe tucked away on the other side of the street. A few minutes later he was seated at a tiny table in the back with an unwanted cup of coffee in front of him, his eyes looking blankly into space as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts.  

All his training told him he should turn back, right now, and tell Captain Spier what he knew. He could trust her to act on the information appropriately, follow the correct procedures that would lead to the capture of the guilty and rescue of the innocent. That's what he had always believed, that following the law was the best way to tackle wrongdoing, not by going it alone, taking the law into your own hands, with the ends justifying the means.  

It was hard though. The more primitive part of his brain was screaming that he was the best man for this job and that he needed to act now, alone. He was the one who could track down the people who had Callan, or at the very least knew where he was, he was the one who was prepared to do whatever it would take to get him released.  

He knew he could find Callan faster than Captain Spier. Was that enough though, to go against his years of training, against the job he had sworn to uphold? After all, Captain Spier would find him eventually, would a few hours delay really matter? His thoughts went round and round. 

XXX 

Mo Khan was fuming. Cutter Levi was sitting opposite, silently watchful, waiting for the storm to pass over him. He had run through the gamut of disbelief and furious indignation when Khan had accused him of attempting to sabotage his operations, now it was up to Khan to decide whether or not he believed him. 

"It's a trick!" Levi had shouted. "One of Chang's tricks to mess with your head. You know I'm your man, I would never betray you!" 

Although shouting had made him feel better it didn't appear to be working on Khan. He had switched then to reasoning, making an effort to calm his voice. "Exactly how am I supposed to have got hold of the governor anyway? When have I been away from here long enough to organise something like that?"  

Khan didn't answer, just stood there with his arms crossed glaring at him. Levi started to get angry all over again, "What? Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you really think that if I had done something like that I would have been careless enough to link my name to it, so that the 'lice could track it back to me in less than a couple of hours?" 

He could see that he had finally struck a chord. Khan looked thoughtful for a moment, pursing his lips. Then he swore, loudly and fluently, before he calmed down enough to speak coherently. 

"You're right! It has to be Chang, or one of his men. What are the chances they've got the bastard stashed somewhere that points directly to me? I want every building searched, everywhere that I own or have a share in."  

Levi was on his wristcom giving orders before Khan finished talking. "What are you going to do when you find him?" he asked, as convinced as his boss, that Callan was somewhere in their territory. 

Khan smiled cruelly. "How easy do you think Chang will find it, explaining the presence of the governor's body, when it is found in one of his properties?"  

XXX 

Lieutenant Oliver pushed the cold cup of coffee across the table away from him and stood up. He had no choice. He had to stick to his principles and the sooner he told Captain Spier about his inside information, the sooner she could point her forces in the right direction. 

As he walked back to the station, his busy mind ran uncomfortably through the approaching scenario again. Naturally, even if she believed him immediately, the Captain would have to take time to check his story, then there would be more time while her team tried to track down Chang's men. He winced as he imagined the reaction uniformed officers would get from the back street inhabitants, most of whom would pretend ignorance as a matter of course, without even listening to the reasons behind the request. Unconsciously his footsteps slowed. 

It could take hours before they had anything concrete to go on, days even. He glanced down at his patrol uniform and made up his mind. Fuck it! He couldn't wait, he had to act now, Callan's safety was the most important thing.  

Working quickly, he located the nearest clothes store and left it dressed in faded jeans and a black teeshirt, his uniform folded in a bag under his arm. He slipped easily down one of the side streets and headed north, the route coming back to him as if he'd never been away. The door he was seeking was still the same faded brown, perhaps even more of the paint had peeled off since he had last seen it. He drew in a deep breath. Eight years. It was a long time. People moved away, died, would he even know the people who lived here now? 

He knocked softly. No-one drew unnecessary attention to themselves in this neighbourhood. His ears strained but he could hear nothing from the other side, he could only hope someone was there, watching him through a hidden viewer. Impatient, he was just preparing to knock again when the door opened to reveal an old man, bent over with age, his face small and withered like an apple but his eyes bright and snapping. He looked Oliver up and down for a moment in silence. "I thought it was you," he said. "What do you want?"