‘So, Helen, shall we finish what we started?’he drawled, flashing a set of stained teeth.‘Or are you going to come quietly?’
Helen glared at him.The distance between them was only a few feet, but there was no way she could cover the ground before he got a shot off.What then was the alternative?Surrender?Whilst Viyan was burned alive?
The smiling thug cocked the hammer, offering Helen a final warning.She knew she should relent, but a towering rage was growing inside her.These sadistic bastards were responsible for Selima’s death, for Viyan’s imminent immolation, for the loss of her own child, denying Helen the motherhood she suddenly found she craved.Was she going to let them get away with these outrages?Was she going to let themwin?
Bowing her head as if conceding defeat, Helen took a step forward, then hurled the branch at her captor with all her might.Surprised, her assailant moved fast to deflect the branch, but in so doing was forced to lower his gun.Summoning her last vestiges of energy, Helen ran forwards, arriving just in time to bat the gun from his hand as he tried to raise it once more.Now she didn’t hesitate, driving her fist into his stomach, before following up with a vicious upper cut.Her victim had recovered from his initial shock, however, jerking his head back just in time to avoid the blow.Helen’s fist sailed clean past, leaving her hopelessly exposed.Her enemy took full advantage, his clenched fist exploding into her right cheek.Defenceless, off balance, Helen flew backwards, colliding heavily with the ground.The breath was punched from her, her head hit an exposed rock, then suddenly everything went black.
Chapter 93
He only had one overriding priority now.He had to escape.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, Visser pressed hard on the accelerator, the heavy articulated truck thundering forward.He was comfortably over the limit, but felt speed was now more important than caution, his instinct telling him that he was in danger.He had no idea what the escaped illegal had told her rescuer, or indeed the police, during her brief interlude of freedom, but he knew this horrific lapse in security meant only bad things – for him, for Leyla, for their whole operation.The illegal had seen him face on, had no doubt already provided the police with a physical description, his nationality, details about the Rotterdam hostel and possibly more besides.Should he lie low then, wait for the heat to die down, then attempt to leave the UK?His gut told him no.Viyan had been recaptured fairly quickly, her rescuer injured in attempting to save her and, with both of them out of the game, there was a chance, a window to exploit.If they hadn’t yet made contact with the police, or if the authorities were slow to connect the dots, then he might still be able to slip out of the country with his stash of gold before the shit hit the fan.
Racing past a thirty sign at well north of fifty miles an hour, Visser now took his foot off the accelerator, bringing the truckdown to a more acceptable speed.He was now only a few miles from the docks.If luck was on his side, if fate smiled upon him, he would be on a crossing tonight, back to his beloved Holland.He enjoyed his visits to England, had made good money here, but he never felt comfortable until he was back amongst his own countrymen, able to blend into the background.Here he always felt like a curiosity, the locals taking great pleasure in his accent for reasons which were beyond him.The sooner he was back in Rotterdam, his hometown, the better.
Even as he thought this, his eyes strayed to his faded Feyenoord scarf, a good luck charm he always took with him on foreign trips.It had not let him down yet and he longed to be wearing it once more in its proper setting, the majestic De Kuip stadium in the south of the city.The thought made his heart ache, picturing himself amidst the throng, enjoying the roar of the crowd, the crisp bite of cheap beer, the tang of his post-match smoke.Simple pleasures, but he had learned to treasure them, so unpredictable, dangerous and fraught had his day-to-day life become.Maybe he should give it all up, embrace a quieter life now that he had a golden retirement pot, acknowledge that he had had a good run.That might help persuade Suzanne to finally take him back, but was it realistic?Was there not a part of him that enjoyed the tension, revelled in the drama?Was he really cut out to beordinary?
Checking his mirrors, Visser realized there was a queue forming behind him.Uncomfortable with a long line of cars sitting on his bumper, he wound down his window, gesturing for them to pass.The way ahead was clear and the first car in line needed no second invitation, the souped-up Mazda roaring past and racing away into the distance.After a small delay, a second car also followed, a Land Rover Discovery turning on the burners, the attractive driver looking up at him as she spedpast.The third car, a red hatchback, remained where it was, however, keeping a safe distance between them.Surprised, Visser stuck his arm out again, gesturing once more for the Corsa to pass, reluctant to have anyone sitting on his bumper.But once more the driver made no move to respond, despite the open road ahead.
And now a disturbing thought stole over Visser.Was it possible he was being followed?That someone was on to him?Raising his speed slightly, he was alarmed to see the red Corsa respond, matching his pace.Frowning, Visser stabbed the brake quickly.This seemed to take the hatchback by surprise, suddenly drawing it close to his truck.Now he had a clearer view of the driver and what he saw shocked him to the core.
It was Emilia Garanita.He would recognize that face anywhere.She was following him.She was stalking him, intent on gaining her revenge.Keeping his speed steady, determined not to reveal that he’d spotted her, Visser thundered on towards the docks, his mind reeling.How on earth had she found him?Had she already called the cops?Were they lying in wait for him?If so, with only a mile or so until the port, was it too late to do anything about it?
Had he finally run out of road?
Chapter 94
‘Where is he?’
Charlie’s tone was urgent and tense, demanding a response.
‘He’s about half a mile away,’ DC Roberts responded briskly, checking the tracking app that Emilia had told them to download.‘He’s making steady progress, doesn’t seem to be much in the way of traffic today, so my guess is that he should be here imminently.’
‘Alright, tell everybody to stand by,’ Charlie replied.‘Our top priority is to stop him safely and without incident.Timing is going to be crucial though – remind everyone to hold back until I say so, I don’t want him getting spooked and diverting before he’s boxed in, OK?’
