“About forty-five seconds,” a Special Branch officer piped up. “Convoy to maintain position to avoid losing ground.”
“Received.”
“Bravo delta one,” Lucas said again. “Myself and bravo delta two will circle back around the outer ring roads to intersect the Ford. DCs Purslow and Reed are to maintain a safe distance.”
“Jesus Christ,” Nancy groaned, “Tell Big Daddy to chill out, dude.” Oliver chuckled and shook his head. If only she knew.
The lights turned green and Oliver pulled up behind the Ford, but after a few seconds, the radio lit up again. “Op Sceptre, this is convoy. The catcher appears to show the cell signal coming from the Skoda. I repeat, Bosko is likely travelling in the Skoda.”
“Fuck!” Oliver barked, because it appeared they’d bet on the wrong horse.“We should still keep track of the Ford, just to be sure,” he said, glancing at Nancy’s disappointed expression.
She nodded before pressing her radio. “Charlie papa two, myself and charlie papa one request authorisation to maintain surveillance on the Ford for approximately five miles until we are certain they are not travelling together.”
Inspector Callahan, who was no doubt listening to everything unfold from the comfort of his office, spoke up, “Charlie papa two, your request is authorised.”
The vehicle turned left and right through the streets of Falkington, before eventually settling along the rural stretch of road linking one town to the next. The land was mostly flat, with tall crop fields either side of the road.
“Well, if they weren’t suspicious about a little blue Jazz following their every move, they certainly will be now,” Oliver groaned.
“I know, just play it cool. Big Daddy and Blake are meeting us at the next junction.”
Oliver nodded. “Perhaps we should put a stop on the vehicle, check everyone out. Just to be sure.”
Nancy cocked a brow. “Does this thing even have blue lights?”
Oliver smirked, flicking open the hidden compartment within the centre console. “Yep.”
“Wow. Well, maybe wait a minute for some of the other cars to turn off and—ooh, shit. What’re they doing?”
Oliver’s eyes snapped up, just in time to see the back end of the Ford dip down and accelerate.Fast. Like—get out of my fucking way, the cops are on my arse—kind of fast.
“Shitting tits,” Oliver growled, stamping his foot on the accelerator. The Jazz, to its credit, lurched into life after a spluttering moment of delay.
Nancy yelped as her head flew back, hitting the headrest. “Old girl’s got some juice in her yet!”
Oliver grinned, thumb hovering over the talk-through button, ready to transmit their situation. Suddenly, the radio erupted with a string of hurried commands and directions. It sounded like the convoy van had stopped the Skoda, and all the occupants had jumped out.
“Sodding hell,” Oliver said, eyes razor focused on the car ahead. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“I don’t know, dude. But I said they were travelling together, didn’t I?”
When there was a moment’s respite in the radio chatter, Nancy cut in. “Charlie papa two, suspect vehicle is making off at speed. Permission to engage?”
“Permission denied,” Lucas spoke up. “Maintain a safe dist?—”
“Overruled,” Callahan’s voice cut across him. “Charlie papa two, you are to execute a compliant stop on that vehicle immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Nancy said, flicking open the centre console and pressing the button for the blues and twos.
A moment of dread roiled in Oliver’s gut as he thought about the tiny life he carried within him. Of the little flashingdot in the middle of the screen that was clinging to life, despite the odds stacked against it. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should absolutelynotbe doing this. However, the images of Alfie, Helena, and all the other children who had suffered unimaginable violation, flashed through his mind. The decision was simple.
“Ready?” He said, palm hovering over the car horn.
“Do it,” Nancy said, a broad smile splitting her cheeks.
Oliver punched the horn and the sirens burst to life, the blue and red lights hidden behind the front grill flashing, lighting them up like a Christmas tree. The Ford sped up and began winding through the traffic like a piss-drunk snake.
“Are you pursuit trained, Ollie?”
