She randomly pressed the buttons on her phone, desperate to darken her phone screen in case Vinnie spotted it in the darkness. His car passed by, then stopped, and reversed back to the gate. He switched on his car lights. As the beam of his headlamps swept by, she felt exposed in the sudden flare of brightness. He’d spotted her, he had to have spotted her.
She looked at the car, then the gate and over towards the tractor. The farmer’s phone screen was still lit up, and he was some distance from his vehicle. She’d already considered taking it when she had asked Will to stop the van, figuring that if she lost her nerve, she would run across the fields over to the wind farm. Now she knew it would have to be the tractor option.
Charlotte put her hand on the edge of the gate, pushed it forward and slammed it against the post opposite, where it latched up with a metal locking mechanism. Without looking back, she started running directly towards the tractor.
The farmer had realised something was up and was shouting at her from the darkness. She imagined him trying to run through the furrows, pulling his trousers up from around his ankles, and almost laughed out loud.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she shouted, ‘but this is really important.’
She’d never been in a tractor cab before, much less driven one, so didn’t have a clue where to start. All she saw was a dazzling array of headlamps in an all-terrain vehicle that would get her across those fields fast, providing the best chance of reaching Kate Summers before Vinnie did.
Once in the cab, she looked at the controls. Gear stick, clutch, brake, accelerator. They were caked in mud and there was a prevailing waft of body odour, but it all made sense. She pulled the cab door shut, dipped the clutch, selected a gear and lurched forward.
There was some resistance; the vehicle was moving, but not as fast as she’d expected. The plough was holding it back, still sunk into the mud. Charlotte checked the cluster of levers, and saw one of them was in a different position from the rest. It was her best chance. She pushed it, experiencing more resistance than she’d expected, but it lifted behind her and the tractor began to move freely. The farmer was now running at her side, shouting at her. She looked over towards the gate. Vinnie’s car headlamps were on, directed at the field, and he was opening the gate and coming for her.
‘Get out of the way; find somewhere to hide!’ she shouted at the farmer.
‘Get out of the bloody cab!’ he shouted back at her, just audible above the roar of the engine. She was still driving slowly enough for the farmer to leap up to the steps at the side of the cab and cling onto the door handle and the large wing mirror, screaming at her to stop.
Charlotte cursed as she realised she was heading in the opposite direction to the turbines. She spun the tractor around, driving over the newly ploughed furrows; the farmer wouldn’t be winning any ploughing competitions now she’d messed up his straight lines.
She moved through the gears, not entirely sure what to do next. Vinnie was driving into the field. What was he intending to do, chase her?
She soon knew the answer. He stopped the SUV, leaned out of his window and shot at the tractor. The bullet ricocheted off the top of the cab, startling the farmer so much that he released his grip and dropped to the ground. Charlotte made a frantic arm movement to him.
‘Get out of the way,’ she urged, ‘he’s crazy.’
Vinnie was back in his car and ready to pursue her again. She looked around, desperately weighing up her options. There was only one thing for it: to go cross-country. And to start her journey, she needed to find out if the tractor was capable of crashing through the only obstacle in her way: a thorny hedge which bounded the perimeter of the field.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlotte closed her eyes as the tractor hurtled towards the hedge. She had no idea what the result would be, but it had to be an improvement on continuing the game of cat and mouse with Vinnie or running across muddy fields on foot.
When she opened her eyes once again, she was on the other side of the hedgerow, with clusters of hawthorn bush attached to the front grille and an entire root being pulled along by the blades of the raised plough. Up ahead, the red lights of the turbines punctuated the darkness, like sentinels of the countryside, standing proud in the rural landscape.
She aimed the tractor towards the lights, amazed at its height and power. The cab was set up for a tall farmer, so she couldn’t see in the rear-view mirror, and had to turn to confirm that Vinnie was still on her tail. He was driving more cautiously, navigating the uneven ground.
To her side she spotted sheep, alarmed by the glaring lights and uncertain which way to run to avoid the monster in the night. As she veered to the side to avoid the flock, she realised she was only a field away from the turbines now. Vinnie had no idea Will was safely away with the documents, but he could still abduct her and hold her hostage. She regretted not telling Will to send DI Comfort directly to the wind farm; but she had to deliver Kate into safe hands, away from the rogue police officer at Morecambe station. She would only release the documents once DCI Summers was safe from any possible sabotage or interference.
A bull appeared suddenly from the darkness. Charlotte slammed on the brakes, throwing herself forward and striking her head on the steering wheel. The tractor stopped dead and stalled, and Vinnie’s car ran into the raised plough. The bull stayed exactly where it was, as if it had every right to be there.
Charlotte was dazed, but she couldn’t hang about. She started up the tractor again, thankful for it firing straight away, and checked either side of the cab doors for Vinnie. He was standing to her right-hand side, his gun pointing at the cab. How the hell had he moved so fast?
Over the engine noise, she heard him shouting at her.
‘Get out, Charlotte. It’s over. We know where Kate Summers is hiding. If you don’t stop running, we’ll go for your kids.’