Nodding, DC Roberts pulled his radio from his belt and began relaying the order to the other teams.The whole of the MIT had been deployed to Southampton docks, just as they had been four days ago, but this time Charlie was hoping for a very different outcome.That outing had ended in humiliation, their real target slipping through unscathed, whilst they mistakenly persecuted an innocent Belgian haulier.Back then they had no idea who they were dealing with, nor how sly his operation was, but now the boot was on the other foot.Thanks to Helen’s intervention they not only knew the lorry’s registration number,they also knew the name of the driver – Matthijs Vissser, a Dutch national.And thanks to Emilia’s tip-off, they were able to track the driver’s progress via the journalist’s surveillance app.If Charlie felt a slight twinge of guilt that the majority of the detective work had been done by an ex-police officer and a journalist, she pushed it away.It didn’t matter who’d done the leg work, all that mattered now was the result.
How would the trafficker react?Would he abandon his vehicle and flee?Would he try to fight his way out?Whatever lay in store, the key thing now was to take him by surprise.If he clocked the heavy police presence before he reached the heart of the port, then he might turn right around and head back onto the ring road, a disastrous prospect given the potential for casualties on that perennially busy road.No, they had to let him enter the ferry terminal, make him feel that the sea-bound traffic was proceeding as normal, before they made their move.Border Force could manipulate the traffic flow, ensuring there was a decent gap between him and the preceding vehicle, but after that it would all come down to them.Timing would be crucial, it being vital that the stingers were laid front and back, the roadblock erected, before he had a chance to react.Once he was on the main thoroughfare to the departure point, he would be hemmed in, with no side roads to escape down, so if the team did their job right, if they timed their intervention wisely, then surely there would be no escape?
Exhaling slowly, Charlie tried to clamp down her nerves.The last few months had been fraught, the past week borderline traumatic, but finally she had the sense that things were coming to a head.This man had mocked them for too long, presumably taking great pleasure from his subterfuge, consistentlyhoodwinking the authorities who searched fruitlessly for him.But now his luck had run out, his cover was blown and at long last, Charlie felt certain that victory was at hand.
Chapter 95
Her eyes were filled with dust, her head was spinning, but still Helen could make out her attacker’s enraged face as he squeezed the life out of her.Helen had hit the ground hard, the back of her head connecting sharply with an exposed rock, leaving her confused and disoriented.Her attacker had capitalized on her misfortune, pinning down her arms with his knees and sliding his hands around her exposed neck.
Through the dancing dirt, Helen tried to fix her attention on her attacker.His face swam in and out of focus, but his intention was clear: he meant to crush the life out of her.This was a man who thrived on violence, on control, who enjoyed forcing himself on those less powerful than himself.Twisting and turning on the dirty ground, Helen laboured to free herself from his hold, desperate to shake him off, to wipe that gruesome smile from his face.But her assailant’s blood was up, the furious thug hell-bent on destroying the woman who’d become a major thorn in their side.
With each passing second, the pressure increased.Helen’s vision was dimming, her last remaining vestiges of energy ebbing away, and she could sense that the end was near.Was this how it was supposed to go?Was this darkest of days always destinedto be her last?It made sense perhaps, one fight too many at the culmination of a troubled and often painful life.
Helen had only seconds left, but could do nothing whilst pinned down and helpless.Frantically, she twisted and tugged, desperate to free her arms from beneath his bulky knees.And now finally she caught a break, her left hand slithering free.Her attacker barely noticed, thrilled by the sight of her bulging eyes and flushed face, excited by the prospect of the kill.Unable to see clearly, gasping for breath, Helen’s outstretched fingers now alighted on the rock she’d hit her head on.Gripping it firmly, she summoned her last shred of resolve, then smashed the rock into the back of his skull.Caught off guard, her assailant cried out, immediately loosening his grip.Released from his hold, Helen was quick to follow up her initial assault, swinging the rock round with all her might.Reeling, her enemy did not see it coming, the pointed end of the stone hitting him hard in the temple.Groaning, he rolled off, then lay still in the dust.
Helen’s throat was on fire, her chest burning, her legs as shaky as a newborn lamb’s, but somehow she managed to clamber to her feet.Swaying like a boxer on the ropes, she still had to deal with her attacker’s companion, who had snatched up the discarded gun and now pointed it directly at her.There was little chance of her giving up now, however, especially as she could make out shouting elsewhere in the yard, screams of shock and confusion as people became aware of the vicious confrontation taking place.Without hesitation, she spun on her heel, hurling the rock directly at the thug.Her aim was true, the rock hitting him squarely between the eyes.Stunned, the man staggered backwards, clutching his face.This moment of hesitation was all Helen needed and, stepping forward, she swung her heavy boot up between his legs.The burly man virtually leapt into the air, spilling the gun from his grasp.As he came back downto earth, shocked and gasping, Helen took another purposeful step forward, driving her fist into the middle of his face.With satisfaction, she felt his nose snap before he too hit the ground, out cold.
Snatching up the gun, Helen limped across the yard, breathing heavily as she cut a faltering path towards the clanking incinerator.Terrified workers scattered in her wake, Helen scrambled on, on, on, until suddenly she found herself directly in front of Leyla, who turned to greet her, eyes ablaze.
Outraged at this unexpected intrusion, the gangmaster tugged a bicycle chain from her pocket and began to advance.Helen knew she had no energy left, no resolve for another confrontation, so swallowing her scruples she raised the gun, aiming it at her assailant’s legs.
‘Not another step or Iwillfire,’ Helen barked.
