Four minutes.
Bolt accelerated, cutting inside to overtake the two cars in front before pulling back into the outside lane. He was making up ground fast but they were still way behind.
And then from inside their car they heard the sound of Andrea's mobile ringing, the mike on her blouse picking it up. They heard her say 'hello' and then the kidnapper's voice came on the line, faint but audible.
'Where are you?' he demanded, the voice warped by the suppressor.
'I'm just turning into Munroe Drive now.'
'Drive to the end. Stop outside number twenty on the left. There's a green Renault Scenic parked directly outside. In the driver's-side wheel arch, on top of the tyre, is a package. Pick it up and leave this phone in its place, making sure you switch it off. Then get back in your car and open the package. There'll be two items inside, one of which is another mobile phone. Turn it on, and you'll be called on it with further instructions. In the meantime, drive up to the North Circular and turn right, heading east.'
The line went dead.
'Christ, these guys aren't taking any chances, are they?' said Turner in the back.
Bolt shook his head angrily. 'The bastards know something. They must do.'
'How?' asked Mo. 'We've kept everything under wraps.'
'God knows. But they know. I'm sure of it.'
Tina's voice came over the airwaves, interrupting them. 'Car two to all cars. Target has stopped near bottom of Munroe Drive. She's picked up the package, and she's getting back in. She's turning round and coming back up Munroe Drive. Now turning left and heading back towards Finchley Road.'
'We'll take the eyeball,' said Bolt as he pulled over just before the entrance to Clearland Road, waiting for Andrea's Mercedes to emerge.
Seconds later, she pulled out of the junction, heading north, her driving even more erratic than it had been earlier.
'Car one to all cars,' announced Bolt, 'we're following the target north on Finchley Road, three cars back. She's driving fast. I can't get a good view, but it looks like she's on the phone. Her mike's not picking anything up so she can't be speaking.'
'Shit,' cursed Mo. 'What the hell's she doing?'
'Oh no,' said Bolt.
Barry's voice came over the radio, urgent. 'What's going on?'
'Target is opening the window and throwing something out.'
'That's her mike,' yelled Barry. 'And the tracker she's wearing.'
'She's just chucked something else out,' said Mo.
'I know!' Barry yelled. He sounded almost apoplectic now. 'It's the bloody trackers in the bag lining. How's she finding these things, and what on earth does she think she's doing?'
It was Bolt who answered the question. 'That package she just picked up. It doesn't just contain a phone, there's a bug finder in there as well. The bastards know we're on to them. That's what's happening.'
He couldn't believe it. The kidnappers had been tipped off. But by whom?
Forty-one
Andrea hit the North Circular at exactly 6.26 p.m. and proceeded east, driving fast. No longer able to hear what she was saying, the surveillance cars simply had to do their best to keep up, throwing all hopes of remaining inconspicuous out of the window. Not that that was such a priority now that it was obvious the kidnappers were assuming the police were involved.
In the control room, Big Barry Freud sounded as if he was fighting a losing battle to stay calm. As he sat grim-faced at the wheel of his car, conscious for the first time of the helicopter overhead, Bolt knew how he was feeling. This was no longer a surveillance job, it was a chase, and once again he cursed Andrea. He knew the kidnappers were telling her to get rid of anything which made it possible to trace the money, and knew too that they'd be lacing their instructions with murderous threats to ensure her obedience. Alone in the car with only her thoughts and fears for company, it would have been incredibly difficult for her to say no, but the fact remained, cold and hard, that her actions could also be costing her any chance of seeing Emma alive again. These guys were frighteningly ahead of the game. They were doing everything to make sure they got this money while at the same time minimizing their risk of getting caught. It would be a simple matter to put a knife through Emma's heart when they'd finished with her, just like they'd done to Andrea's cleaner. Bolt cursed himself, too, for going through with this charade. They should have gone the negotiation route from the start, laid their cards on the table, used trained people to get her back, instead of trying to come up with a sexy, headline-grabbing success story that was in danger of falling apart only minutes after it had started.
For twenty-four minutes Andrea drove along the North Circular. Traffic was busy but moving both ways, and though she continued to weave between lanes, there was never any danger that they were going to lose her. At 6.50, she turned on to the A10 going south, taking advantage of the lighter traffic to speed up.
'I can't understand why she's not trying to get rid of the trackers in the ransom money,' said Mo as they accelerated after her. 'They've obviously told her to remove anything that could trace them, and she seems to be cooperating.'
'Maybe she hasn't had a chance to look for them while she's driving,' answered Bolt.
'Or maybe she's only pretending to cooperate,' suggested Turner.
Bolt shook his head. 'No, she's definitely doing what they're telling her.' He took a deep breath. 'They're planning something,' he added quietly. 'God knows what. But they're planning something.'
Ten minutes later, Andrea turned again, this time into Lordship Lane, heading east into Tottenham. Then a strange thing happened. She slowed right down, managing barely fifteen miles per hour in the nearside lane. By this time Bolt and Mo were only twenty yards behind her.
'Car one to control,' said Bolt as he stared straight ahead.
Barry came back in the earpiece. 'Control receiving. What is it, car one?'
'Target driving very slowly. Now down to approximately fifteen miles an hour. Still looks to be on the phone. What do you want us to do? Over.'
'Stay behind her, car one. Just stay behind her. Important thing is not to lose her. Over.'
'Don't worry, there's no chance of that. We're more likely to crash into the back of her. Over.'
They were coming up to the junction with Tottenham High Road. Andrea slowed down still further and the lights went red.
Bolt stared out of the windscreen. To his right were Tina and Kris Obanje in the Toyota, while one of the motorbike outriders was flanking them. He couldn't see the helicopter any more but knew it wouldn't be far away. There was no way Andrea was going to get out of their sight, so he couldn't see how the kidnappers would be able to pull off getting hold of the money without being spotted. Yet these guys were pros. So far they hadn't made a single slip-up. They had something up their sleeves. He was sure of it.
The lights seemed to stay red for a long time. Bolt desperately wanted to get out of the car, walk up to Andrea's Mercedes and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, but he knew it would do no good. If they aborted the ransom drop now, their hopes of getting Emma back alive would diminish still further. They simply had to follow her.
He tried to second-guess the kidnappers. Clearly they suspected something was up. They'd originally tried to get Andrea to outrun the police, but had now changed tack, getting her to slow right down. Why? They were waiting for something. But what?
And then it hit him. 'Shit.'
Mo turned to him. 'What?'
'Are Tottenham playing today?'
The lights ahead went green, and the cars started pulling away.