by Bill Rogers
‘So, you’re saying that God came to your protection?’
Mwamba spread his arms wide. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’ He turned to the crowd behind him. ‘Who else, if not the Lord?’
‘How about Greater Manchester Police or the National Crime Agency?’ said Jo. ‘Or, in your case, Mr Mwamba, Detective Constable Carly Whittle?’ She turned off the television and tossed the remote onto the sofa.
‘I never got the impression you were in it for public recognition?’ said Agata.
‘Fat chance, if I was,’ said Jo, slumping back into the cushions. ‘At times like this, I begin to wonder why I do the job at all.’
‘For the Françoises and the Melissas of this world. For that coroner, and for your colleague – what was her name . . . ?’
‘Sarah. Sarah Weston.’
‘. . . who were just doing their jobs. For the innocents in this world who would otherwise have no one to stand up for them. Come on Jo, sit yourself up.’
Agata placed her iPad on the table and switched it on.
‘Let’s have a look at some vacations? What do you fancy? A fly and flop? Somewhere nice and hot?’
‘Where did you have in mind?’ said Jo, who despite herself was warming to the idea.
‘This time of year, how about the Caribbean?’
Aggie entered it into the TripAdvisor search engine. ‘Here you go, this is a brilliant deal. All-inclusive. Montego Bay.’
Jo began to laugh.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Aggie.
‘Montego Bay? Are you kidding? And you an investigative reporter?’
‘I still don’t see . . .’
‘Montego Bay. Currently one of the places to avoid in Jamaica – a country with one of the highest murder rates per capita in the entire world? I didn’t think you meant a busman’s holiday!’
‘Alright then,’ said Aggie, ‘where do you suggest?’
Jo leaned forward, started tapping the screen and then sat back.
‘There you go,’ she said.
‘Iceland?’
‘Officially the safest country on earth.’
‘It’s hardly going to be hot.’
‘This is.’ Jo tapped again. ‘The Blue Lagoon,’ she announced. ‘Hot thermal springs. In-water massage. Silica mud masks. There’s even a bar in the middle so you don’t have to get out.’
‘When you put it like that,’ said Aggie. ‘Though it’s not the fly and flop I had in mind. More . . . flip-flop.’
That had the two of them howling with laughter. It went on and on, with such intensity that Jo feared she might never catch her breath again. It left her exhausted, but strangely at peace.
Aggie took her hand and drew Jo towards her. As Jo looked into those perfectly imperfect eyes, all the tension she’d been holding in her mind and body leached away, until all that was left was a certainty that this was the beginning of something special.
Afterword
When I handed over the manuscript of The Blow Out on February 21st 2018, little did I envisage that eleven days later, on March 4th, two Russian citizens would be subject to a devastating and wicked attack on British soil involving the nerve agent Novichok. Or that Porton Down, the Defence Science and Technology Laboratory, also part of Public Health England, would inevitably become involved. And that attention would consequently be drawn back to the ricin attack on Georgi Markov that formed a part of my research and is referenced in this novel. Then, while working on the copy-edit, it emerged that on May 25th French police had arrested two Egyptian-born brothers in Paris who were plotting an attack using either explosives or the lethal poison ricin!
I am not prescient. It’s simply that life, yet again, has proved stranger and far more troubling than fiction.
Bill Rogers
May 2018
Acknowledgments
In addition to all of my longstanding former police and forensics officers, special thanks go to Chris Rainford from the Lancashire Fire and Rescue Service for a special demonstration in drone flying, and for letting my granddaughter come along for the ride. The number of missing persons found, and in some cases rescued, just in time by Chris and those he has trained across the North West is growing apace. Given that Chris is often on call 24/7, finding time to fit us in on a Saturday morning was much appreciated. Also to golf professional David Screeton, who has been trying for over twenty years to tempt me to take up his offer of a free lesson on condition I start playing again – after fifty-three years – for his invaluable advice, and his willingness to become an anonymised character in The Blow Out. To Gareth Pardon, my personal trainer, and former Royal Marine Commando, for sharing his experience, and getting my writing arm back to full fitness after injury. And to former colleague and fellow Gooner David How, whose hard-won experience as a Krav Maga exponent and trainer proved invaluable to Jo.
As ever, everyone at Amazon Publishing UK and the Thomas & Mercer imprint has been unfailingly supportive, encouraging, and exceptionally professional. In particular, my editors Jack Butler and Russel McLean, and copy editor Monica Byles for their usual sensitive, empathetic, and insightful suggestions, as well as Hatty Stiles, Nora Dunne, Victoire Chevalier, Emily Meade, and Nicole Wagner, who effortlessly completed the package.
About the Author
Photo © 2015 Paul Whur
Bill Rogers is the author of ten earlier crime fiction novels featuring DCI Tom Caton and his team, set in and around Manchester. The first of these, The Cleansing, was shortlisted for the Long Barn Books Debut Novel Award and was awarded the e-Publishing Consortium Writers Award 2011. The Pick, The Spade and The Crow was the first in a new series featuring Senior Investigator Joanne Stuart, on secondment to the Behavioural Sciences Unit at the National Crime Agency, located on Salford Quays, Manchester. SI Jo Stuart first appeared as a promising junior member of Tom Caton’s team. Formerly a teacher and schools inspector, Bill has four generations of Metropolitan Police officers behind him. He is married with two adult children, four grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. He lives near Manchester.
