Melanie heard the growing rumble of the DAF's engine then saw the black cab and long articulated load travel out from behind a warehouse and pull up at the junction. Between her and the lorry was Peter in his own vehicle, a man dispossessed of his wife, angry and bemused and determined to mete out justice.
She held her breath as Lincoln's wagon turned on to the road and Peter's car crossed the central line to meet it.
The two vehicles were on a collision course. Only one man, Peter Warburton, knew why. He was going to stop that wagon no matter what the cost. He was going to prevent another woman falling into the hands of the Drivers. There would be no more Susans, no more Melanies.
In the wagon Lincoln's senses were slow to respond. He had seen the estate lurch into his path and was angry when the driver hadn't corrected his mistake, but the DAF was so much bigger the idiot would surely get out of his way.
But the estate kept coming, just a hundred, perhaps a hundred and fifty yards away.
Less than three hundred feet separated the two vehicles.
Two hundred feet. The wagon sounded its horn.
One hundred feet.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Lincoln pulled violently on the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to miss the speeding car while the watching Melanie could only scream. Her voice was drowned by the sound of steel scraping steel, flying sparks reflected orange and yellow and were hot in her eyes, forcing her to turn her head away, while the crash of exploding, splintering glass resounded in her ears.
At the sound of the wagon's horn she turned as the careering lorry bore down on her, its load seemingly detached from the engine, juggling this way and that behind, as if trying to get past and speed off from the scene.
There seemed no escape from the lurching mass of steel and canvas bearing through the smoke of a dozen screeching tyres, but miraculously the machine slowed and came to an even keel.
However, it did not stop. It could not stop, for the driver could not explain away his human cargo. He could only slow down to survey the devastation left in his wake and as he passed by Melanie's stomach lurched groundwards as the cold, knowing glare of Lincoln fell upon her for an instant.
With a roar of horse power the engine sped away, leaving her numbed and dazed at the roadside, unable to turn and look for fear of what she might see.
The trailer disappeared from sight, seemingly undamaged. All the glass and flying metal must have come from Peter's car. She was sick and weak at the knees, feeling only the need to sit at the kerb side and vomit. But there was to be no time for that because Peter's car came to a squealing halt at the end of four black lines of molten rubber.
"Get in!" he shouted. "In!"
Melanie ran round to the passenger seat, passing the caved in driver's side. Even before her door shut, Peter pulled off in pursuit, sending tiny squares of broken glass spilling from the dashboard to land on his shattered camera in the footwell. Some glass fell onto his lap and made their way beneath his legs but Peter chose to ignore the pain. At least until he made the corner and saw the DAF was nowhere to be seen.
At that point the road hit a roundabout and the lorry could have chosen any of the several routes. He tried the first turn off, but it was soon clear that he'd made a bad choice. All he could do now was make his way back to Melanie's flat and hope that the police might take an interest. Everything seemed lost until suddenly the CB barked,
"One four for a copy. Felix the Cat calling Shaggy. You out there Shag?"
Melanie reached out for the volume control. "That's Lincoln calling his brother!"
"Felix calling Shaggy. Come back little brother." A moment later the radio crackled with the voice of Lincoln's brother.
"What's up? You only just started and you're already calling me up. Don't you know what to do with a Chinky slit?"
Melanie couldn't help but shudder at the sound of their voices, especially Colin's, who was always sarcastic and smug.
When they had had her in their clutches, he was the one who liked to tie her up in the back of the container and hang her from the roof. Colin got his kicks from sheer cruelty. He would whip her bottom with the canvas straps or use his thick leather belt to raise burning welts upon her skin. Very often he would leave her up there and they would carry on their journey with her dangling in the back of the lorry, passing cars and vans whose drivers had no inkling of the tortured cargo.
Now his mocking voice crackled out again.
"Remember to have a sixty nine for me. And I don't mean a crispy duck with noodles. Perhaps a Chinky fuck, hey!"
His brother was not amused. "Shut up man, for fuck's sake. Something weird just happened. Some twat in a car tried to hit me off the road outside the yard, and there's something else -
"Do you want me to come out?" Colin cut in impatiently.
Lincoln gave a thoughtful sigh. "I'm alright," he replied. "But I'd better get rid of Suzy Wong. Just in case."
"What you going to do?" Colin asked. "You can't just dump her."
"I've got a few drops to make then I'm off up to Wettle. The Paddies are over for the horse fair so I'll flog her off then. Keep your eyes open. I think someone's onto us."
"Give her one for me before she goes," said Colin, then as an after thought added. "You know, I knew it was bad luck when you had that married bint off the Candy Man. Bad news, she was. Even Bingo had to dump her, up in Whitby. He only had her a couple of weeks and the law were after him for nicking some gear."
"Well she's long gone now," Lincoln put in. "See you at the horse fair."
With a pleasant 'plink', another shard of glass was added to the small pile of blood spattered slivers in the ash tray.
"You know?" said Melanie, pulling another piece from Peter's backside. "You were lucky none of this went in your face, you could have been blinded." She took the remnants of the car window to the dustbin and returned with a bottle of antiseptic while Peter remained half bent across the chair, his backside looking like an explosion in a butchers shop.
"I'm supposed to say this won't hurt," she said. "But I'd be lying."
His arse cheeks clenched tight in a brave effort to avoid the stinging solution, but she applied it liberally wherever there was a cut, which was everywhere.
"You know what?" Peter said through gritted teeth. "I just can't believe the law are not interested. How on earth can they say they don't like to get involved in traffic accidents? What is their job if they don't get involved with anything?" He followed her out to the kitchen where she was putting the kettle on. "And that poor girl," he added, then with a sarcastic tone he mimicked the voice of the officer he had told. "If we arrested every lorry driver with a young girl in his cab, sir, we wouldn't have any lorries left on the road. Now would we?"
He took the tea Melanie offered and drank it standing up, while she enjoyed the ubiquitous cigarette with hers.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked.
"I'll have to try and track down this Bingo. He's obviously the next link."
She stubbed out the cigarette only to light another straight away and take her first luxurious drag. "But she's not with him any more. That's what Lincoln's brother said."
"I know," answered Peter. "But I've got to do something. If I can track him down I'll be able to find out who he hangs out with. At least now I know she's somewhere near Whitby. I'll just have to take it from there."
"When will you leave?"
"Now, tonight."
There was no mistaking the disappointment Melanie felt at his announced departure. Putting a brave face on it she declared she was going to cook him a meal before he left.
"You don't want to be doing that now," said Peter. "Why don't I grab us something from the Chinese?"