It was all she needed to hear. They’d hit the lowest common denominator. Well, tough guy or not, it was time Vinnie Mace learnt an important life lesson: a mother whose children have just been threatened is more dangerous than an Afghan rebel could ever be. Or a bull, come to that.
She floored the accelerator, spun the steering wheel and made a 180-degree turn, sending Vinnie hurtling to the ground to avoid the blades of the plough which swung over his head. The bull began to trot towards him, and as she straightened up the tractor to resume her original course, she saw Vinnie struggling to find his feet. She didn’t know if the bull stereotype was true, but if he chased Vinnie it would give her some time to get to the turbine first. The tractor’s speed was impressive. She’d been stuck behind one many times along the country lanes of Lancashire, but this model was bigger and faster than she’d imagined.
Careering through the next hedge, she arrived at the far corner of the field in which the wind turbines stood. The headlamps on the tractor gave off sufficient light for her to make out the steel bases of the structures in the distance.
She’d been told by Kate to look for Unit 12. As she passed the first turbine, she saw a cluster of black lettering at the base. At first it seemed confusing and overwhelming, but as she stared at the letters, she saw what Kate meant. It was Unit 7.
There were no signs of Vinnie behind her, but his car headlamps were still visible in the distance, where she’d left him with the bull. The image of two, angry, macho alphas having to fight it out in the fields below her was oddly satisfying, despite the immense stress she was under. She had to find Unit 12 as fast as possible and get Kate away from the area. With any luck, her visitors were a maintenance team and they would have whisked her away to safety by now.
At last she spotted the twelfth unit. Keen to distract Vinnie away from it and buy extra time, she drove the tractor further up the hill, away from Unit 12, switched off the ignition, turned off the headlamps and stepped out of the cab. She placed the keys in her pocket; the tractor had proved an excellent escape vehicle, despite its cumbersome size. Using the torch on her phone would help t
o light the way, but it was too risky. Knowing a tough guy like Vinnie Mace, for all she knew he’d have made best pals with the bull and would arrive riding it like a stallion in a shower of testosterone. Well, screw that. She and Kate would outwit them, using guile and cunning instead. It seemed like a plan, at least.
She ran down towards Unit 12, almost losing her footing on the way, but she recovered her balance fast enough to avoid an ankle sprain. On arriving at the base of the steps leading to the entrance of the turbine, she saw the door was ajar. If it hadn’t been for the sound of the turbine’s blades punctuating their phone calls, she would never have guessed where Kate was hiding. It was a genius move, hiding on Fabian Armstrong’s own doorstep.
Charlotte walked cautiously up the steel steps and opened the door. It creaked on its hinges. The base of the turbine was lit, as it had been when she’d climbed up to report on her experience for the newspaper. She expected to see Kate Summers waiting for her, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Instead, Sam Halford was out cold on the concrete floor, his head bloodied where he’d been struck by a blunt instrument.
She rushed up to him, calling his name, checking he was still alive. He was breathing faintly, but his face was ashen and his body limp. Charlotte looked up towards the ladder which led to the top of the turbine. She called out, the echo of her voice seeming to get lost in the vast, circular structure.
‘Kate. Kate. Are you up there?’
There was silence for a moment.
An unfamiliar voice came from the top of the turbine, echoing back down its long, tubular frame.
‘Charlotte Grayson. At last. Come up and join us. I have Kate Summers with me now.’
Charlotte sensed her body being seized by a sudden, cold frost.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she called back. ‘Is Kate safe?’
‘I’m Joanne Taylor, Charlotte. Don’t you think it’s time you and I met?’
Chapter Thirty-Six
December 1999
The moment Tiffany felt herself falling to the ground outside the village hall, she knew it was all over. They were one step ahead of her; they were always one step ahead of her.
She’d glanced around the car park for Brett as soon as she walked outside. He was there; she saw his lights. He’d stuck to the plan and was tucked away out of sight at the far end of the car park. She could always rely on Brett.
From nowhere, Joanne appeared. Then David, with another man at his side. As soon as she saw them, she knew things weren’t right. Frozen in shock, she stared at them, then... oblivion. What had they done to her? A wall of darkness descended, her legs crumpled beneath her and the gravel scraped against her face as she struck the ground.
She woke sometime later, not knowing for how long she’d been out cold. A crippling fog swirled around in her head and her limbs were numb. She was in a confined space. The distinctive smell of dried formula milk on the blanket underneath her told Tiffany she was lying in the boot of the car. A wave of panic washed over her, but she couldn’t make a noise or move. The drug they’d injected into her was too strong.
Tiffany tried to calm herself for a moment to listen. There were voices. Some she recognised, but others were unfamiliar. David was there, and so was Joanne. They sounded more tense than she’d ever heard them before. It was unusual; they were usually cocksure, confident of their power and status.
There were other voices too, strange voices, in an accent she couldn’t quite catch. They were some distance away, close enough to get a sense of the conversation, but not so close to hear specific words. They were speaking in English but with a foreign accent, Eastern European, possibly even Russian. She could hear one of the children too. Where were they? It was Callie, babbling, but she couldn’t hear the others. They must be in the back of the car, just at the other side of her.
