Deception on His Mind (89 page)

Barbara raised a thumbs-up at Azhar, knowing no other sign to send him. She turned away from the marina then, and faced the tributary that would take them to the sea.

The speed limit was five knots. And in the late afternoon, returning boats filled with holidaymakers made the going treacherous. But Emily ignored the warnings. She fumbled her sunglasses to her face, braced her legs for balance, and took their speed up as high as she could take it and still continue to navigate the waterway in safety.

“Turn on the radio,” she told PC Fogarty. “Get on to headquarters. Tell them where we are. See if we can get a helicopter to sight him.”

“Right.” The constable set his weapons on one of the boat's vinyl seats. He began flipping switches on the console, calling out arcane letters and numbers. He pressed a switch on the microphone as he spoke. He listened earnestly for a response to crackle back.

Barbara joined Emily. Two seats faced the bow. But neither woman sat. They stood, the better to have a wider scope as they scanned the water. Barbara grabbed the binoculars and looped them round her neck.

“We need a reading for Germany.” Emily interrupted Fogarty, who was still shouting into the radio but bringing up no one. “The mouth of the Elbe. Find it.”

He turned up the sound on the radio's receiver, set the microphone down, and gave himself to the charts.

“You agree that's what he'll try for?” Barbara called to Emily over the boat's motor.

“It's the logical choice. He's got partners in Hamburg. He'll need documents. A safe house. A place to lie low until he can get back to Pakistan, where God only knows—”

“We've got sand banks in the bay,” Fogarty cut in. “Watch for the buoys. After that, set your course for zero-six-zero degrees.” He tossed the chart into the galley below.

“What's that?” Emily cocked her head as if in the need to hear.

“Your reading, Guv.” Fogarty went for the radio again. “Zero-six-zero.”

“My reading on what?”

Fogarty stared at her, nonplussed. “You don't sail?”

“I row, goddamn it. Gary sails. You know that. Now, what the hell's supposed to be at zero-six-zero?”

Fogarty recovered. He slapped his hand on the top of the compass. “Steer to zero-six-zero on this,” he said. “If he's heading for Hamburg, that's the reading for the first leg of the journey.”

Emily nodded and gunned the motor, sending a wake throbbing towards both sides of the channel.

The west side of the Nez was on their right; the tidal islands of that stretch of marshland called the Wade was on their left. The tide was high, but the hour was late for sailing, so the channel was congested as recreational sailors headed for their berths in the marina. Emily kept to the centre of the channel, pushing the speed as much as she dared. When they sighted the buoys marking the point at which the channel gave over to the greater channel that was Hamford Water and the outlet to the sea, she pushed forward on the throttle. The powerful engines answered. The bow of the boat lifted, then slapped against the water. PC Fogarty briefly lost his footing; Barbara grabbed onto the handrail as the
Sea Wizard
leapt into Hamford Water.

Pennyhole Bay and the North Sea yawned ahead of them: a sheet of green the colour of lichen, incised by whitecaps. The
Sea Wizard
shot towards it eagerly, Emily pushing ever more on the throttle. The bow hurtled out of the water, then slammed down against it with so much force that Barbara's unhealed ribs shot fire from her chest, up to her throat, and into her eyeballs.

Jesus, she thought. The last thing she needed was to beg out now.

She lifted the binoculars to her face. She straddled her seat and let its back support her as the boat jounced viciously. PC Fogarty went back to the radio, shouting over the roar of the engines.

The wind whipped them. Spray flew up from the bow in sheets. They rounded the tip of the Nez, and Emily opened the throttle wide. The
Sea Wizard
exploded into the bay. It hurtled past two Jet Skiers, and its wake tossed them into the water like plastic soldiers swept off a battlefield.

PC Fogarty had assumed a crouch in the cockpit. He continued to shout into the radio's microphone. Barbara was sweeping her binoculars across the horizon, when the constable finally roused someone on shore. She couldn't hear what he said, much less what was said in return. But she got the jist when he shouted to Emily, “No go, Guv. The divisional chopper's been called as back-up for exercises in Southend-on-Sea. Special Branch.”

“What?”
Emily demanded. “What the
hell
are they doing?”

