Thomas Walter’s directions had come through on his phone and now he called up the map application. It was approximately one hour since Walter had called him and given the route Walter had supplied, he estimated if he drove at between 90 and 100mph for the majority of the motorway journey, he could join the A40 before Oxford, coming off the M40 at Bicester, and he wouldn’t be too far behind them.
Chapter 22
‘When we get to London,’ Clark told the others, ‘we’ll probably be separated at first. Robert Mann will want a debrief and will probably want to interview each of us in turn.’
‘And after that?’ Scott asked.
Clark shrugged. ‘For you guys: a new identity, a new place to live.’
Katherine said, ‘What about you?’
Another shrug. ‘I’ll get a dressing down and probably asked to leave. I’m already on suspension. It’s the next appropriate step.’
‘What will you do?’ Scott asked.
‘I have a box full of books I’ve been putting off reading for years,’ Clark said.
‘And we’ll never see you again,’ Katherine said.
Clark looked at her. ‘No.’
Rhodes, taking a break from his phone for a moment, said, ‘Forced early retirement. You should be happy.’
Clark looked back at him. ‘Sounds ideal, doesn’t it?’ Their voices were edged with sarcasm.
‘But it’s not fair,’ Scott said. ‘You were doing what you thought was right.’
‘Doesn’t make it right,’ Clark said. ‘Just because you think it’s right, doesn’t mean others will agree.’
‘You were trying to save our lives. This whole mess we’re in now, this is my fault not yours.’
‘Kane, please. We’ve already done the blame game before we left. It is what it is.’
Scott folded his arms. ‘But it shouldn’t be.’ He didn’t care what name she called him any more.
Walter was on the phone to his contact in Leeds and, in the back, Lucia was gurgling and flapping her fingers. María was finding it difficult to concentrate. She had never developed a love of the British motorway system, and her eyes were alternating from watching the blur of the white lane markings sweep by on both sides of them, and trying to scan the vehicles on the opposite carriageway for signs of a UPS van.
Getting quickly onto the southbound lanes would be a problem if she spotted their target; she couldn’t risk ploughing through the central barrier, not with Lucia in the back. Besides, their van would likely crumple rather than break heroically through to the other side like some Hollywood movie.
She glanced at Thomas Walter in the passenger seat beside her. ‘Where are they?’
Walter held his hand up to silence her as he listened to his contact on the phone. ‘Uh-huh. Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’ He ended the call and put his phone on the dash. ‘Their driver last checked in less than 10 minutes ago and they were on the M40 at Banbury.’ He reached for the road atlas and flicked through it until he found the relevant page. He scanned the motorway with his fingertip. ‘If we can pull off the M40 at Junction 9 and get to the other side of the road, we can probably wait for them there.’
María nodded. They were already on the M40 and a sign informed her that Junction 7 was half a mile away. In five or six minutes, they would be southbound.
From the front of the van, the driver gave a quick shout. Rhodes was on his feet and at the front by the driver in two strides. Clark stood behind him.
‘What is it?’ Rhodes asked.
Mick glanced in his wing mirror. ‘Got this idiot coming up fast behind us. Too fast,’ he said. ‘Could be nothing. Could be something.’
Rhodes slipped through into the front and adjusted the wing mirror on the passenger side so that he could see the road behind him. ‘White Transit,’ he said. ‘Jesus, he must be pushing a tonne.’
‘How far away?’ Clark asked.
‘Not far away enough,’ Rhodes said.
‘What should we do?’ Mick asked.
‘Peddle this fucking thing a little faster.’ Rhodes pushed through into the back of the van again and dug in his bag for a gun. He released the safety, cocked it, and looked at Clark. Butt-first, he held it out for her. ‘I’m not giving you this, okay? I’m not going to lose my job as well.’
She took it. ‘Understood.’
‘Are we in danger?’ Katherine asked.
‘Not yet,’ Rhodes said. He pulled another gun from his bag.
‘He’s still gaining,’ Mick shouted.