As Tiffany lay listening in the darkness of the car boot, she heard the light tread of a thief’s footsteps, of someone fearful of alerting anyone within earshot.
There was a gentle click in front of her; somebody was opening the car door.
‘Man!’ Callie exclaimed.
Tiffany heard a calm shushing sound, the gentle reassurance of a person who was happy to deal with children.
‘Hi, Callie,’ came a whisper, ‘I need you to be really quiet if you can.’
It was Brett; he’d followed them.
‘Brett,’ she whispered in a voice so hoarse that she could barely speak.
She tried again; he hadn’t heard her.
‘Brett—’
‘Tiff?’
She heard the cautious crunching of feet on the ground.
‘Man gone,’ Callie said, like it was a game.
Tiffany heard Brett’s nervous breathing before he spoke again.
‘I need you to stay really quiet,’ Brett said. ‘This is dangerous Tiff, stay still and wait for my lead—’
‘What’s going on?’ she whispered. ‘Are the kids okay?’
The car boot clicked, and Tiffany jumped. As Brett raised the cover a little, she turned to see his mouth and nose through the narrow gap, lit up by some lights in the distance. She immediately sensed his tension.
‘Where man gone?’ Callie asked.
‘Oh, thank God, Brett, what the hell is going on?’
‘They drugged you, Tiff, I watched them do it in the car park. It was David and Joanne and some other man who made himself scarce immediately afterwards. They took you and the kids. So I followed them.’
‘Are the children okay?’
‘Only if we can get them away from here. I’ll call Kate too. She can help.’
‘What’s going on, Brett? What are they doing?’
‘They’re Russians, Tiff. I think David’s doing some deal over the children.’
Tiffany jumped up, the flow of adrenaline breaking through the debilitating effects of the drug.
‘Stay down, Tiff. These people have guns. Whatever shit David’s got involved in, it’s serious. There’s a big bag of money sitting on the ground by this woman’s feet. It all sounds a bit tense. This is dangerous, Tiff; I suspect they’re trying to sell the children for some illegal adoption racket. It’s crazy. This sort of thing doesn’t go on in Morecambe. It doesn’t happen to people like us.’
‘We have to do something, Brett.’
‘I’m trying. My car is parked along the road. I’m going to try to move the kids while they’re all talking. If we can get the kids away safely, David and Joanne can look after themselves.’
‘Help me out of here, Brett. I’m weak. Whatever they gave me has knocked me for six.’
‘It’s not safe, Tiff. If they see us, I don’t know what they’ll do.’
‘We can’t just sit here.’
Powerless to do anything, all she knew was that she wouldn’t let her monster of a husband take her children.
‘Look, Rowan is sound asleep, he’s the easiest for me to take. He’s on the side of the car furthest away from them—’
‘We need to speak about Rowan, Brett.’
‘Not now, Tiff. Let me take Rowan. If he wakes up, he’ll be the most difficult to move. If he starts crying, we’re done for. I’ll call Kate when I’m back at my car and see if we can get some help. Trouble is, I don’t know where we are. It’s some woodland; I’ve never been here before. We’re miles from anywhere.’
‘Okay, you take Rowan and call Kate. I’m going to try to get my limbs moving properly. If we can transport Callie and Jane between us, we can make a run for it. Screw David and Joanne, they’ll get what they deserve. Go.’
She listened as Brett made his way to the side of the car. The back door was open already, and she felt the gentle vibration through the bodywork of the car as he carefully moved it fully open.
‘Come on, gorgeous,’ Brett whispered.
In the darkness, she imagined Brett carrying their sleeping baby, all the time whispering to him and cradling him gently. She’d never seen David be so caring, and now she knew her husband wa
s the stuff of nightmares. He and his girlfriend had probably planned this all along. How could she have been so stupid?
She heard Callie speaking again.
‘Where’s man gone? Man! Man!’
Her daughter was treating it like a game of hide and seek. If she kept up the noise, she’d attract the attention of the Russians.
‘Brett? Brett? Are you out there?’
No answer.
‘Man! Where are you man?’
‘Callie, darling, it’s Mummy,’ Tiffany whispered. ‘Can you be nice and quiet like a good girl?’
‘Mummy? Where Mummy?’
‘Hush, Callie, nice and quiet now, my darling. Don’t wake up Jane.’
Tiffany knew she had to move. She gently pushed up the lid of the boot until it was half open and raised her head, trying to get a sense of what was going on.
They were in a woodland clearing, as Brett had said, and a group of people had gathered some distance away, illuminated by the headlamps from two cars. One was the small run-around car. Joanne must have followed David from the village hall. She didn’t recognise the other, a people carrier big enough to carry several passengers. She made out David’s silhouetted form; she’d recognise his posture anywhere.
Joanne was next to him, she was taller than he was. She’d often wondered what it felt like for someone so controlling to be with a woman who towered over him. Perhaps she’d got it all wrong; maybe Joanne was the strong one in their relationship.
There were four of the Russians, or whatever nationality they were: one woman and three men. There was a dispute; something about money. It always seemed to be about money.
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