A low-slung vessel clung to the waves, approaching the beach to the left of their position. The soft sound of its engine reached her, and her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.
‘It’s them,’ said Gavin.
Kay took the binoculars he handed to her.
In the weakened moonlight caused by the cloud cover, Kay could make out eight figures clinging to the sides, hunkered down against the elements.
In the middle of the small but powerful vessel, she could make out two thicker-set figures who had crouched next to the central steering column, trying to disguise their presence.
The dinghy crested a large wave, its stern lifting into the air before crashing over the next.
A cry could be heard over the noise of the sea, and Kay’s heart went out to the young women, likely still in their teens and hundreds of miles from their homes and families, who had made the terrifying journey across one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world.
The engine revved once more, and then cut out as the dinghy was thrust towards the beach, the end of its voyage in sight.
‘Sarge?’ Gavin hissed.
Reluctantly, Kay handed back the binoculars, and bit her lip.
Harrison would have to time the apprehension of the vessel carefully.
Too soon, and the men piloting the craft would simply restart the engine and power away from the beach.
Worse, if they lost control or the engine died while the dinghy was mid-turn, it could mean disaster for everyone on board if one of the large waves struck at the same time, capsizing the boat.
Kay held her breath.
She had been reassured when Harrison’s team had set up their vehicles towards the far end of the beach and pulled out thermal blankets and first aid kits. It was evident they were taking no chances, but if the occupants of the boat couldn’t swim to safety in the perilous freezing water—
‘There they go,’ said Gavin.
Kay strained her eyes in the darkness, focusing in time to see the stern of the dinghy make landfall.
Seconds later, a dozen armed tactical response officers rose from their positions along the sand and raced towards it, yelling at the occupants to raise their hands in the air.
She edged forward, keen to be involved, then stopped as the radio clipped to her stab vest crackled to life.
Harrison’s voice broke through the vicious static. ‘All personnel not directly involved with the apprehension of the vessel, hold your positions.’
She heard Gavin emit a loud sigh.
‘Always the bridesmaid, never the bride,’ he grumbled.
Chapter Fifty
Kay squinted in the poor light.
Three of the Division’s four-wheel-drive vehicles bounced over the scrubby plants that bordered the rough track before driving across the sand, heading towards the crowd gathering around the beached dinghy.
High-powered lights fixed to the roof of each vehicle flared to life illuminating the scene, and Kay swore profusely as she was temporarily blinded, despite being nearly a mile away.
‘I can’t hear a sodding thing through this,’ Gavin muttered, and slapped the palm of his hand against the back of his radio. ‘So much for being organised.’
Kay glanced across at him as the radio hissed in protest, then unhitched her own from her stab vest. ‘Here.’
He took it from her, tucking his own down his vest, and tweaked the volume so they could listen to the reports from the other end of the beach.
Kay rocked forward on her toes, eager to be a more active part of the arrests.
‘All other officers are to maintain position,’ Harrison’s voice cut through the static. ‘We have Oliver Tavender in custody, but there’s no sign of Demiri.’
‘Dammit, he got away,’ said Gavin.
‘Shh. I’m trying to listen.’
She gestured to him to turn up the volume, but when he did so, it did little to improve the sound quality.
Frustrated, she scuffed her boots at the sand, obliterating their footprints.
She’d always preferred rocky beaches – places to scramble and climb over; fossils to discover; sea anemones that would cling to an outstretched finger if provoked.
Here, the landscape seemed more exposed and unforgiving – with nowhere to hide.
‘So, where are you, Jozef?’ she muttered.
‘Sarge?’
‘Nothing.’
She kicked at the sand a final time, then wandered over to where Gavin paced near the water’s edge.
She blinked to try to stop her eyes watering from the wind and tugged her cap harder onto her head, before she became aware of footsteps in the soft sand behind her.
She spun around, her hands held up in a defensive position.
‘Detective Hunter?’
‘Mr Webster?’
She checked over her shoulder to see Gavin fiddling with the radio, a loud curse emanating from the young detective before he held the radio aloft and shrugged.
‘This one’s dead, too.’
She turned back to Webster.
The elderly man wore a weather-beaten anorak over jeans, his feet encased in a pair of old work boots and a woolly hat pulled low over his ears.
‘Mr Webster, you need to return to your house for your own safety.’
He ignored her, and instead peered around her shoulder, his eyes flickering over Gavin before drifting to the scene beyond, then back to her.
‘I think there’s another boat,’ he said, his eyes troubled. He reached out for her arm, and led her a few paces away before pointing to the darkened beach beyond.
‘Over there. I left the house to see what all the commotion was, but as I was walking along the lane, I heard a voice call out, quietly.’
Kay’s heart rate increased, and she moved closer to the old man to try to see what he was pointing at.
‘Where?’
‘See that groyne post, about quarter of a mile long? Behind there.’
‘Gav?’
‘Sarge?’
‘Any luck with that radio?’
‘No.’ He spat out the word.
Kay pulled out her mobile phone, and bit her lip.
Harrison’s instructions had been clear – no mobile phones, for fear of the light from the screen or an errant ring tone alerting anyone to their presence.
She stared at the darkened screen a moment longer, then shoved it back into her vest.
‘Dammit.’
It would go against all her training, but she couldn’t
