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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Someone behind him shouted, ‘Don’t let him out!’ and the hooded man stood blocking his path, legs astride, a long club in his right hand. Luke didn’t break step, he ran right up to him, slashing the knife through the air in front of his face. ‘Open the fucking gates!’ Luke roared, as he ran. The guard jumped back from the blade and fumbled with the keys to the padlock. Luke could hear boots running on tarmac in the darkness behind him. They were catching up. He jabbed the tip of the knife into the man’s side causing him nearly to drop the keys. ‘Hurry up!’ he yelled. He had only seconds left. The adrenalin was coursing through him, his mind racing, his body primed for both fight and flight.

The padlock sprang open, the chain fell away and Luke was through the gate, racing down the road back towards the town of Braintree. But now, from behind him, came another sound, the noise of vehicle engines starting up, roaring into gear as they set off after him. If he didn’t change course he knew it would be just seconds before they had him. And he really didn’t want to think what they would do to him this time.

106

Near Braintree, Essex

Sunday, 20 March, 2352hrs GMT

LUKE WAS ‘HARD-TARGETING’. In a desperate effort to get away down that darkened lane, he was zigzagging left and right, dodging the bullet he feared might come at any second. From close behind he could hear shouts, yells and revving car engines as his pursuers gained on him. He searched frantically as he ran, looking for an escape route.

To his left, the chain-link fence, far too high to scale. To his right, a steep grassy bank topped by a hedge, thick and impenetrable. He was trapped, hemmed in on both sides.

A stinging pain erupted in his left shoulder, followed by a loud bang. He knew he’d been hit. It sounded like a shotgun. It hurt like hell, but he kept running. The next time he wouldn’t be so lucky. He needed to get off the road. And then he saw. A metre-wide break in the hedge. His pulse roaring in his ears, his arm throbbing, Luke veered off at a right angle, leaving the road as the sound of the vehicles grew ever louder. He was up the grassy bank, through the gap and on to the edge of a muddy ploughed field. His night vision was kicking in now as he made a snap judgement on which way to go. Think, Luke. Think outside the box. They’ll be expecting you to keep going, away from the warehouse and back towards Braintree. So do the opposite.