John stood up. ‘Don’t we get guns?’
‘Not on your life,’ Rhodes said. ‘Sit down. I’m not letting a civilian take pot-shots at my head.’
Clark had moved forward and was looking in the wing mirror. ‘I can’t see through his windscreen, but I’m damn sure it’s Fernandez.’
‘Does he act alone?’ Rhodes called.
Mick tapped the brakes and everyone shunted forward. ‘Hang on to something,’ Mick said. He spun the wheel, cut the hard shoulder as he passed a little blue Ford Ka, and ripped into the exit slip. The van was right behind them, ploughing road dust into the air as it screeched into the turn.
The winding road ahead meant that they couldn’t build up speed. Each new corner had Mick touching the brakes and accelerating on the way out.
Rhodes was on his phone. ‘I’m sending coordinates. Urgent assistance required.’ As he hung up and pushed their GPS coordinates to the Interpol officer he’d been talking to, he said, ‘I think we’re in no doubt as to who it is now.’
Clark said, ‘It’s definitely not just some white-van man late for work. What’s the plan?’
Rhodes grinned. ‘Stay alive.’
‘Works for me.’ Her heart rate had elevated and she could sense a slight tingle in her fingertips, the inbuilt adrenaline-fuelled thrill of the chase that all successful cops possessed.
‘We have a shooter,’ Mick shouted. In the wing mirror, he could see an arm extending from the driver’s side of the white van, gun in hand. A shot ricocheted off the rear door.
‘Everyone down,’ Rhodes said. ‘Under the seats.’
‘I can’t get down there,’ Katherine said.
‘Get down as far as you can,’ Clark told her.
Scott was on his feet. ‘Let me help.’
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ Rhodes said. ‘Everyone down.’
When they had complied, Clark stood beside Rhodes at the back of the van, gun steady in both hands.
‘It’s like target practice,’ Rhodes said. ‘Only with an angry, moving target that’s shooting back at you. Ready?’
She nodded and Rhodes punched open the door. They ducked behind the rear row of seats and fired.
Outside, the white van was trying to overtake them, gunning up the oncoming lane, and it pulled level with Mick.
‘Fucking idiot,’ Mick shouted.
They took a corner together. Thankfully there was no traffic coming towards them.
Rhodes took a side-shot at the van and blew out their rear tyre as it veered in towards their van. He’d seen a woman driving and a fat man beside her, but he couldn’t be sure if there were any more men in the back. Mick alternated on the brakes and the accelerator and pulled out of the way, but he clipped the kerb and the vehicle bounced as the white van fell behind them and swerved, sending sparks into the air as the blown tyre tore away and the wheel grated on the road surface.
Despite the blown tyre, the woman was still powering after them, spinning out into the opposite lane. She took another sideswipe at their vehicle and once again they bounced on the kerb. Mick tried to hold the van steady, twisting into the feel of it, but a third clip from the woman and he had to swing back to avoid a lamppost. Their van took to two wheels and as it started going over, the woman slapped her brakes and dropped back out of the way.
As they toppled, Rhodes fell into Clark and the van crashed to its side and skimmed the road.
María punched the brakes and felt her seatbel
t draw tight over her shoulder. Walter slumped forward and grappled for his phone as it slid across the dashboard and dropped to the footwell beneath him, and Lucia’s wheelchair, its brakes secured, shunted forward an inch and rocked.
María picked up her SR22 from between her thigh and the seat, and said, ‘Call Fernandez. Get him here now.’
She unclipped her seatbelt and watched as the UPS delivery van in front of them went over on its offside wheels, the axles giving under the pressure and the wheels buckling inwards, and she heard the grate of metal on tarmac as it took to its side and continued along the road of its own volition.
Walter was doubled over, scrabbling between his feet for his phone and, when he rose, his face was red from the effort. His fat and sweaty fingers swiped the screen several times before he could unlock it.
María turned to Lucia and touched her knee. ‘You’re okay,’ she said. ‘Mama has to go to work now.’
