HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Let’s get on the road then. Any updates from Gold?’

  Gold Command had also taken responsibility for leading the vehicle search. This included contacting every associate they could find for Joshua Haines via known friends and neighbours, social media and his school — any source that might know something about Josh, about where he was right now and, just as importantly, who he might be with. If they couldn’t get hold of him, maybe they could reach someone else in that car — assuming they were still together. Maddie had heard nothing. She needed to get back to her radio.

  ‘I’ve not been able to listen in. Vince should be able to give us an update.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it here, Rob. If anyone turns up, the housekeeper or whatever, can you take their details and pass them on to me straight away. And don’t let them in. You’ll be on your own for a little while.’

  ‘You do realise I’m not one of your detectives, Harry, right? I’m not even one of your coppers. I can’t be telling people to do anything. More importantly, I just don’t want to.’

  ‘I get that. I know it’s not ideal but we can’t spare anyone up here right now. I’ll try and get that rectified.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘I’m sure that will be enough.’

  Harry swept out. Maddie cast one final look at Dolton’s computer. The sullen grey box still consumed the middle of the screen and it still contained their deadline. She passed a grand-looking clock on her way out. They had twenty-two minutes.

  Chapter 36

  Josh Haines suddenly stiffened in his seat. They were on the M20 motorway and hadn’t long joined it again after coming off to drop his two mates home. It was just him and Ali left and they were just twenty minutes from home, twenty minutes from returning his mother’s blue Ford hatchback to where she had left it on the drive and walking away as if nothing had happened. He had even taken a picture on his phone so he could make sure it was in exactly the same place. He was doing 70 mph, bang on, careful not to speed, not to be erratic in his driving — nothing to stand out, nothing that might draw attention to him and the fact that he was some way short of being old enough to drive it legally. He was in the middle lane and in a stream of traffic. The inside lane had been concealing a marked police car, tucked in close to the front of a lorry. He was coming up to overtake it. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, he couldn’t brake now, he couldn’t move over either. His only option was to try and be inconspicuous, to continue smoothly past. There was no reason for them to even give him a second glance. He knew that he looked older than he was. He just needed to stay cool. He flicked his attention to the rear-view mirror. His eyes had been a little red and puffy but the effects of the cannabis had all but worn off. He took a deep breath.

  ‘Josh! The police!’ Ali had seen the car too. He looked over to her. She also moved to sit up straighter, her head fixed forward; she looked unnatural. Josh held in his breath and his mind rushed with what was at stake. Right now the fact that he was driving at fifteen years old was only half of a story completed by the significant amount of cannabis stuffed in the glovebox.

  His car slunk past. It seemed to take an age. He watched his speedo intently: it was stuck on 70 mph. He reckoned the police car must be doing sixty-eight. Finally he was clear. The stream of traffic he was in all moved over to the nearside, the same lane as the police car. Josh did the same. His eyes moved to his mirror. He was still pulling away, slowly but surely. He just needed to get out of sight and he would put his foot down a little more, get a little distance between them. There were two officers in the car. They didn’t seem to react and he continued to edge away. He let out his breath.

  The blue lights flicked on.

  ‘Shit!’ Josh said. ‘The lights are on! They want me to stop!’

  ‘Maybe it isn’t for us?’ Ali was hopeful, desperate more like. She spun in her seat to peer out the back. The police car had suddenly gained on them, the female cop in the passenger seat must have seen her movement and immediately pointed to the nearside. They flashed past a sign for an upcoming exit. Josh knew they wanted him to take it. The police car surged forward and pulled out. He snatched his head right as it pulled level. The cop was still gesturing for him to come off the motorway. Nervously, Josh gave a thumbs-up. The police car slunk back and took up a position close behind.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Ali’s voice broke with the tension. He met her panicked eyes for just a second.

  ‘I’ll get done! For the cannabis! I can’t get done!’

  Ali pulled open the glovebox. The clear plastic baggie of drugs was immediately on display. The police car moved back in behind them. ‘You have to pull over Josh! Maybe they won’t look in there.’

  ‘Of course they will!’

  ‘I’ll chuck it out the window!’

  ‘They’ll see, Ali! They’re right up my arse!’

  ‘Well, fine, then! What else is there?’

  Josh considered their options for a second. His panic-stricken mind settled on what seemed like the best one. He pushed the accelerator to the floor.

  ‘Josh, don’t!’ Ali squealed. It was too late. The car was already picking up speed; the police car seemed to drop away. Josh had seen the news and heard stories, they don’t pursue kids. He could lose them. This could still work out okay.

  * * *

  ‘Shit! I told you!’ Thomas Inge was driving the marked police car, his colleague Amy Moses was in the passenger seat. ‘I told you they would make off if we put the lights on!’

  ‘We had no choice.’ Amy had dropped the radio handset and raked around the floor to pick it back up. Thomas quickly checked the clock: 11.38.