“Anti-terrorist exercises. Been in the planning for six months, they said. They'll radio the chopper, but they can't guarantee it'll get here in time. You want the Coast Guard?”

“What
bloody
good is the Coast Guard going to do us?” Emily shouted. “D'you think Malik's going to surrender like a good boy just because they pull alongside and ask him?”

“Then all we can hope is that the chopper gets out here. I gave them our compass reading.”

Emily gave the boat more throttle in reply. Fogarty lost his balance. The carbine slid from the seat with a clank. Emily glanced back at the weapons. “Give me the holster,” she called. She slung it over her shoulder, one hand on the wheel. She said to Barbara, “See anything?”

Barbara scanned the horizon. They weren't the only craft on the sea. To their north, the rectangular forms of ferries made a squat line from Harwich and Felixstone harbours, stretching towards the continent. To their south, the Balford Pleasure Pier cast lengthening shadows on the water as the sun drew lower in the afternoon sky. Behind them, wind surfers cut colourful triangles against the shoreline. And before them …before them was the endless stretch of open sea, and hulking at the horizon of that sea the same bank of dirty grey fog that had hung off the shore for as many days as Barbara had been in Balford.

There were boats out there. In the height of summer even towards the end of the day, there would always be boats out there. But she didn't know what she was looking for, aside from a craft that appeared to be heading in the same direction as they were taking. She said, “Nothing, Em.”

“Keep looking.” Emily gunned the
Sea Wizard.
The boat answered with another wild leap from the water and another pounding return to the sea. Barbara grunted as her unhealed ribs took her body's weight. Inspector Lynley, she decided, would not be chuffed with the manner in which she'd spent her holiday. The boat rose, smashed, and rose again.

Yellow-beaked gulls soared above them. Others bobbed on the swells. These burst into flight at the approach of the
Sea Wizard,
their angry screams obscured by the roar of its engines.

For thirty minutes they held the same course. They powered past sailing boats and catamarans. They flew by fishing boats that sat low in the water, their day's catches made. They drew ever closer to that low grey band of teasing fog that had promised the coast of Essex cooler weather for days.

Barbara kept the binoculars trained ahead of them. If they didn't catch Muhannad up before they reached the fog bank, their advantage of speed would do them little good. He would be able to outmaneouvre them. The sea was vast. He could change his course, taking himself miles beyond their reach, and they wouldn't be able to catch him because they wouldn't be able to see him.
If
he reached the fog bank.
If,
Barbara realised, he was even out in the open sea at all. He could have been hugging the coast of England. He could have another hideout altogether, another plan set in place long ago should the gaff be blown on his smuggling ring. She lowered the binoculars. She rubbed her arm across her face, removing not sweat this time but a sheen of saltwater. It was, she decided, the first time she'd been cool in days.

PC Fogarty had crawled to the stern, where the carbine had slid. He was checking it over, adjusting its setting: single shot or automatic fire. Barbara guessed he was opting for automatic. From her coursework, she knew that the weapon had a range of about one hundred yards. She felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought that he might actually fire it. At one hundred yards, it was as likely that the constable would hit Hadiyyah as he'd hit Muhannad. A completely non-religious woman, she sent a fleeting prayer heavenward that one shot aimed well above his head would convince their killer that the police were pursuing him in deadly earnest. She couldn't imagine Muhannad surrendering for any other reason.

She returned to her watch. Stay focused, she told herself. But she couldn't keep her mind's eye from seeing the little girl anyway. Plaits flying joyously round her shoulders, standing flamingo-like with her small right foot scratching at her thin left calf, nose scrunched with concentration as she learned the mysteries of a telephone answer machine, brightly putting the best possible face on a birthday party with a single guest, dancing with happiness at the discovery of a near relation when she'd thought she had none.

Muhannad had told her that they'd meet again. She must have been bursting with delight at how soon
again
had actually occurred.

Barbara swallowed. She tried not to think. Her job was to find him. Her job was to watch. Her job was to—

“There! Bloody hell! There!”

The boat was a pencil-smudge on the horizon, rapidly approaching the fog. It disappeared with a swell. It reappeared again. It was on an identical course to theirs.

“Where?” Emily shouted.

