At the next set of lights the white roadster went left. Leaving Lewis with a choice. Either sit in the queue like a good boy and wait his turn at the lights. Or pull out and monster the oncoming traffic. He chose the latter. Flooring the V8 and flicking on Joe’s secret weapon. Blue lights and a police siren, behind the radiator grille. Totally illegal, but totally effective. Ploughed through a flock of cars, scattering them in all directions as drivers took to the pavement to get out of his way. A savage grin on his face. Game on.

He took the left turn as fast as he dared in the wrong lane. Tucking in to the left side once the road opened up. Having flicked off the blues and squawks as he came past the lights. A dot of white in the middle distance.

‘Still got eyes on. Heading west.’

A hint of urgency in Eddie’s voice.

‘We’ve lost her tracker, must be in a dead spot! What road you on?’

‘How do I fucking know? I turned left at a set of lights, now I’m going west. Just passing a chippy. Name’s Codulike.’

‘What was that? You’re breaking up!’

Eddie’s words frayed at the edges. Something interfering with his phone?

‘Codulike. Cod! U! Like!’ Silence at the other end. ‘Hello?’

Nothing. Perhaps a vague whisper, but unintelligible.

‘Fucking phone!’

He looked down at the Merc’s screen. No bars of signal. Nothing at all. Useless bastards. Looked up again, just in time to see the Mazda turn left again. Floored the Merc, powering towards the junction. Took the turn with a screech of rubber, braking down to cruising speed as he realised it was a dead end. Bitch had a hidey hole, did she? Looking left and right. Searching for the tell-tale flash of white that would tell him where she’d run to.

37

Mickey waited. Quiet as a mouse. Pulse racing. Partly due to the run from the car. Partly because of the enormity of what he was about to attempt. His subconscious screaming blue murder at the risk he was taking. Like a caveman about to try taking down a sabre-toothed tiger with nothing more than a net and a heavy stick. No pistol. No Taser. No grenades. Crouched behind a wall, in a derelict warehouse. Hiding in the shadows like a hunted rat. Waiting for a very dangerous cat to make an appearance. Blowing a long slow breath out. Willing his body to stillness.