  ‘Are the other units in position in front?’

  Thomas’s question was ignored. Amy was updating their situation on the air. He cursed. The whole force was out looking for this car but it seemed like no one had considered what could be done with it once they found it. The decision had been made to pull it over immediately. Units had been sent behind them to close the road off, they were going to isolate the car and call out the Ministry of Defence to deal with the threat of the explosives. They needed the car stopped and the kids away from it as early as possible. Thomas had voiced his concerns about putting the pressure on them, about making them panic, but Gold Command were convinced that a fifteen-year-old lad with no previous police record would immediately pull over at a police officer’s instruction. He could tell from the pause on the radio that they were back to not knowing what to do next. Amy spoke into the radio again to prompt a reply.

  ‘Zulu Three to Control . . . confirm you received my last? The vehicle is now making off. Two occupants, a white male driver and a white female front passenger. Driver matches the description for Josh Haines. The female looks to be the same age. Our speed is now ninety, that is nine zero miles per hour. The traffic is medium, the conditions are below freezing and the snow is now heavier but does not appear to be settled on the surface. At this time the risk assessment is medium.’

  Medium my arse, Thomas thought. He had never liked chasing cars, he thought he would, but he had seen some things: he had seen them end badly. He didn’t think he could cope if two fifteen-year-old kids lost it in front of him.

  ‘We need to back off. I don’t want to be putting him under pressure. It’s kids in there! We were supposed to have patrols in position already.’

  ‘I agree.’

  So did the radio operator. They would have taken advice from the inspector based at the FCR and the message transferred back was to ease off and to keep the car in sight. They were trying to get marked vehicles in front of it so they could box it in. They were promised an update on when the cars were in position. Thomas checked the clock again. They had twenty minutes. That was enough time to get a row of police cars in front and for the tactic to play out. As long as nothing went wrong.

  Josh Haines, it seemed, had a different idea. The blue Ford suddenly jerked left. It ran over the thick white line and
zigzag markings, kicking up a trail of dark spray as it went, careering up the slip lane. Thomas had to accelerate hard to be sure it stayed in sight.

  ‘Zulu Three to Control . . . vehicle is left, left at the Ashford slip. That is left, left at the Ashford slip — standby for direction of travel.’

  Thomas swore again. The slip led up to a busy roundabout. The blue Ford slowed enough for them to get closer, but it didn’t stop, instead it squeezed between two rows of cars waiting at a red traffic light to join the roundabout. Thomas heard the sound of car horns as it spewed out onto the bustling roundabout, clipping something hard enough for debris to scatter over the road after it. Thomas watched in horror as it looked to be going too fast to make the left turn, it rocked up onto two wheels but somehow made the turn. All four wheels planted back down on the tarmac. And then it sped out of sight.

  The police car was now at a standstill, loitering at the back of the two rows of cars, the blue lights reflected off every sign in the dark morning, the siren bounced off the stationary cars in front to whine back at them. When the Ford had pushed its way through, the two rows of cars had become untidy as each driver tried to get out of the way. It meant that there was no longer a way through. The noise and lights from the police car seemed to confuse the situation more: drivers were reacting by edging forward, closing the gaps even tighter.

  ‘We’re gonna lose them here!’ Thomas shouted. He beat the steering wheel as he tried to see through the gaps but couldn’t.

  The blue Ford was gone.

  Chapter 37

  Maddie pushed open the front door and almost collided with Vince coming the other way.

  ‘You okay, Vince?’ Maddie said.

  Vince glanced from her to where Harry was stood next to her. He looked to be struggling to get his words out.

  ‘I was just coming to get you. Rhiannon couldn’t get hold of you and called me. They’ve had a call in. Anonymous. They think it might be Grace.’

  ‘Grace has called in?’

  ‘No’. He shook his head, still struggling to get his words out. ‘Someone has called in. They think it might have been about Grace. It’s not a confirmed sighting, but Gold are convinced enough to send firearms to intercept. There’s no way they can be sure, not from what I heard—’

  ‘Vince!’ Maddie cut over him. ‘From the start . . . what’s happened?’

  Vince tutted. ‘The control room took a 999 call. It was from someone talking about a woman down at Dover Port. She’s through the border controls and waiting to get out on a ferry. Apparently this woman is anxious and she’s talking about setting off a bomb using her phone. She was overheard talking about how she’s done it before. The port have shut the front end but they can’t evacuate until we have control of her. They don’t want her to know anyone’s onto her — they’re worried it might push her to do it.’

  ‘They think the bomb is at the port?’

  ‘That’s their assumption. There’s not been a mention of where it is.’

  They got into the car, Maddie slipping into the rear seat. Vince started up and was already pulling away with Harry belting up in the passenger seat next to him.

