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This was it then. The moment of truth.

Charlie watched on, tense and expectant, as the truck moved purposefully towards them.

Visser was stuck in the main freight thoroughfare now, queuing lorries on either side of him forming a channel from which he could not escape, his vehicle hemmed in on all sides.

So far the seasoned trafficker seemed unaware of the danger, hurrying towards them as if eager to be on the ferry and heading home.

But Visser would be going nowhere today, the assembled officers from MIT and Border Force would make sure of that.

‘Team A, stand by, please, over.’

‘Standing by, over,’ came the crackled response.

Turning to her own unit, who were concealed nearby, poised with stingers and a mobile roadblock, she raised the radio to her lips once more.

‘Team B, stand by, over.’

‘Ready when you are, boss,’ came DC McAndrews’ excited reply.

Finally, she cast an eye towards the pair of patrol cars concealed behind the dock buildings, their engines humming, radioing the drivers quickly to ensure they were ready for action.

Satisfied, Charlie turned her attention back to the lorry, which was maintaining its healthy speed.

She and her team were ready to receive Visser, the important thing now was to cut off any chance of a retreat.

Such a course of action seemed highly unlikely, as he would have to reverse some two hundred yards up a very narrow corridor, but it wouldn’t do to take any chances. There was too much riding on this.

‘Team A, it’s a go. Repeat, it’s a go …’

A combined team of MIT and Border Force officers sprang into action, appearing at the entrance to the corridor, some fifty feet behind the advancing lorry, laying down stingers before sliding the heavy mobile roadblock into place, a weighty and effective insurance policy.

Curious, Charlie returned her attention to the speeding truck, keen to see if Visser had spotted this first move by his pursuers.

But the sun was strong today, glinting wickedly off the windscreen, rendering it impossible to clock Visser’s response.

There seemed to be no marked reaction to the sudden burst of police activity, the lorry maintaining its brisk pace as it swept towards them.

Surely he would have to slow soon to avoid having to brake sharply at the last minute, a manoeuvre which might send him skidding dangerously into the embarkation zone.

He was certainly driving punchily, even recklessly. Just how keen was this guy to get away?

And now Charlie felt her first shiver of alarm.

He was going to stop, wasn’t he? Initially, she’d put his concerted speed down to a desire to flee Southampton.

Now she wasn’t so sure. The lorry thundered on towards them, seemingly oblivious to the stop sign at the end of the lane, veering slightly off course now as it did so.

Had Visser lost control of the steering?

His truck had drifted ever so slightly to the right, moving perilously close to the neighbouring line of vehicles.

Charlie held her breath as it got closer and closer to the idling lorries, before a shriek of metal announced that his truck had clipped one of them.

Glancing off it, the lorry righted itself, before drifting to the left, nudging off another lorry, this time taking the wing mirror clean off.

What the hell was happening? Was he panicking? Drunk? Was it possible even that he’d passed out? Whatever the reason for his erratic driving, he was now bearing down on the end of the narrow lane, seemingly with no intention of stopping.

‘Team B, go, go go …’ Charlie shouted into the radio, suddenly alarmed beyond measure.

Emerging from their hiding places, DC McAndrew and her colleagues threw out the stingers, even as their Border Force colleagues wheeled out the temporary roadblock.

Behind them the two patrol cars pulled up sharply, completing the barrier.

There was no way out for Visser now and turning back to the vehicle, Charlie expected, hoped, to see a reaction, but still the massive articulated lorry hurtled towards them.

‘Back, back, back. Everybody back …’ Charlie screamed.

What the hell was Visser thinking? If their intel was correct, he had a huge shipment of hazardous waste on board.

Did he think that that would somehow buy him passage, that the threat of a collision would force them to retreat?

Surely not, it was madness. Was he trying to go out in a blaze of glory then?

That also seemed unlikely – Visser was experienced, canny, a survivor.

What then was going on? What was his game plan here? Had he somehow not seen them?

Taking a snap decision, Charlie stepped out into the lane, warrant card raised in one hand, gesturing frantically with her free hand for him to stop.

But still he came, cannoning off another vehicle as the heavy truck bore down on her.

Shouting in frustration, Charlie leapt out the way just in time, buffeted savagely by the sidewind as the vehicle tore past her.

Stumbling backwards, she nevertheless managed to stay upright, craning round to follow the vehicle’s progress.

The lorry roared over the stinger, its tyres hissing as the air was punched from them, before slamming into the roadblock.

The heavy metal obstacle crunched into the front of the cab, dramatically slowing its progress, as the lorry reared up in the air.

Such was its velocity and power that the truck now crested the barrier, smashing down heavily on the other side, before crashing to a stop into the awaiting patrol cars, bending metal and shattering glass.

Her heart in her mouth, Charlie raced towards the savage collision, relieved to see that the startled occupants were already emerging from the patrol cars, shaken but clearly unhurt.

Hurdling the mangled roadblock, Charlie raced to the stationary lorry, fizzing with anger.

How dare Visser put innocent lives at stake in his desperate attempt to escape?

How far gone was he? Pulling out her baton, she jumped up onto the cab, seized the passenger door and threw it open.

‘Right, you piece of sh—’

The words died in her mouth. Incredibly, the cab was empty.

Stunned, Charlie tried to process what she was seeing.

A football scarf had been tied to the steering wheel, the other end secured to the headrest of the empty driver’s seat.

Beneath this, a long steering lock had been jammed up against the accelerator, ensuring the gas remained pressed firmly down.

Visser was not blind to the threat posed by Charlie and her officers, nor was he minded to go out in a suicidal blaze of glory. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He intended to escape.