Simon Kernick - Deadline

They're coming.

She was out of time.

And then suddenly she was falling back off the bed, landing painfully on the floor with the chain uncoiling on top of her.

She'd done it. The metal plate had come free.

Bolt was driving aimlessly down yet another grimy terraced back street when the call came. The clock on his dashboard said 8.07. Only nine minutes since he'd got off the phone to Tina.

So much of a person's life seemed to him to boil down to those single, long, terrifying moments of anticipation when you're given the hugely important news you've been waiting for: the results of medical tests; exam results; a jury's verdict; the location of the man who's holding your daughter.

'Tina,' he said, his voice hoarse, 'what have you got?'

'The phone's still on. The location's been triangulated to an area around a farm called Woodlands in Crews Hill.'

'Where the hell's that?'

'Just north of Enfield, south of the M25.'

She gave him the address and he fed it into the car's sat-nav system. The distance was just over six miles from where he was now. He swung the car round in a rapid three-point turn so that he was heading back towards the main road.

'Thanks, Tina.'

'What are you going to do?'

'I'm going to go and check it out. If it looks like it's a lead, I'll call in straight away.'

'This could put me in huge amounts of trouble, Mike. They're going to know the info's come from me, and you know as well as I do that it's totally illegal to get an unauthorized triangulation.'

'If it comes to nothing, there's no way it'll ever get back to you. You've got my word on that. And if it does lead somewhere, I'll come up with a reason why I found out about Ridgers' location without mentioning your name. I really appreciate this, Tina.'

'I talked to Mo. Christ, I can't believe she could be your daughter.'

There was a silence then, because Bolt didn't really know what to say. Tina ended it by wishing him good luck.

'Call us as soon as you've checked it out,' she added.

'Sure.'

He cut the connection, and accelerated on to the main road, ignoring the blast of the horn from the driver he'd just cut up. All that mattered to him was getting to Scott Ridgers.

Six miles and counting.

Emma put the bed back in its original position so that it covered the hole in the wall and the brickdust on the floor, and waited in silence with the hood in her hands. Her elbow ached where she'd smacked it on the floor, and she felt sick and thirsty.

The movement upstairs had stopped a few minutes ago, and now she couldn't hear anything. She wondered what to do. The problem was, she might be mobile, but the fact remained that she was still handcuffed and locked in here, and the chain was still attached to her ankle, which was definitely going to slow her down if she did make a run for it. And the silence scared her, because silence was what she associated with the cruel one.

Back later, bitch.

Maybe he was sharpening his knife right now?

But she couldn't just sit there waiting for him to come and kill her. Otherwise all her efforts would be in vain. No, she had to do something. A plan formed in her mind. She'd hide at the top of the steps behind the door, and when he came inside she'd push him down them before he had a chance to spot her. Then she'd make a break for it. It was pretty lame as plans went, but it was the best she could think up at the moment.

She lifted up the ankle chain and started to get up from the bed. And then stopped as the key turned in the lock and the door opened.

She was too late.

Hurriedly, she got back on the bed and let the chain slip to the floor. Her hands were shaking and she felt fear running up her spine. Was this it? The last seconds of her life, in a dingy, cold basement miles from home?

Silence.

She made no move to put on the hood as she stared towards the staircase.

The light came on, and she squinted against its brightness.

'Emma,' came a voice from the top of the steps, 'it's me.'

She felt a surge of excitement. It was the smelly one. She was going to be OK.

'Hi,' she said quietly. 'I'm here.'

'Put your hood on, honey. OK? It's almost time to go home.'

She did as she was told, hardly able to believe her luck.

'Am I honestly going home?'

'That's right,' he answered in that wheezy voice of his. 'It's over. Your mum paid the money so you don't have to stay here any more.'

She heard him come close. Smelled him, too, the BO so strong now it made her gag beneath the hood. He put something down on the floor by the bed and she thought she heard water sloshing.

'Am I going to go now?'

'Very soon. We'll just get you ready. Then there'll be a little journey, and that'll be it. Back home to your mum. First I'm going to give you a little wash, though. So you're all nice and clean.'

She felt a wet sponge on her left arm. It made her feel cold and itchy. He ran it slowly up and down before starting on the other one.

'Bet that feels good, doesn't it?'

'You don't need to do this. I can wait until I'm home.'

'I want to do it.'

He moved her arms to one side and lifted up her T-shirt, rubbing the sponge on her tummy in small circles. Water dripped down towards the top of her skirt, and she heard him swallow. It was a really horrible sound, like something a frog would make.

'What are you doing?' she whispered.

'Just washing you, darling,' he replied, lifting her T-shirt higher. Swallowing a second time.

That was when she realized with a sickening feeling that the nightmare hadn't ended after all.

The driveway that led down to Woodlands Farm was situated on a quiet wooded road half a mile south of the M25, a simple wooden sign attached to a beech tree announcing its presence. There were no other houses in the immediate vicinity, making Bolt think that it would be an ideal place to hold someone without arousing suspicion.

The tension coursed through him. Scott Ridgers had motive; he'd worked at Andrea's place and then disappeared at the same time that Emma had gone missing. And as a fully fledged city boy, why else would he be out here in the back of beyond?

Not wishing to announce his presence, Bolt drove thirty yards further along the road before pulling up on the verge and manoeuvring his car as far into the trees as it would go. He killed the lights and got out. Through the darkness created by the thick concentration of trees, he thought he could just make out lights, but it was difficult to tell. According to the sat-nav, Woodlands Farm was set back at least a hundred yards from the road.

Knowing how short time was, he moved swiftly, making for the driveway. His plan was to approach from the front as quietly as possible and recce the place. If there was no sign of Ridgers, he'd break in. He'd taken the law into his own hands enough times today to worry about doing it again, and it was possible that his actions had already cost him his job.

The advantage, however, was that he now had nothing to lose.

Forty-nine

Emma knew what was coming. The dirty, stinking pervert wanted to have sex with her. Was going to have sex with her if she didn't do something about it.

A gloved hand touched her knee, and she gagged beneath the hood.

She had an idea. It was her only chance.

'Can you undo the handcuffs?' she asked, trying to make her voice sound as if she might be interested in what he was about to do to her. 'Then maybe we can…' She let the words trail off.

'You're not teasing me, are you?' he said, seriously. 'I don't like girls who tease me. I've had too much of that recently.'