Page 100

She sprinted across the tarmac, racing towards the docks.

Behind her, Emilia could hear the angry shouts of the Border Force officials, but she ignored them, confident that she had enough of a head start to evade them.

Having confused the immigration officials by jogging up to the freight terminal without a vehicle, she’d startled them still further by ducking under the barrier and making a run for it.

She’d no doubt have to answer for her trespass at some point, but right now her sole focus was getting to the scene of the crash.

What on earth had happened? Was her nemesis even still alive?

Or had Emilia been robbed of her sweet moment of revenge at the eleventh hour?

She’d parked up at the entry to the freight terminal and was waiting impatiently for news from Charlie when she heard it.

A cacophonous eruption of shrieking metal and shattering glass.

Instantly she knew it was Visser. That there had been an almighty collision.

The only question now was with what? Or perhaps with whom?

Alarmed, Emilia had abandoned her vehicle and taken to her heels.

Now all thoughts of waiting evaporated, she had to know if anyone had been hurt, or God forbid, killed. She had to know what had gone wrong .

Racing past the parked lorries, Emilia searched desperately for the site of the collision.

Already, surprised hauliers were emerging from their vehicles, concerned no doubt for the people involved in the crash, but also perhaps for the impact on their departure time.

As a group they seemed to be descending on the main embarkation point, so bursting past them, Emilia sprinted in that direction.

What on earth would she find when she got there?

When she’d spoken to Charlie earlier, everything had seemed so simple, so straightforward.

And when she’d watched Visser pull into the docks, chatting amiably with the immigration officials, everything had appeared settled in their favour.

He had walked into the trap and would shortly be in police custody, destined to answer for his many crimes.

But as Emilia rounded the final lorry in the long snake of freight traffic, she saw instantly that this would not be the case.

The mangled remains of the truck’s cab was pressed up against two badly damaged police cars, the lorry’s dangerous cargo jacknifed behind, the connecting axel having warped on impact.

It was an impressive, yet deeply worrying sight, several tons of reinforced metal crumpled and destroyed, not to mention two police cars damaged beyond repair.

As she tore towards the scene of devastation, Emilia’s feet crunched on endless shards of broken glass, her fears rising with each passing step.

Surely Visser couldn’t have survived such a savage impact?

Had the mad bastard chosen death before dishonour?

But even as this unpleasant thought landed, it was instantly dispelled.

The breathless journalist had expected to see police officers and Border Force officials climbing all over the vehicle, trying to extract Visser, attempting to make the lorry safe.

But to her surprise, she now saw that the assembled law enforcement officers were fanning out, some charging up the empty corridor between the parked lorries, others sprinting off in the direction of the docks, radios clamped to their lips, as they cast about them desperately.

It couldn’t be, could it? The fleeing Dutchman couldn’t have escaped after such a violent impact.

It seemed impossible and yet, as Emilia’s eyes met Charlie’s, she knew that she was right.

Somehow the trafficker had wriggled out of the trap that had been laid for him and now looked set to evade justice once more.

Emilia burned with anger and frustration, her plan in tatters.

How had he escaped? How had he slipped through their fingers?

And where the hell was he now?