Saturday 5 February, 04:33
Loxton drove down the A-road, praying that she would be able to lose the attacker. She kept checking her rear-view mirror, but she saw nothing coming out of the lane behind her. Perhaps the killer thought she had a loaded firearm, or they’d parked a distance from the cottage and had been slowed down getting back to their car.
She tried not to think of Philip. She couldn’t help him now. How had the killer found them so quickly? Had they been followed?
She saw a petrol station up ahead. Should she risk it? It was four in the morning. There was no one else on the forecourt. She pulled into the station, driving around to the back of the shop so that no one could see her from the road. She pulled up next to an old dented Nissan Micra.
The teenage attendant appeared a few moments later, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. A frown lined his tired face. ‘You can’t park there. That’s not for the public.’ His voice faltered as he looked at her face, covered in grime and smoke, and he spotted the Glock 17 on the passenger seat. He backed off, putting his hands up.
She must look a sight in her pyjamas and coat with blood on her hands from when Philip had handed her the firearm. The teenager’s scared eyes didn’t leave the gun.
She wound down the window. ‘I’m a police officer. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, just give me your mobile. I need to make a call; it’s urgent.’
The attendant nodded dumbly, pulling out his phone and handing it to her. She could tell he didn’t believe that she was a cop, that he was frightened for his life. She took the mobile and turned slightly from him. He was no threat. She watched the corner of the building to see if any car lights pulled into the forecourt. A few cars passed by, but so far so good, and she sighed with relief.
No one would be able to see her parked behind the petrol station. There was CCTV here and a witness, and she hoped that would put the killer off pulling into the petrol station to search for her. Hopefully they’d think she’d kept driving.
She punched in Kowalski’s mobile number. ‘Dominik, I’m in trouble.’
‘What’s happened?’ Kowalski’s voice was strained.
‘Philip’s been killed and I’m in a petrol station in Kent. The safe house is on fire. I’m driving back to Walworth. I’ll meet you at your favourite café, then we can go back to Walworth station together.’
‘Shit,’ Kowalski said. ‘Okay, I’ll see you there.’
‘Don’t tell anyone else you’re meeting me there.’ She hated to think of her colleagues in this way, but she was convinced that one of them must at least be selling information to whoever was doing this. ‘I’m in a Nissan Micra, index M409 BNN, in case I never show.’ The teenager’s face dropped; she must have guessed right that it was his car. ‘Tell Winter I’m not going into police protection again. Fuck that. I’m not letting more people get killed because of me.’
‘Alana, you need to calm down. We’ll talk to Winter together.’
‘I need to get the fuck away from here. Get Kent police to go to the safe house. And I’ll see you at the usual. It should take me three hours max to get there.’ She hung up on him. She didn’t have time to explain things to him. The next few minutes could decide whether she lived or died.
‘Give me your car keys,’ she said to the attendant.
His face was stricken and he didn’t move.
‘Give me your keys.’ She held out her hand. He put his hand reluctantly into his pocket and handed her his car keys. She got into the Micra, taking the firearm and his mobile with her.
She wasn’t going to wait here. The killer had found her, despite her being in police protection. It could be that they’d followed her, but she had a growing suspicion that they had access to police databases, including special protection. They’d got Sarah in the middle of an operation and they’d found her in the safe house within hours. Or they’d somehow bugged her. She checked her coat pockets and inside the top one she never used she found a small black plastic fob-like device. Was it a tracker of some sort? Only other police officers had access to her coat. But then she remembered her door being off the latch. Suspecting someone had been in her flat. Could they have planted it then?
She took a photo of the device on the boy’s mobile and then threw it out of the car. She wasn’t going to wait for Kent police to arrange a firearms unit to come here to meet her. That could take twenty minutes, and who knew who would get to her first? She was going back to her own police station. Back to her team.
She wasn’t going to run anymore.