‘And do they plan to press charges?Can we expect to seemoreof you, Helen?’Holmes gloated.
‘I very much doubt it.In fact, I rather think Rachel Firth might be about to get the chop.’
Holmes narrowed her eyes, the thought of anyone prominent and high-profile being sacked clearly unsettling for her.
‘Given that, I think it might be best for everyone if I’m bailed and on my way.’
‘Well, of course that would be the sensible thing to do,’ Holmes responded swiftly.‘And personally I would like nothing better than to see you out of this tiny, malodorous box …’
Holmes cast an eye over the faded yellow brickwork, whichwas almost obliterated by graffiti, her nose wrinkling as she continued:
‘But we do have rather a backlog at the custody desk at the moment, some kind of fight in the city centre, I believe.Lots of arrests, lots of paperwork …’
Helen didn’t believe a word – the custody area had beendeadwhen she was brought in – but she said nothing, determined not to give her former boss the satisfaction.
‘So I suspect you’ll just have to sit tight for the moment.Dotryand make yourself comfortable.’
She offered a warm, maternal smile, which wasn’t returned.Amused by Helen’s cold stare, her patent hostility, Holmes turned to leave, pausing only once she’d reached the doorway.Looking back, she added:
‘I must say, Helen, I am impressed by your ingenuity.The things you do to get back inside Southampton Central …’
And with that, she was gone, slamming the iron door shut behind her.
Chapter 71
Emilia hurried away from the Westquay, marching fast towards her battered Corsa.After the Dutchman had left their meeting, she’d remained in position for a full twenty minutes, checking out the other occupants of the café, keeping a beady eye out for hired thugs blocking her route to the lift or escalator, but the scene in front of her seemed utterly unremarkable.Nattering friends, boisterous families and the odd pensioner eking out a pot of tea.Peaceful, workaday and completely unthreatening.
Still, Emilia had kept her wits about her as she hurried down the escalator and along the concourse, using the tall shop windows to check for any signs of pursuit.Reaching the main entrance, she’d finally reduced her pace, casting one searching look back along the main concourse.Satisfied she wasn’t being followed, she rose and departed.
There was no logical reason why she should be in danger – her nemesis had his gold – and yet Emilia was determined to take no chances.Could you apply logic to vicious thugs who threw acid in young girls’ faces?Would her power over him have aggravated the seasoned Dutch smuggler?Would he have raged internally as a woman quizzed him over his actions, his morals, his soul?
On the flip side, if he was only interested in money, Emiliawanted to give him plenty of time to get well clear of the Westquay.She had no idea of the provenance of that gold and if for any reason her nemesis was stopped by security guards or a passing police officer, curious to know what was inside the tatty holdall, she wanted to be well clear of the whole thing.She was done with the gold and, in truth, she was done with her dad too.
The same could not be said of her Dutch friend.She had meant every word when she warned him that their story wasn’t over, which is why she needed to exercise extreme caution now.If he sensed that he’d been tricked, then the consequences for her could be dire, which is why she kept a close eye on those around her as she scurried down the street.She avoided passing vans or trucks, anything she might be bundled into, and crossed the road to avoid a couple of shaven-headed louts who approached at speed.Happily, they sailed by and speeding up, Emilia swiftly made it to her Corsa.Only once she was inside, with the doors safely locked, did she breathe a sigh of relief.
Her body was still tense, however, as the moment of truth was now upon her.Plucking her phone from her pocket, she swiped swiftly to her tracking App.Her nemesis was no fool and would presumably have transferred the gold to another bag as soon as possible, the holdall being the most obvious place for Emilia to conceal a tracking device.Which is why she had decided on a bolder strategy.Grabbing the Dutchman by the lapels had been fun for the shock factor alone, his face a picture of surprise and anger, but her actions had concealed a darker purpose.Grasping his jacket, she had taken the opportunity to attach a tiny tracking pin to the underside of his collar, only releasing the surprised trafficker once she was sure it was firmly attached.But was it transmitting?Had her wild plan actuallyworked?
The app now provided the answer, the flashing blue circle on her screen moving steadily east, as her enemy raced fromthe city.Emilia let out a bark of triumph, her body pulsing with adrenaline.Letting his love of money override the need for caution, he had walked into the trap and swallowed the bait.
Hook, line and sinker.
Chapter 72
The door flew open, flooding the cramped cell with light.Alarmed, Helen looked up, expecting more aggravation – a sarcastic custody officer, the gloating Holmes again – but was surprised to see Charlie filling the doorway.
‘I wondered when the cavalry was going to arrive,’ Helen said, rising slowly.
‘You’re bloody lucky I’m here at all.We should be throwing the book at you.’
Helen stared at her old friend, surprised by her tone.She knew things were difficult between them, yet surely she was the one who should be aggrieved, given her treatment?
‘For what?’Helen demanded.
‘For trespass.For harassment.’
‘Rachel Firth and her cronies deserve everything they get.I explained all this to the custody sergeant, showed him the footage of me being threatened, not that he took a blind bit of interest.’
‘And how did you get onto Regus in the first place?’Charlie countered.‘How did you trace your mystery van back to her in particular?’
