driving on, it stayed about forty metres behind, shadowing them all the way. The rider wasn’t concealing himself, just keeping steadily on the same route as they headed further south. The woman must have been aware of it, but she didn’t comment.

The girl who was driving asked, ‘Why do we need to go all this way?’

‘Do I pay you to ask questions?’ the woman snapped.

Andy listened with half an ear, looking out for landmarks as they drove down the coast, the bike a constant, on their tail.

The fair-haired girl didn’t look like a threat, so it was him against the woman and the unknown biker. Time to change the odds.

They were close to Hornsea. He reached surreptitiously into his pocket for his phone. It would blow the operation out of the water, but he had to send for help.

But the woman was watching him. ‘I’ll have that,’ she said. ‘You’ll get it back.’

If he pressed the emergency button now, she’d see, and it could take as much as half an hour for his colleagues to locate the phone and get here. They’d still have time to disable the phone, get rid of him, and drive off. Reluctantly, he drew it out of his pocket and handed it over.

The woman looked at it. ‘Yours?’

He’d recently changed his screen image to one of Mia at her first birthday party, holding a balloon and grinning. Now he wished he hadn’t. ‘Yeah.’ He wasn’t discussing Mia with her, with any of them.

‘You’re doing this for your kid? Cute.’ Her mockery made him angry, but it gave him hope – she was talking as though the deal was on, as though he hadn’t been blown. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to get away with this.

She fiddled with the phone for a bit, checking his contacts, his messages – but there was nothing there that could worry her. To his surprise, she handed it back to him. She’d taken the battery out but given it back with the handset, and the tension released a bit more.

Focus, he told himself. If it’s the meeting with Stoner, then just go along with it. Play a bit angry about the way they picked you up. If it’s something else, then you get away. You can do this.

The road stretched ahead between flat, empty fields. He hadn’t seen a building for miles. If they kept going this way, they’d end up in the Humber Estuary.

His stomach gave a lurch. He didn’t like the thought of the estuary.

The lights caught a road sign as they passed a junction – one narrow lane meeting another narrow lane; Stone Creek Road – and then it was gone.

And now the car was slowing. Andy felt the bump and sway of rough ground. The car lights illuminated a low, red-brick wall. Beyond, still some distance away, he saw the gleam of water.

His fears were confirmed. The estuary. They had arrived.

The car drew to a halt, the bike pulling up behind it. The woman got out. ‘Doc,’ she said. There was no surprise in her voice. She’d obviously known all along who their shadow was. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to join us.’

The biker, Doc, grinned at her as he stretched. ‘Thought you might need me.’

Andy was caught off guard. This was Doc? Doc was one of the dealers he’d been trying to contact for weeks – and now it turned out he’d known the guy all along. Doc looked relaxed and affable and just for a second, Andy thought it was going to be OK… But then he caught a glimpse of the woman’s face. One look at her hungry, avid expression told him he all he needed to know.

His cover was blown and they’d decided to get rid of him.

He heard the clunk of the central locking system being switched off and reached for the car door to get out. Now he had to bring all his training into play. He pulled himself slowly out of the car, mapping in his head the location of the people around him.

Doc, standing behind him; the woman, moving a bit too eagerly round to his side of the car so he’d be boxed in; the girl still sitting in the driver’s seat. And somewhere around, this other guy, this Stoner, might be waiting. He was outnumbered – surprise and speed were the only things that would save him.

Make a plan. Now.

In front of him, dimly lit by the moon, was an inlet. Andy could see small boats pulled up in the mud and make out the name painted on the bows of one: Joie de Vivre. It was the perfect place to bring drugs in. Small boats, going in and out of the estuary, never going far afield – who’d even take a second look these days when the coastguard had been cut to nothing?

He’d had no idea this place even existed. This was information he needed to pass on – if he could.

Surprise and speed. Behind him was the bridge they had just crossed. That was the way back to the road, and it was the way they’d expect him to go. Opposite him on the other side of the car, there seemed to be nothing but a deep tangle of undergrowth.

But there was a fingerpost.

That meant there was a path. There had to be.

His few options raced through his mind. Over the bridge and into the water? The tide was coming in. He’d drown in the currents and the lethal mud. That way was closed. The fingerpost? It would be a massive gamble. Any path might be too overgrown to follow. Back along the road? They’d be expecting that and they’d try to stop him, but it looked like his best bet. He’d have to move fast and keep going.

He took a second quick look round. He’d have one chance, and he’d have to get it right.

But there was a man standing on the bridge. Andy’s way was blocked. Then the man turned, and as

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