“They encrypted most of their apps,” the cyber officer had said, proudly announcing their findings to the briefing room that morning. “But we cracked it. Bosko is set to travel from Cornwall to Northampton today. We don’t know the vehicle yet, but we have a data catcher tracking his location as we speak.”
Oliver had wrinkled his nose and looked up at Lucas, who grinned and dipped his head. “It’s essentially a black box that acts as a fake mobile tower. It lets us intercept his GPS data without him knowing. We won’t be able to pinpoint the vehicle until we’re within a three metre radius, but with any luck we’ll see him driving. It’s a good bit of kit. The Special Branch didn’t let it go without a fight.”
Oliver nodded and patted the back of Lucas’ hand. “No idea what you just said, but well done.”
“There! Look Ollie, there! A white Focus, private reg plate, yeah?” Nancy shouted, knocking him out of his thoughts.
“Shit,” he replied, quickly packing away the thermos flask and popping another peppermint sweet into his mouth. He started the Jazz, hefted it into first gear and sped out of the lay-by. “Cyber said it’s either a white Focus or a grey Octavia. We don’t know which one contains Bosko yet, so keep your eyes peeled for a lanky twat with ratty hair.”
Nancy nodded, stuffing the rest of the cheese sandwich into her mouth. “Charlie papa two,” she said into the radio after swallowing with a loud gulp.
“Charlie papa two, go ahead.”
She wiggled her eyebrows and cleared her throat. “I’m in company with charlie papa one. We have eyes on the white Focus. No sighting of the second suspect vehicle at this time.”
“Received charlie papa two, there is a police convoy vehicle approximately twenty metres from your position. The second suspect vehicle is just coming up on you now.”
Oliver glanced in the rear-view mirror, spotting the black transit van with hidden blue lights a few cars back. The van was stuffed to the brim with Special Branch officers. Their path had been cleared of all marked police cars, lest they spook Bosko and end up in a high-speed chase down the M5. As cool as that may sound,nobodywanted the paperwork.
“Charlie papa two, this is bravo delta one.” Lucas’ voice rang out across the radio.
“Go ahead sarge,” Nancy said.
“You and charlie papa one are to maintain a safe distance from the suspect vehicle. Do not engage, understood?”
Nancy rolled her eyes and glanced at Oliver. Oliver just looked sheepishly ahead. “Understood,” she said, putting down the radio. “Your beau is quite the party-pooper, DC Reed.”
Didn’t he fucking know it.
As the motorway tapered away, the scenery became less like a concrete jungle, and more scenic. The road shrank from six lanes into two, and it suddenly became both easier and a lot more difficult to track two cars at once. Visibility was better and the roads were slower, but following two vehicles down a straight stretch of motorway was far easier than trying to keep tabs on them through a busy town.
“What if one car turns off? Can the data catcher keep up?” Nancy said, tugging at the seatbelt across her chest.
Oliver nodded. “Lucas said the van’s far enough back that they should be able to compensate for the time delay. If that happens, we’ll just have to pick a car and stick with it.”
Nancy hummed. “Right… right. Well, let’s not forget we’re in a Honda Jazz. Do you prefer our chances with the Focus or the Octavia?”
Oliver grimaced. “Neither.”
Nancy nodded solemnly. “Maintaining a safe distance, it is, then.”
Pulling up at a set of traffic lights, Oliver tried to discreetly peer into the back window of the Ford, which was difficult because the glass was blacked out. As were the windows of the Octavia. They sat in a line, one behind the other, as they waited for the lights to turn green.
“How much do you wanna bet they’re travelling together?” Nancy said, zipping up the front of her coat to better hide her stab vest.
“I’d say that’s a safe bet,” Oliver replied, licking his rapidly drying lips.
Suddenly, the Ford pulled into the left-hand lane, the Skoda to the right. “What the fuck?” Oliver said, creeping the Jazz up into the space between.
“Shit, I think they’re gonna split,” Nancy said, leaning forward.
“Right, well, pick a car Nance, and we’ll just have to follow it.”
“Oh—er—um—shit. The Ford. No, Octavia. Oh fuck, no, just go with the Ford.”
Oliver nodded, drifting into the left-hand lane as he discretely pressed the button on his radio. “Charlie papa one, the suspect vehicles appear to be splitting at the Belvidere junction. DC Purslow and I will keep tabs on the Ford, which appears to be heading westbound towards Falkington.”
“Received, charlie papa one,” the dispatcher replied. “Convoy, what’s your ETA for data refresh?”