“Straight on,” Barbara said. “Go.
Go.
He's heading into the fog.”

They roared onward. Barbara kept the other boat in sight, shouting directions, reporting what she saw. It was clear that Muhannad hadn't yet twigged that they were behind him. But it wouldn't be long before he realised that fact. There was no way they could silence the scream of the
Sea Wizard's
engines. The moment he heard them, he'd know capture was imminent. And the desperation factor would weigh in like a boxer.

Fogarty moved up to join them, carbine in hand. Barbara scowled at him. “You don't intend to use that thing, do you?” she shouted.

“Sure as hell hope not,” he replied, and she liked him for the answer.

The sea round them was vast, an undulating field of murky green. They'd long ago left the lesser pleasure craft behind them. Their companions remained only the distant ferries that were making for Holland, Germany, and Sweden.

“Are we still on him?” Emily shouted. “Do I need to correct?”

Barbara raised the binoculars. She winced as the jouncing boat rattled her ribs. “Left,” she shouted in return. “More to the left. And Jesus. Hurry.” The other boat looked inches away from the fog.

Emily guided the
Sea Wizard
to port. A moment later, she gave a cry. “I see him! I've got him!”

And Barbara lowered the binoculars as they roared closer.

They were some one hundred and fifty yards away when it became apparent that Muhannad had realised that they were on him. He rode a swell and looked back over his shoulder. He bent his attention to the wheel and the fog, since he couldn't possibly hope to outrun them.

He powered onward. The boat cut into the swells. Water spit over its bow in great froths. Muhannad's hair, free from the ponytail he'd worn since the first moment Barbara had seen him, flew about his head. And next to him, indeed so close that from a distance they looked like one person, Hadiyyah stood with her hands hooked into her cousin's belt.

No fool Muhannad, Barbara thought. He was keeping her close.

The
Sea Wizard
charged forward, climbing the swells, plunging into the whitecaps. When Emily had closed the gap between the two boats to forty yards, she decreased her speed and grabbed the loud hailer.

“Shut down, Malik,” she called to him. “You can't outrun us.”

He kept moving. Steadily. No decrease in speed.

“Don't be a goddamn fool,” Emily called. “Shut down. You're done for.”

No decrease in speed.

“Goddamn,” Emily said, loud hailer at her side. “All right, you bastard. Have it that way.”

She opened the throttle and advanced on the smaller boat. She closed the distance to twenty yards.

“Malik”—into the loud hailer again—”shut down. Police. We're armed. You've had it.”

He gunned the motor in reply. His boat shot forward. He swung the wheel to port, away from the fog. The sudden change in direction threw Hadiyyah against him. He caught her round the waist and lifted her quickly.

“Put the kid down,” Emily shouted.

And in a horrifying instant, Barbara realised that that's exactly what Malik intended to do.

She had only a moment to see Hadiyyah's face—stricken with terror where an instant before the joy of a boat ride with her cousin had been. Then Muhannad had her balanced on the edge of the boat. He threw her overboard.

“BLOODY HELL!” BARBARA
cried.

Muhannad spun back to the wheel. He swung the boat away from his cousin and directly towards the fog. Emily gunned the
Sea Wizard's
motor. And in a flash that seemed like an eternity of comprehension, Barbara saw that the DCI fully intended to give chase.

“Emily!” she shouted. “For God's sake! The girl!”

Frantically, Barbara searched the swells and found her. A bobbing head, thrashing arms. She went down, resurfaced.

“Guv!” Constable Fogarty cried.

“Fuck it,” Emily said. “We've got him.”

“She'll drown!”

“No! We've goddamn bloody
got
him.”

The child went down again. Resurfaced. Thrashed wildly.

“Jesus Christ, Emily.” Barbara grabbed her arm. “Stop the boat! Hadiyyah'll drown.”

Emily shook her off. She shoved forward on the throttle. “He wants us to stop,” she shouted. “That's why he did it. Throw her a life jacket.”

“No! We can't. She's too far away. She'll drown before it gets to her.”

Fogarty dropped the carbine. He kicked off his shoes. He was on the edge of the boat when Emily shouted, “Stay where you are. I want you on the rifle.”