BooksBarbecue
Back Outbreak
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

‘It’s showing up as where you’re standing,’ she told him. Damn. That could mean only one thing: Squires had realized his mistake and dumped it in the van before he ran. How the hell had he managed to get away unnoticed? And where could he have gone? Luke scanned the street, looking for exits, the phone still clamped to his ear. The place was rapidly filling now with police officers, many in plain clothes. Then something caught his eye. On the other side of the street there was a black-and-white bollard. Someone had chained a bicycle to it and it was missing its front wheel. But just beyond that, easily overlooked, was the entrance to a passageway that sloped down off York Way towards the platforms and tracks of King’s Cross station. Would Squires have …? Could he …? Luke did a rapid 360-degree scan of the street. Yes. There was nowhere else he could have gone.

‘I’m going after him,’ he told Angela.

‘Wait!’ he heard her say, but Luke was already hanging up and crossing the street.

He broke into a run immediately, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, setting off down the sloping passageway, searching for exits. It was quieter here, off the street, but the London night still seemed to resound to the noise of endless sirens, rising and falling, the soundtrack to the city. He stopped at the bottom, listening. A corrugated-iron fence, brown with rust and overgrown with weeds, blocked access to the platforms. He moved closer for a better view, and there, between two vertical panels, was a space just wide enough for a person to slip through. How many minutes had it been since the police stopped those two vans in their tracks? Five? Ten at most? Could Squires have made it down here in that time, unseen? Yes, had to be the answer.

The phone in his pocket was vibrating – it was the one they had lent him in the Land Rover, but Angela must have logged the number and now she was calling him back.

‘Luke!’ she said sharply. ‘You must wait for back-up. I’m ordering you to—’ He killed the call and pressed both side buttons at the same time to switch it off. He would do it his way, because this was personal now.