Private Royals

Chapter 37

‘Good God,’ Cook said softly, hitting the brakes hard as the traffic ground to a halt behind the mangled wreckage of Waldron’s truck and Knight’s smashed motorbike.

Morgan was already flying from the door.

‘Hooligan, ETA on the police?’ he shouted into the mic on his collar.

‘Ninety seconds.’

‘Jane! Stay behind the wheel!’ Morgan shouted. ‘We’ve got sixty seconds! We can’t get caught up with the police!’

He quickly moved about the scene, seeing the rear door to the truck’s cargo container open. A glance inside was all it took to confirm that it had been Abbie’s prison. There was blood on the floor, Morgan saw, but not enough to be fatal.

He then looked inside the cab. There was a bag there, a military-style backpack. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. Then he saw a crowd of people looking at the ground and taking photos on their phones.

He ran over to them, and there he saw the body. There was KA-BAR buried deep in the corpse’s meaty thigh.

‘Oi!’ someone shouted out as Morgan bent to retrieve the knife. ‘You can’t do that. We called the police.’

Morgan pulled the blade free. It came loose with a wet sucking sound. All it took then was a look with the bloodied knife in his hand, and no one challenged him again.

He glanced at his watch — twenty seconds until the police arrived.

He frisked Waldron’s body, coming away with nothing.

The Range Rover’s horn blared.

‘They’re fifteen seconds away!’ he heard Cook call.

Time was up. Taking the blade and the bag, Morgan sprinted to the Range Rover, throwing himself into the passenger seat as Cook jumped onto the accelerator pedal.

The car roared away, leaving the carnage of the scene to the arriving sirens of the Metropolitan Police.