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Helen kept her speed steady as she stalked the battered van.

She kept a sensible distance, several vehicles in between providing cover, and remained vigilant and cautious at all times, well aware that one false move would compromise her careful pursuit.

There could be no sudden moves, no running of the lights, if she wished to remain undetected.

The van continued its swift progress, making its way through the busy city centre and out into the northern suburbs.

Though the traffic was thinner here, Helen felt confident she had not yet been seen.

The driver would be relying on the limited visibility provided by his side mirrors and, besides, people tended not to notice bikes so much, their eye drawn to bigger vehicles.

Many’s the time Helen had pursued her prey unnoticed, appearing as if from nowhere at the crucial moment.

It had been a long time since she’d been involved in a serious pursuit, however, and as the adrenaline flooded her system, she had to admit to herself that it felt good.

Up ahead, the van slowed, its solitary brake light springing to life.

Indicating, it pulled off the main road, moving fast away down a quiet residential street.

Aware that the lights were about to change, Helen teased back the throttle, passing them as they blushed amber, before turning the corner.

The road ahead was graced with a number of speed bumps, which the driver took at speed, the back of the van hopping into the air.

Within her, Helen felt embers of anger stirring.

The men clearly had no respect for their charges, barking orders at them and imprisoning them in a windowless van.

Was this so they would have no idea where they’d been or where they were going?

Or simply to disorient them? It annoyed her to think of those poor women being tossed around in the back of the rusting vehicle with no thought for their safety or well-being.

By now they must all be feeling as nauseous as her.

Reaching the end of the road, the van cut right, speeding away once more.

Hitting the junction, Helen gave them a couple of seconds, then followed suit, keeping them in sight without appearing too obviously interested.

Helen had no powers to pull them over, no jurisdiction to question them, so her plan was simple.

She would follow them to their destination, hoping to uncover either their base or a place of employment – be it a brothel, nail bar or factory.

Then she could either investigate further or call the police.

Either way she hoped soon to be able to liberate the poor women trapped inside the speeding van.

The offending vehicle now cut left down another street, before seeming to double back on itself, heading in the direction it had just come from.

Instantly, Helen lowered her speed, concerned by these odd manoeuvres.

Had they spotted her? Were they checking to see if she was following them?

It was much harder for her to stay concealed on these deserted streets.

Was that why the van had pulled off the main drag in the first place?

Helen gripped the handlebars, tension seizing her.

This was her one lead, her only shot at finding out what had happened to Selima.

She hadn’t spotted her outside the money transfer office, but the fact that there was another Kurdish woman in tow, one who had clearly identified Helen as an ally, gave her cause for hope.

Perhaps she could shed light on Selima’s whereabouts, once those that had exploited and abused these poor women were safely in custody.

Only then, Helen suspected, would these terrified women feel free to talk.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Helen realized the van had come to a halt at the junction with the main road.

She dropped her speed instantly, then seconds later lowered it again, as the van remained stationary, even though the way was clear.

Should she come to a gentle stop behind it, waiting patiently in line?

Or would that alert them to her pursuit?

Might they even suddenly reverse into her if they had clocked her?

She was only thirty yards from the van now, the road empty and open between them, so she once more decreased her speed, slowing to little more than walking pace.

Instantly, the van driver seemed to react, pulling out abruptly and swinging left, forcing another car to break sharply.

Already the aggrieved driver was honking her horn, outraged by this dangerous manoeuvre, but Helen ignored her, ripping back her throttle and skidding out onto the main road.

She had clearly been spotted now, so the race was on.

The fugitives ahead had thrown caution to the wind, breaking the speed limit comfortably as they roared through a zebra crossing and traffic lights.

The signs for the ring road ahead made it plain where they were heading.

Once they were on the multi-carriage arterial, they could speed off in any direction, even fleeing Southampton if they wanted to.

Helen was determined not to let that happen, working hard to match their speed.

The wind pounded her, shrieking as it ripped past her helmet, but for her it was a sweet sound. She felt exhilarated, excited, alive .

With a squeal of tyres, the van skidded onto the slip road, then raced onto the ring road, provoking another volley of horns from panicking drivers.

Helen weaved in and out of the vehicles, barely noticing the angry hand gestures and shouted curses.

The van was driving at speed, but there was no hope of them outrunning her Kawasaki Ninja.

The question is what the fugitives would do now.

Would they try to lead her to some out-of-the-way place where they could confront her?

Would they try and shake her off through a series of outlandish, unexpected manoeuvres?

Or something more desperate? Helen just prayed that she could bring them in without provoking anything dangerous or disastrous – an accident at this speed might prove catastrophic for the poor souls imprisoned in the back of the speeding vehicle.

Seizing on a gap in the traffic, Helen shot forward, darting into the outside lane, before drawing level with the van.

Her move had not gone unnoticed, however, and the driver threw his vehicle to the right, careering directly towards her.

A savage impact was just seconds away, so Helen tugged hard on the brakes, riding up and almost over handlebars as the van sailed by, clipping her front tyre hard.

She now felt her world spin as the bike executed a vicious 360, before her tyres bit the tarmac and launched her forwards once more.

Out of the corner of her eye, Helen noticed the van lurch violently to the left, just missing the central barrier before roaring on its way.

Soon Helen was close behind once more, shaken, but determined, her bike apparently undamaged.

The steering on her bike felt heavy and a little uneven, but the engine was roaring and the tyres solid.

There was nothing to impede her now, confident of bringing the fugitives in.

They had tried to throw her off and failed, she wouldn’t let them have another go.

Her speedometer was tipping 100 mph, but Helen didn’t relent, aware that the next few minutes could decide the fate of all those trapped inside the vehicle, no doubt terrified and appalled by the ongoing chase.

She had to stop the van. She had to flush out those responsible for this awful trade.

And now, as she continued to roar forward, she realized that help was at hand.

She first noticed the high squeal of the siren, then spotted the blue flashing lights in her mirrors.

A police car was bearing down fast on the speeding vehicles, clearly intending to intervene in the dangerous chase.

Finally, Helen felt herself relax, confident that the van would not escape. At long last, the cavalry had arrived.

But her optimism soon turned to consternation as the pursuing police car pulled up alongside her, the traffic officer in the passenger seat gesturing at her angrily to pull over.

Alarmed, Helen shook her head, jabbing a finger at the speeding van ahead.

But the officer responded by shaking his head, directing her towards the hard shoulder.

Turning away, Helen ignored them, increasing her speed, but the police were ready with their response, racing ahead to block her off from the front, forcing Helen to brake sharply.

Her first instinct was to ease off her speed, circumvent the car and roar on, but now she clocked another police vehicle coming up fast in her mirrors.

Cursing, she changed tack, swinging her bike quickly onto the hard shoulder and coming to an abrupt halt.

The police car ahead followed suit and Helen marched swiftly towards it, tugging her helmet off.

‘Easy now, madam …’

The officer in the passenger seat had already emerged and was clearly alarmed by Helen’s determined approach. But his anxiety turned to confusion and surprise as he realized who he’d pulled over. Helen took full advantage of this, bearing down on him.

‘You idiot, you shouldn’t be pulling me over. You should be bringing in that van.’

She gestured angrily in the direction of her quarry, but even as the words left her lips she realized that the speeding vehicle was no longer in sight.

Had it darted off a nearby exit? Or just slipped in front of another vehicle, concealing itself from view?

Either way it was with a crushing feeling of disappointment and defeat that Helen turned back to the officer in question who stood before her, awkward and uneasy, his pen poised to fill out a Fixed Penalty Charge.