‘Looks like a road rage thing. He wants her to get moving.’

‘It was that girl,’ Nick said. ‘The camera showed a girl about Josie’s age go over the zebra crossing. Someone tell that dickhead to piss off.’

‘Can’t you help her?’ Jane pleaded.

‘We can’t, we don’t know if she’s being watched,’ Bennet said.

Camera #6 showed Anna’s door jerk open. She tried to grab it. A pointing finger stabbed into the screen. Now that the door was open, external sounds found the microphone.

‘Are you bloody stupid, woman? Why are you just sitting there? Move your fat arse out the way.’

‘Base, you want me to move in and stop this?’

‘Negative, Car 2. Keep reporting,’ Bennet said.

‘No, you’ve got to do something,’ Jane moaned. ‘What if he hits her?’

Miller nudged Nick’s arm and tapped the feed from camera #2. One of the detectives said, ‘Are we sure this guy’s for real and it’s not part of some test to see if she’s being followed?’

‘Get moving, or I’ll shift you, you silly bitch. What’s your problem? Don’t just sit there looking stupid.’

But onscreen, Anna was still cowering away, unable or unwilling to answer him. Now she looked terrified.

‘Let’s just think about this,’ Bennet said. ‘What are the chances this guy is part of it? Someone Google that firm.’ He pointed at camera #2, rear-view from a lens above the number plate, which clearly showed the van’s bonnet with the company name and mobile number.

Middleton couldn’t hold his tongue: ‘Someone help my daughter, please.’

‘The guy’s pulled out his phone. I think he just got a call.’

Heads turned as Nick said, ‘Hey, Phoenix van man, that’s Ronnie Kray’s granddaughter you’re messing with. You want your head cut off with one of your own knives? Get lost.’

‘Something going on here, boss. Guy just panicked and ran back to his van. Jesus, U-turn in the road and he’s out of there.’

The DS glared at Nick. ‘That wasn’t very clever, Mr Carter. What if that driver…’

But he stopped as Nick tossed Miller her phone back. ‘Just put the CD back on for my wife.’

The phone box on the corner just sat there, innocent, nothing but a piece of street furniture nobody out and about gave two hoots for. But she was terrified to go near it. She fingered the tiny lump under her top.

‘Try not to touch the transmitter,’ Bennet said, referring to the small microphone/camera they’d ordered her to wear. ‘Eleven minutes to go. Are you okay?’

‘Put Nick on.’

‘I’m here,’ he said.

She looked at the rear-view mirror, where one of the tiny microphones was placed. She smiled at it. At Nick, who would be watching.