Mercs nodded his agreement. ‘There’d be no time for them to set up covert surveillance. That’s what’s needed.’
God, she thought, was there no solution? She turned to him. ‘We could do it.’
‘Who?’
‘You and me. Two cars and two mobiles.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Why not, Eddie?’
‘It’s fucking dangerous for one thing.’
‘If no one follows, no one will know where Tom is. Or his wife and son if those bastards decide not to release them. We’ve got to, Eddie, don’t you see?’
He frowned and puckered his lips. ‘It could be a good way to get Tom killed. If they know we are following… I know something about this sort of work. I did this report on undercover police units once. You use at least four vehicles. Form a box, they call it. One vehicle takes over from another, then if the quarry stops suddenly, you drive past and another takes up the tail.’
‘That’s not so difficult.’
‘Motorcycles are good. Don’t get stuck in traffic and can go anywhere.’
‘Hal,’ she said. ‘Is Hal in? I thought I saw him a few minutes ago.’
Mercs stared at her. ‘Casey, this is bloody lunacy.’
Harrison drove out of Vauxhall Barracks in a daze. Traffic registered, but it was in a kind of blur, his driving purely reflex and automatic, his mind trawling over the implications of what had happened. Trying desperately to inject some logic into what action he should take.
Time and again he went over what he had told Casey. That the release of Archie and Pippa was paramount, his own safety secondary. He’d used the same criteria for his decision to avoid police involvement at too short notice. Even he was panicking that he wouldn’t make the rendezvous on time; he could imagine the chaos as the police tried to locate expert covert forces and deploy them to the scene against the clock. Yet despite that, Casey’s warning echoed in his head: no one would know where he or his family were.
It was like evaluating a bomb threat, weighing the odds and probabilities, but never being absolutely certain…
At first he’d been hostile to Casey’s suggestion that they meet somewhere on the road, but as he made good time down the A34, crossed under the M4 and proceeded through the town of New bury, he began to welcome the thought of a few minutes with her. It might be the last they ever spent together.
She had kept in touch by mobile, her progress unbelievably quick. Thankfully the Standards offices in Kensington High Street were on the direct urban artery that fed into the M4 motorway. Even so she had some forty-seven miles to cover in order to reach Newbury. It would be touch and go whether or not she would make it.
He had just pulled into the village of Hamstead Marshall, a mere three miles from Inkpen, when she came through again.
‘I’ve got us another fifteen minutes,’ she said breathlessly. ‘When he called through for your mobile number and your car registration, I said you’d been caught up in heavy traffic’
‘You took a risk.’ He was angry that she’d done it, relieved that she had succeeded. ‘Where are you now?’
‘Getting lost in Newbury — no, it’s okay. I need both hands in these country lanes now. I’ll be with you in minutes.’
He put down the receiver and lay back in his seat, shutting his eyes. His heart was pounding. Keep calm, he told himself, keep calm.
The mobile bleeped. He opened his eyes and stared at it. There was little doubt who it would be. Suddenly that small comforting piece of plastic was transformed into something altogether evil and contaminated.
Slowly he reached out. ‘Harrison.’
‘Where are you?’ The accent was harsh Ulster, full of scarcely suppressed venom. % ‘Newbury,’ he lied. ‘I’m stuck at traffic lights.’
‘Don’t fuck me around.’
‘I’m not. I’ll make it.’
‘That’s right. Listen.’ There was a buzz and a whir, the tinny voice of a child, a boy. The reassuring tones of Pippa, her words calm but threatening to break up in hysteria.
‘Turn it off,’ Harrison snapped. ‘I believe you. I’ll be there.’
‘Inkpen in twenty minutes or I phone the order.’ The man had hung up.
Rage boiled over. He pounded his fist on the wheel, yelled at his own reflection in the mirror. ‘BASTARD!!’
He threw open his door, stepped out into the lay-by, gulping down draughts of fresh air, his entire body trembling.
Casey rounded the bend then, the Mini Cooper in a four-wheel drift, tyres screeching and headlamps blazing even though it was still daylight. The vehicle slid behind his and her long legs appeared out of the door. Before he knew it, she was in his arms, her tears hot against his cheek. ‘God, Tom, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe this is happening.’
He eased her away. There was so little time. ‘Listen, I’ll tell them to contact you about the release of Pippa and Archie. That way you’ll be the first to know.’
‘When do you think they’ll let them go?’
‘It should be immediate, but I suppose I should allow twelve hours or so for unexpected eventualities.’ He didn’t really want to dwell on the negative aspect.
‘And if I haven’t heard then, do I call the police?’
He shook his head. ‘Contact Don. He’ll know the right buttons to push. If anyone comes busting in, I want it to be the SAS, not some local police firearms unit.’
She wondered again whether to tell him what she intended to do, but feared he would reject the idea. And she understood all too clearly why he might. But while she shared his desperate concern over Archie and Pippa, the safety of Harrison himself was even more important to her.
‘I must go now.’
‘Yes.’ She kissed him hard on the lips. ‘I love you.’
He pulled away then and walked back to his car. She watched him drive away, the memory of the exhausted and haunted expression in his eyes, she knew, would be etched in her mind for ever.
As his car disappeared from view, the first motorcycle came along the road from the other direction and swung in.
Hal Hoskins steadied himself and flipped up his visor. ‘Hi, Case, am I in time?’ ‘Just,’ she replied with relief, ‘Tom’s just gone.’
At that moment the second motorcycle appeared, ridden by a friend of Hal’s, ‘Bodger’, who was another photographer.
‘I’ll work with you,’ Hal told her, ‘and Bodge will form a second team with Eddie.’ He punched the single digit code into his mobile and almost immediately Mercs answered. ‘Where are you, Eddie?’
‘Just past a place called Crockham Heath. Can’t be more than minutes away. Sorry I’m late — took a wrong turn.’
Hal looked at Casey and grinned. ‘Let’s go. Bodge will wait here for Eddie. We can move up to Inkpen, and then I’ll follow your instructions.’
Instructions, that was a joke. ‘I’m so grateful, Hal. But whatever you do, don’t get too close. Those people will be armed.’ She climbed back into her car. ‘Keep behind me unless I lose Tom, then overtake. If Tom or whoever pulls over suddenly and I have to go past, you stop — well back — and get ready to take up the chase. If you lose both of us, stop immediately and get on the mobile.’
Hal appeared to be treating the whole thing as a game. ‘Roger, Ten Four,’ he said and gave her the thumbs-up sign.
She started the engine and turned the Mini Cooper onto the Inkpen road. Her hands were shaking. With full radio communications they might have been in with a chance. But reduced to using mobiles, which meant Hal and Bodger had to stop in order to speak or take a message, the omens were not good. Over the telephone on their separate drives down from London, she and Eddie had discussed the best method of operating. But she doubted now that it would be good enough. And if it wasn’t, then Harrison could very well end up dead.