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Charlie stared at Helen in disbelief. Things were moving at lightning speed this morning and she was struggling to keep up.

‘You’re sure she was brought to this country by a Dutch trafficker?’

‘Yes,’ Helen insisted, impatiently. ‘She got to know this guy pretty well on their journey to the UK. He’s about six foot one, dark curly hair, muscular build, early forties. She even knows what kind of cigars he smokes – Royal Dutch in case you’re interested …’

Charlie was swimming in the detail, Helen’s urgency prompting her to offer up all her information in one seemingly never-ending stream. Gathering herself, she flipped open her file, pulling out a copy of the grainy CCTV still.

‘Could this be him?’ Charlie asked eagerly, showing it to her former colleague.

‘Possibly,’ Helen said cautiously, studying the image. ‘She says he definitely has tattoos on his right arm, one for a football team of some kind, the other with a woman’s name on it, Suzanne, I think she said.’

Charlie felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, that familiar prickle of excitement which always accompanies a major breakthrough.

‘Viyan will be able to tell you more when I bring her in later. I’ve asked Harika Guli from the Kurdish Centre to join us, as Viyan’s English is pretty basic.’

‘But according to Viyan, he’s still in the country?’ Charlie asked urgently.

‘I can’t say for certain, but he was still on site when Viyan left for the hospital last night, the container still being filled, so it’s a fair bet he’s here.’

‘We can check last night’s records for Southampton, well, for all the major ports …’ Charlie responded, her mind whirring. ‘And it’s definitely medical waste he’s transporting?’

Helen nodded.

‘That’s the way this thing works. He brings illegals in, takes hazardous waste out. I’m guessing whoever’s behind all this charges a healthy fee for disposing of the medical waste, given its dangerous nature …’

‘And then he probably dumps it as fast as he can when he gets back to Holland.’

Helen raised an eyebrow in weary agreement.

‘Odds on they’re paying their workers a pittance too, so they must be making thousands,’ Charlie added, her mood dark.

‘It’s the backbone of the local economy,’ Helen replied. ‘They do all the jobs that no one else wants to do, and the gangs get fat off the profits.’

‘Well, hopefully we can take one of them down today. Did Viyan have any idea where she was being held?’

Helen shook her head.

‘Somewhere east of the city. A remote site deep in the countryside with significant waste disposal capacity. I’d set half the team to run the rule over rural properties in that area, and the other half to finding this guy.’

Helen stabbed the picture of the Dutch trafficker.

‘You’re looking for a Scania truck, registration plate R 945 DX. My guess is he might try to leave today, given Viyan’s escape last night. If you’re quick, if you get Border Force on side, then I think you’ve got a chance of bringing him in today.’

Charlie couldn’t help but smile. It was a throwback to times past, Helen running with a case once more, exhilarated, hot on the scent.

‘Can’t stop yourself, can you?’

‘Sorry?’ Helen replied, momentarily confused.

‘I mean, look at you. You’re supposed to be an ordinary civilian, doing ordinary civilian things. Instead, you’re stalking the bad guys, gathering evidence, pulling off daring rescues, constantly putting yourself on the line, despite my explicit advice to take it easy …’

Helen waved this notion away, clearly not wanting to go there, but Charlie wasn’t prepared to let it go.

‘Why don’t you just admit it, Helen? You miss this place, you miss the thrill of the hunt.’

‘I miss you,’ Helen agreed. ‘The rest I can take or leave.’

‘Rubbish, it’s in your blood, always will be.’

Now Helen seemed to falter, as if uncertain how to respond, so Charlie pressed home her advantage.

‘Why don’t you come back?’

‘Charlie, please …’

‘I mean it, Helen. I’m trying here, God knows I’m trying. But I’m not a natural leader, I can’t fill your shoes. Honestly, I’m not sure anyone could .’

‘That’s nonsense. Don’t let Holmes grind you down,’ Helen interrupted sternly. ‘You’re ten times the police officer, ten times the leader she’ll ever be. Your instincts are good, you’ve experience and you care, Charlie, you really care. That will always be your greatest asset.’

‘Maybe,’ Charlie replied dolefully. ‘I’m just not sure I’ll ever be what they want me to be, what they need . Whereas you … you’re a natural, this is what you were born to be.’

‘No.’

Helen’s tone was firm, decisive. Taken aback, Charlie stared at her old friend, surprised to see real steel in her expression.

‘I’m done here, Charlie, I’ve made up my mind about that. But you have years ahead of you, during which you will blossom into an officer who will eclipse me and everything I’ve done. I believe that with all my heart, but you need to believe it too.’

‘And you?’ Charlie asked, evidently disappointed by her robust response.

And now once more, Helen seemed to hesitate.

‘Well, I … I’ve got other priorities now.’

‘You mean …?’ Charlie responded, nodding at Helen’s stomach.

‘Something like that. I mean, I don’t really know what I think, but maybe … maybe it is the right thing for me. The right time. God knows, there’s probably never going to be another chance, so …’

‘Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m very pleased for you.’

Stepping forward, Charlie folded Helen into a hug, pulling her close. For a moment, it was as if the distance, the difficulties, evaporated as swiftly as if they’d never been there at all. Her eyes brimming with tears, Charlie held Helen to her, adding:

‘You deserve a bit of happiness.’