Jack hadn’t taken it because it contained a huge amount of money; he’d taken it because the world was wrong in the way it worked. The legal system would take this money and put it on a shelf in a police evidence room for the next God-knows-how-many years. It would probably never be needed as evidence, because they’d nailed everyone on so much else. And when the cash was finally released, it couldn’t be used as victim compensation, because they would all have received their insurance pay-outs. It’d either be returned to the bank to be destroyed or end up in the Met’s bank account and fed back into police services. Jack couldn’t see the justice in any of those options when there were so many people in the world, who worked all the hours that God sent painting other people’s nurseries, and still couldn’t earn enough money to keep their own baby alive.

Life was unfair, and although Ridley would never bend the rules to put any of that right, Jack would. Life was not about settling for the firm handshake and a warm feeling inside; and it certainly wasn’t about sitting back and waiting for your reward in heaven. Jack wanted his rewards now. But only the ones he’d earned.

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

As Jack was pushed swiftly down the hospital corridor, the wheelchair pulled naturally to the left, and he could feel the paramedic pulling on the right handle and pushing on the left one, just to keep the decrepit heap of junk in a straight line. This twisting motion moved Jack in his seat and made him feel even sicker than he did already, as did the bump and click on each rotation of the back wheel, while strip-lights on the ceiling were so bright that Jack kept his eyes almost closed, just to cope with the pain inside his head.

He tried to ignore it by listening to Ridley’s handover to the ED doctor.

‘He was hit in the head with a crowbar about five hours ago. He was checked by paramedics who said he had concussion and they couldn’t rule out a fracture. Then he jumped in a helicopter and flew to London where he was in a physical, one-on-one confrontation with a suspect that resulted in his head injury re-opening, a stab wound to his forearm and, well, I don’t know what else.’

Jack couldn’t see the doctor’s face, but he heard his heavy sigh.