‘Mama,’ Lucia responded.
María turned back and faced forward. The UPS van had come to a halt and a silence fell down on the thirty foot distance between them.
On the phone, Walter said, ‘Junction 8, M40. I don’t know where we are exactly, but we came off the motorway three minutes ago and took an immediate left. Where are you?’
As the van was going over, Scott felt Jesse slide into him, then as they came down, Katherine had slammed down on top of them, the air expunging from her lungs in a forceful gasp. He pushed up on them, trying to move himself, and said, ‘Are you okay? Are you okay?’
‘I can’t move,’ Katherine said. ‘Think my leg’s caught.’
‘Jesse? Can you move?’
Jesse groaned. The full weight of Katherine, slight as she was, had hit him hard. ‘I’m fine. I think.’
Scott shook his head. ‘Clark? You there?’
Someone fired a gun; he wasn’t sure who, but the sound of it echoed in his head. It was a sound at once familiar and alien to him.
John climbed over the seat and took hold of Katherine. ‘Her leg’s trapped around one of the seat struts,’ he said. He felt his way underneath her, gripped her foot and extracted her leg from under the seat. Katherine winced in pain.
‘What’s she doing?’ Rhodes asked.
As the others managed to crawl out from the seats and get to their feet, standing on the inside wall of the toppled van, Scott could see the woman standing on the tarmac beside her vehicle, watching them.
She had a gun in each of her hands, but they were held loosely at her sides.
‘Why doesn’t she fire at us?’ John said.
‘Why aren’t we firing at her?’ Jesse retorted.
‘Is she taunting us?’ Clark asked. ‘And where the fuck is Fernandez in all of this?’
‘Shoot her,’ Jesse said.
The woman sent a single shot their way and Clark and Rhodes opened fire on her. She ran for cover beside the white van and Rhodes said, ‘If everyone can walk, I want you all out now. Keep left and run fast. Go, go, go!’
Scott pushed Jesse in front of him and took hold of Katherine. He looked at John. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine. Let’s go.’
They slipped out of the van. Rhodes and Clark continued to fire round after round, pinging the white van and shattering the front windscreen. They heard the woman shouting what sounded like a name, like Lucy, and saw the man in the passenger seat duck out of the way.
If they could get a head start, Scott thought, at least they won’t be followed in vehicles. With everyone on foot, there was no unfair advantage.
He held Katherine up. She was walking with a limp. As they rounded the overturned van, Jesse was coming back towards them. His eyes were red and puffy.
Over the sound of the shooting, Scott asked, ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Jesse said.
‘We have to keep moving,’ Scott said.
‘Let me help,’ Jesse put his arm around Katherine’s waist and as they ran forward, Katherine pointed back to the van.
‘I think Mick’s dead,’ she said.
They stopped and looked back. Mick had come through the windscreen and his hair was matted in blood. He wasn’t moving.
‘Let’s go,’ Scott said. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’
Chapter 23
‘How do we do this?’ Clark asked.
Rhodes fired another shot and they ducked as the woman retaliated. As she slipped back inside her van, Rhodes said, ‘Make a run for it. Follow the guys and get them to safety. I’ll hold her off as long as I can.’ He fished in his bag for a fresh clip.
‘Are you trying to be a hero?’ Clark asked.
‘I’ve trying to save lives. If there are any more of those bastards out there, your friends are already open and exposed. They’ll wander around the streets like lemmings until they’re picked off one by one. Go.’
Clark weighed the decision in her mind—it always came down to a fight-or-flight response. Life, she figured, is always fight or flight. She took another shot at the white van.
She stepped out of the UPS van just as the woman re-emerged. In her hands was what looked like a semi-automatic rifle. Clark rounded the van as she opened fire and, as she ran, she heard an unmistakeable grunt from Rhodes followed quickly by the slap of shoes on the ground.
Clark kept her speed up, heading forward, no idea where the others had gone or if they’d walked straight into a pocket of Fernandez’s men ahead of them. Looking back over her shoulder, the woman stood by the UPS van and shot point-blank at Rhodes.
