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Helen roared through the city streets, weaving in and out of the traffic.

Having been nervous and uncomfortable on arrival at Southampton Central, she’d left feeling exhilarated and energized.

After the distance and arguments of recent days, she had re-connected with Charlie, which Helen suspected was a profound relief to them both.

Just as importantly, Charlie was now running with the information she and Viyan had provided.

DC McAndrew was talking to Interpol to see if they could identify the mysterious Dutchman, whilst one of the new DCs was marshalling efforts to unearth the farm where the trafficked migrants were being held.

Charlie, meanwhile, was bringing Holmes up to speed, prepping the interview suite for Viyan’s arrival.

Although it would be an ordeal for her, the key thing now was for Charlie and Holmes to hear Viyan’s story first-hand.

It would not be easy, it would not be quick, but getting her evidence recorded and logged was critical.

Currently all the team had to go on, all the CPS had to interrogate, was Helen’s tall tale.

For the first time in weeks, Helen felt she had the wind at her back, powering through the streets towards the refuge.

For so long, she had been belittled, disbelieved, but now finally people were taking her seriously.

This sense of purpose, this sense of mission thrilled her, the way ahead now clear.

She would help Viyan through this process, ensure the bad guys were brought to book, then she would help reunite the young mother with her family.

And then what? Was it possible Helen could find a way to contribute and be a mother?

Was there a job in law enforcement that would allow her to make a difference without constantly putting her neck on the line?

Or would the role of motherhood be so all-consuming, so enjoyable, that she wouldn’t want to do anything else?

Helen didn’t have enough money to retire yet, but would it be so bad to kick back for a bit and enjoy her unsolicited good fortune?

Suddenly the future seemed alive with possibilities, the permutations endless, the opportunities dizzying.

Spotting traffic up ahead, Helen took a late decision.

She could obviously sail past the stationary traffic, but you could never be sure some idiot wouldn’t suddenly pull out, chancing an illegal stunt to reduce the delay, and there was no point taking any unnecessary risks.

So, instead, she used her local knowledge to cut down one back street, then another, then a third, eventually emerging within five hundred yards of the refuge where she’d secreted Viyan.

To her alarm, the quiet residential street was now a hive of activity.

Dozens of women milled in the street, some in their dressing gowns, whilst others walked back and forth, phones clamped to their ears.

And now Helen realized why. Beyond the throng, a fire engine was bullying its way towards the tall building, out of which dark smoke was billowing.

Helen’s blood ran cold. Her bike slowed to a crawl.

Desperately, she scanned the crowd for Viyan, but there was no sign of her.

Was she still in the building? Had she heeded Helen’s instructions to stay put?

If so, she might be trapped or passed out.

But what if she wasn’t? What if this unexpected fire was just a ruse to smoke her out?

Helen tried to dismiss this unsettling notion, yet the timing of the fire was unquestionably suspicious.

Was it possible they had traced Viyan here?

On cue, the manageress emerged from the throng of women, looking frantic and scared, as she hurried over to Helen.

‘It’s not my fault,’ Eloise breathed, tears pricking her eyes.

‘What do you mean? What’s happened?’ Helen demanded.

‘They must have broken into the basement, set a fire. I did try to stop them, but they pushed a gun in my face …’

‘Who? Who did this?’

‘Two shaven-headed guys,’ she gasped. ‘One of them had awful scars on his—’

‘Where are they?’ Helen interrupted tersely. ‘Where did they take Viyan?’

‘Out the back. There’s a small car park there …’

Helen didn’t linger for the details, ripping back the throttle and roaring away down the side of the building.

Abandoned boxes and bulky bin bags littered the narrow side passage, but Helen sped down it, bursting out into the small car park beyond.

Immediately, she spotted her charge. Viyan was once again in grave danger, Helen’s heavily scarred adversary from yesterday forcing the distraught woman into the back of a van with the aid of an accomplice.

Spotting Helen, Viyan screamed out in terror, but her appeal was brutally cut short, her abductors hurling her into the vehicle.

Her cry seemed to alert her assailants to the danger, the battle-scarred leader now clocking Helen’s arrival.

Making a split-second decision, he grabbed his accomplice and leapt into the back of the van himself, slamming the doors shut behind him.

The driver reacted immediately, spinning the van around and driving directly towards Helen.

She had only a moment to react, yanking the handlebars to the left to avoid a sickening collision.

She almost made it, leaping clear of the onrushing vehicle, only for the speeding van to clip her rear wheel at the last moment, catapulting the bike around.

Instantly Helen lost her grip, the force of the impact too hot to handle, and she felt herself flying through the air, before connecting sharply with the ground, skidding to a halt on the tarmac.

Surprised, but unharmed, Helen clambered to her feet.

She expected to see the van driving free and clear, but the contact with her bike had flummoxed the driver, the vehicle suddenly changing course, sliding sideways towards a parked car.

Tyres shrieked and a loud bang rang out, the right side of the van dented badly by the collision.

Spotting her opportunity, Helen sprinted towards the van, determined to get there before it moved off again.

She powered across the concrete, zeroing in on her prey, but at the last moment the van moved off once more.

Acting on instinct, Helen threw herself forwards, her fingers reaching out towards the departing vehicle.

This time her luck was in and she felt her right hand grip the van’s rear handle, fastening her gloved fingers around it.

She held on for dear life, even as the tips of her biking boots ripped across the tarmac, throwing her legs up and down in the air.

The van was moving fast now, speeding out of the car park and out onto the street.

Helen was being buffeted from all sides, but held on grimly, determined not to desert Viyan.

Reaching the corner of the street, the van swung sharply right to avoid the growing crowds.

Helen felt her world turn as her body swung dizzyingly to the left, her legs connecting painfully with the side of a parked car.

Still she didn’t let go, putting her left hand on top of her right, anchoring her to the van, as she tried to drag her legs upwards.

If she could mount the bumper, put a foot on the protruding tow bar, then she might save herself, riding the vehicle until it was forced to slow for traffic.

Suddenly, however, the world seemed to stop.

Helen had only a split second to process that the van had braked violently, before she was catapulted into the back door, her helmet smashing into the sheet metal.

Her left hand came free and as the van now roared off again and she felt her right-hand loosening, as she bounced along the road, her body slammed up and down on the rough tarmac.

Screaming, she tried to hang on, using every ounce of strength she could muster.

But the battle was lost, the buffeting too severe, and with a cry of defeat, Helen finally let go, her helmet striking the ground hard as she plummeted downwards.

Bouncing off the road, she managed to scramble to her feet, but the van was already some distance away.

Now her legs seemed to give way, as the world slowly span around her, and she slumped back down on to her knees.

Breathless, defeated, Helen stared after the retreating van. And it was as she was kneeling there, distraught, desperate, that she felt it. A hot stickiness on her left thigh, as the blood crept down her leg. And in that moment she knew .

Throwing back her head, ripping open her mouth, Helen let out a howl of pure agony.