Private Royals (Private 12.50)

He pushed the button.

‘Boss?’ he asked as the call connected.

‘Go ahead,’ Morgan answered, his voice thick with frustration.

‘I’m gonna give you bad news, bad news, good news, good news.’

‘Spit it out, Hooligan.’

‘Bad news number one is that Peter has left the building.’

‘What? Where’s he gone?’

‘More bad news first, boss.’

‘Jesus. Just tell me, Hooligan.’

‘I may have hacked into the security service’s CCTV network.’ Hooligan held his breath, as Morgan let out his.

‘You know that’s a terrorism charge if they catch you?’ said Morgan.

‘I know. And I take full responsibility, boss, but there’s a girl’s life at stake.’

‘You’re a good guy, Hooligan.’

‘I’m a great guy, boss. And now the good news – I think I’ve got the van. Flat-panel truck that’s had a fresh paint job. Really fresh, like Daz whites. It’s on Horseferry Road, about a kilometre south of Horse Guards.’

‘They must have taken the next bridge to the south.’ Morgan swore, and Hooligan thought he could hear the sound of the dashboard being hit in frustration. ‘We’re never going to make it through this traffic in time to cut him off, by vehicle or on foot.’

‘Well, that’s where the second bit of good news comes in, boss.’

‘Hooligan, you’re doing a great job, but please, just get it out.’

‘Sorry.’ Hooligan cleared his throat. ‘It’s Peter, boss. He’s on a bike, and he’s cutting through traffic.’

‘Can he get to Abbie?’ Morgan asked, suddenly more optimistic.

‘He can,’ Hooligan confirmed, checking his screens. ‘He’s going to intercept in one minute.’

CHAPTER 31

AS A MARRIED man Knight had been forbidden by his wife from owning a motorcycle, despite the amount of time it would have taken off his daily commute. In the years following her passing, he had taken up riding as a way to escape London, and to empty his mind of every painful thought as he concentrated solely on the road ahead.

He was in that zone now, weaving and cutting through traffic, the bike’s 850cc engine roaring as he opened up the throttle and pushed through the crawling vehicles.

Knight glanced at the GPS strapped to the bike’s handle. It showed two dots controlled from Private HQ by Hooligan. One was the position of the truck that was assumed to be the kidnapper’s. Another showed Knight’s own location. As he turned onto Horseferry Road, the two dots became one.

‘I see him.’ Knight spoke into the mic in his helmet. ‘I’m going in closer.?

?

‘Peter,’ Morgan’s voice came through the speakers in the helmet. ‘Just stay on his ass.’

‘How far are you guys from me?’

‘Too far. At least five minutes.’ He heard Cook curse.

‘Then I’m getting tight on him,’ said Knight. ‘If he goes off script and makes a move, I need to be in place to stop it.’