She couldn’t fire a shot off here, not with a few houses on either side of her. She stared ahead, thought she saw a glimpse of the others, and she ran.
By the time they had caught up with John, Scott and Jesse were panting and sweating. Katherine begged to be allowed to walk on her own, promised her ankle was fine, and when they thought they were far enough away and didn’t hear anyone coming behind them, they released their hold of her and she tested her left leg gingerly.
Scott looked around. He knew they were close to Oxford before that crazy woman had derailed them, but he didn’t have a clue where they actually were. They had come around onto what looked like an industrial area with single-storey warehouses aligned on either side.
‘What do we do?’ John asked. He had an air of confidence about him that surprised Scott. Perhaps the guise of Daphne was more of an emotional mask than he had considered, granting him a lockbox for his fears, but whatever it was, John was ready to fight.
‘We have no weapons,’ Scott said. He turned to Katherine.
She was wheezing and rubbing her thigh and her skin was tight and thin, blue veins tracing a map over her forehead and hands.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Let’s keep moving.’
Jesse said, ‘Where to? We’re lost.’
‘We need to hole up somewhere and wait for Ann and that Rhodes guy.’
‘Did you see Mick’s face?’ Katherine asked. Her eyes were cloudy.
‘We don’t have much time,’ John said. ‘We need to decide what to do.’
‘Call the police?’ Jesse asked.
‘Jesus!’ Scott said, as though the idea had never struck him before. He took Jesse’s head in his hands and he kissed him. Then he reached in his pocket for his phone. But it wasn’t there. ‘It must’ve fallen out in the van when we toppled.’
Jesse pulled out his own phone. ‘Advantages of tight jeans,’ he said. He handed it to Scott.
As Scott dialled 999, they started fast-walking into the industrial estate. ‘Find a street sign or something,’ he said. ‘Hello? Police, please. Yes, it’s an emergency. We’re being shot at!’
He looked behind him as a figure rounded the corner of a building. He saw the glint of a gun and panicked before he realised it was Ann Clark.
‘You fool,’ María said. Thomas Walter was still in his seat in the van. His eyes were wide and staring at the toppled van before them. His fa
t fists were pressing against the dashboard and she could see beads of sweat running along his temples.
‘Walter,’ she said, but he made no response. ‘Walter, look at me.’
Thomas Walter looked at her, cocked his head without recognition.
‘Get out of the van and help me,’ María said. She watched as Walter looked at his seatbelt, still buckled, and his shaking fingers fought for the release button.
‘This is not good,’ Walter said. ‘Not good.’
‘Help me get Lucia out of the back.’
Walter stepped out of the van, stumbled on weak legs and fell to the ground. María came round and helped him back to his feet. ‘Not good,’ Walter repeated.
‘Pull yourself together,’ María said. ‘You have to help me with Lucia.’ Lucia was a priority; the others could wait. She cursed Dr Roth and his hospice for not having an available bed. She opened the back of the van and climbed in, soothing Lucia as she released the brakes from the back wheels of the wheelchair. The bullet that shattered their windscreen had punched a hole in the side of their van less than a foot from Lucia’s right shoulder.
With Walter’s reluctant help, they carried her down from the van and María adjusted the straps on the chair that kept her daughter upright.
Lucia chewed her fist.
‘Take her,’ María said.
‘What?’
‘I can’t take her with me.’ María held up the M16 for illustration. ‘This is not a stroll in the park.’
‘What am I supposed to do with her?’ The look on his face was one of disgust.
In a single motion, María pulled the small Ruger handgun from under her waistband and flashed the barrel in his face, the M16 held down by her side. ‘Keep her safe,’ she said. ‘Get her out of here and I’ll call you when I’m done.’
‘How am I going to get out of here?’
She turned the wheelchair so that the handles were in front of Walter. ‘Take her,’ she reiterated, and Walter gripped the handles.
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