She hurried on across, the point where her quarry had penetrated the fence sliding into view. It was in the far west corner and was partly concealed by a clump of evergreens. The reason she hadn’t heard him breaking wood was because the gap was already there: a few of the slats had simply rotted and fallen away. As Lucy hared towards it, an engine revved and strong lights flooded the tarmac behind her.

She half-turned, seeing Tucker leap out of the Passat.

‘He’s got through the fence!’ she shouted. ‘There’s a footpath … he’ll either go left or right, but right will only take him back to Broadgate Green. So, I’m guessing left. That’s Halpin Road and there’s a bridge over. Get the car to the other side quickly, and you can intercept!’

Tucker nodded, clambering back into the Passat and gabbling into his radio.

Lucy ducked through the hole in the fence, at the same time digging out her own radio.

The narrow path beyond wasn’t pitch-black, but the high fencing on either side, for all that it was slatted, permitted minimal street lighting. She stumbled left anyway, following the beaten-earth trail, which gradually curved right, until she saw the lights of Halpin Road.

The footbridge also came into view, arching across the dual carriageway, the path leading straight onto it. And this was the way the suspect had come – the bridge was caged to stop idiots dropping things off it onto the traffic below, but she could still see as far across it as its apex, which gave her a momentary glimpse of a dark shape vanishing down towards the other side.

But this wasn’t the only thing she could see. As Lucy pelted out onto the bridge, great rectangular outlines, ghostly grey monoliths, emerged from the dimness on the far side of the carriageway. She’d forgotten that on the other side of Halpin Road lay Reddington Hall, a sprawling complex of high-rise and low-rise flats, all now condemned and standing as derelict shells. There were any number of hidey-holes and rubble-filled crawlspaces over there, where an escaping fugitive might conceal himself. More to the point, there was no easy access to Reddington Hall for vehicles. When Lucy got there, she’d be alone.

Chapter 12

The Reddington Hall flats had been empty for nearly five years while debates raged at local authority level about refurbishment or demolition. It had eventually been decided that they’d face the wrecking ball, though that time hadn’t come yet, and they’d been closed ever since, towering tomb-like edifices of grimy concrete, their windows covered with corrugated metal, the unlit passages winding between them strewn with rubbish and cinders.