  ‘Do we have a description? Informant details? Anything else?’ Maddie barked.

  ‘I don’t. I told Rhiannon I would get you to call her. She should know more.’

  Maddie already had her phone to her ear. It rang once.

  ‘Hey. You’ve had the update then?’ Rhiannon sounded tense.

  ‘An anonymous call about a woman at Dover Port threatening to set off a bomb on her mobile phone. Gold have put two and two together and come up with Grace. That’s about all I know.’

  ‘I can’t tell you too much more. I can only see what’s going on the log — it’s being run from elsewhere. It could just be someone having a mental health crisis.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘The reports are of a young woman acting odd, muttering to herself, that sort of thing. The informant dismissed her as crazy, but then she was challenged direct. She said she can detonate a bomb just by using her mobile phone. She’s telling people she’ll be making a call at noon. Then everyone will see. The log describes her as constantly checking the time and muttering to herself.’

  ‘Okay, can you mark up the log that we’re attending. I don’t want to draw attention to us going by calling up on the radio.’

  ‘You’re heading to the port?’

  ‘Yes. We can’t do anything more at the house.’

  ‘Do you think it’s Grace?’

  ‘It can’t be,’ Maddie said, but she knew her voice betrayed her.

  ‘You don’t sound so sure.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on. It doesn’t make sense for it to be Grace.’

  ‘There’s more going on the log — hang on.’ Rhiannon started mumbling and Maddie could hear the sound of a clicking mouse. ‘There’s a description come up . . . Dark hair, slim build, a loose hooded top and leggings, open jacket . . . and one arm in a sling.’

  ‘Okay . . . I guess that changes things. The certainly sounds like our Grace, doesn’t it?’

  ‘So what is going on?’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘I have no idea. We’re heading there now on flash. Hopefully I’ll get some answers soon.’

  * * *

  Grace tried to keep her head down. She increasingly found crowded places difficult to deal with and the coffee shop at one of the world’s busiest shipping ports was a hub of noise and movement.

  They had passed through the border controls easily enough. Viktor had held both their passports open and the bored operator had waved them through. Grace wasn’t even sure he had looked in the car. After the controls, the Port of Dover opened up to a huge mass of flat, grey concrete with vehicle traffic and people in high visibility clothing moving in every direction. Viktor seemed to know his way around, his confidence plain as he navigated the maze of white and yellow lines until they emerged onto a flat expanse of concrete, surely the size of twenty football pitches and divided up into narrow straight lanes. Viktor had taken them down one with a few cars parked at the far end. They were all in a line; it was the queue for the ferry. He had parked behind a high-backed van and the lanes either side of the car were largely empty. Grace had seen fifty or more articulated lorries parked in silent formation on the far right of the expanse. Directly in front was the huge blue-and-white ferry, its steel ramp reaching out like a forked tongue to rest on the hard standing. Traffic was moving down it in a steady stream. Each one announced their arrival on UK shores with a thump of metal on stone as they moved off the end of the ramp then turned right to filter away. The two huge docks either side of it were empty but she could see another ferry skulking silently towards it in the distance. The docked boat would be replenished and readied for the return journey to Calais. Viktor had told her that once they were in France they wouldn’t need to worry anymore. He had also told her that they had time for a coffee, that it would do her good. He had pointed to a building over to the right hand side of the loading lanes. She had declined initially, but it quickly became clear that he wasn’t giving her a choice.

  ‘I need to make call,’ Viktor said. They had just walked into the building that was signed up as Passenger Services Building West, and now he was keen to walk back out again. ‘You stand here. You do not move.’

  Grace tried to remonstrate, but he was already moving towards the door. They were still near the entrance. He had pointed to a space right next to the floor-to-ceiling glass window at the front of the building. She took her place. She looked out where Viktor stood in snow that was falling thicker and faster. His breath was visible as he talked into his phone.

  He came back in. His call had been less than a minute long. His face was flushed red with the cold. He blew into his hands.

  ‘You sure you not want coffee?’ he said.

  Grace shook her head. ‘The time, Viktor . . . I’ve done everything you said. Please, let me make that call. I’m coming wit
h you, I swear. I won’t make any trouble.’

  ‘I get coffee first. Patience!’

  ‘I’ve been patient!’ Grace snapped, but she backed down immediately. She was getting desperate. ‘Please, Viktor. Just let me call him now. What if I don’t get him the first time? He can be a nightmare with his phone. He doesn’t always take it out.’

  ‘Ah!’ Viktor clapped his hands together, suddenly beaming as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘In England, you say the fickle hand of fate. I heard this. I asked for this to be explained so I know what it means. I love this! Here it is . . . the fickle hand of fate is here! Your boyfriend was bad man. He was chosen. People died in tunnel — they were chosen. Maybe your father is not. You will have time to call. But say a word to one person and your father will know nothing. You understand?’