Lost - Michael Robotham [100]
A Vauxhall Vectra is pulling out ahead of me. Rachel spies me at the last minute in her rear mirror and slows down. I open the trunk and tumble heavily inside, pulling the lid closed until it jams hard on my fingers but doesn’t lock shut.
We’re moving again. I’m curled up in a ball, with my cheek pressed against the nylon floor mat and my heart pounding. The wheel arches amplify the sound of the tires on the road and I can hear nothing else.
I feel for the earpiece. It’s fallen out and is dangling down on my chest. Putting it back into my ear, I hear Aleksei yelling in Russian. They don’t know which car to follow. There are two vehicles leaving the street—a BMW turning south down Fitzjohn’s Avenue and the Vectra turning north.
They’re trying to contact me. The walkie-talkie is digging into my chest. I lever myself upward and pull it free. There’s no response when I depress the talk button. I must have broken the two-way when I rolled into the car.
Aleksei won’t know which vehicle to follow until the cars are far enough apart for the transmitter to identify which one is carrying the ransom. By then he risks losing us completely.
I can’t help. Instead I concentrate on creating a mental map of north London in my head, trying to calculate which turns we make and the direction we’re heading. The minutes and miles tick by.
The weight of the trunk is keeping it closed until we hit a pothole, when it tries to jump open. I raise my head and try to peer through the narrow gap. The only thing visible is the light gray tarmac and occasional flashes of headlights.
Through the earpiece I can monitor Aleksei and the Russian. The BMW has been discounted. Now they’re heading toward Kilburn, relying solely on the signal from the diamonds.
Rolling onto my back, I keep one hand on the lid of the trunk and feel along the inside walls until I locate the internal light. The bulb feels smooth in my fingertips and I twist it free from the socket.
Several times the car stops and does a U-turn. Either Rachel is lost or they’re still making her jump through hoops. She’s driving faster now. The streets are emptier.
The car crosses a speed hump and suddenly stops. Is this it? I slide my gun from its holster and cradle it on my chest.
“Hey, Lady, you want to slow down. I almost took you for a joyrider.” It is a man’s voice. He might be a security guard with too much time on his hands. “Are you lost?”
“No. I’m looking for a … for a friend’s house.”
“I wouldn’t recommend you hang around here, Lady. Best you head back the way you came.”
“You don’t understand. I have to keep going.”
I can almost hear him chewing this over as if he wants to phone a friend before making a decision. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” he drawls.
“But I have to—”
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he says. He’s walking around the car, kicking at the tires.
“Please, let me go.”
“And what’s the big hurry? You in some sort of trouble?”
A wind has come up. Corrugated iron flaps on the ground and I can hear a dog barking. When the man reaches the rear of the car he notices the trunk is popped off its latch. His fingers hook under the lid.
As it opens, I slide my gun through the opening and press it into his groin. His jaw drops open and helps him take a deep breath.
“You are jeopardizing a police undercover operation,” I hiss. “Back away from the car and let the lady go.”
He blinks several times and nods, before slowly lowering the trunk. As the car pulls away I see his hand raised as if holding a salute.
Moving quickly again, we appear to be circling an industrial estate. Rachel is looking for something. She pulls off the road onto rough ground and stops, killing the engine.
In the sudden silence I can hear her voice but only one side of the conversation. “I can’t see any traffic cone,” she says. “No, I can’t see it.” She’s growing desperate. “It’s just a vacant lot … Wait! I see it now.”
The door opens. I feel the car gently rock. I don’t want her leaving. She has to stay close to me. There is no time to weigh my options. Hopefully, Aleksei