The Crime Trade

38

For twenty-five minutes Tina followed him, first on to the A1, then down the Edgware Road in the direction of the West End. She kept well back, and traffic was heavy enough to allay any suspicion Trevor Murk might have that he was being followed. She kept the mobile on throughout the journey, feeding details of Murk’s movements to the control room back at the station, which then relayed them to the armed response vehicles and the members of the O’Brien murder squad as they converged on the route being taken.

As Murk came up to the top end of Baker Street, keeping to the left-hand lane, a message came through to Tina from control advising her that DCI Woodham had given strict orders that she was to remain at a safe distance from the suspect, and not to attempt to apprehend him. Armed officers were being deployed to do that. Tina acknowledged the message and swung into the middle lane, two cars back, only just getting through the Marylebone Road intersection lights as they changed from amber to red.

She acknowledged the message, but she wasn’t sure she could obey it. This was her collar. Her perseverance. She wasn’t a glory hunter, but she felt she deserved this one, and if she could take him safely and without unnecessary risk to herself, then she would do. There was no way she was letting Trevor Murk go.

She wondered what John would think of her actions. He’d be worried she’d get hurt — she knew how much he cared for her — but she also felt he’d understand that she had to do it. John was a solid guy, someone who preferred caution to jumping right into things, but, at the same time, he wasn’t a complete stickler for the rules. He knew when you had to take risks, to put your neck on the line. He’d done it before — had gone alone into a dangerous situation, ended up facing the wrong end of a gun and still come out unscathed and unbeaten, and with an important arrest under his belt — so he’d know why she was doing it. She could have done with him there with her, though. His quiet strength would have done a lot to calm her nerves.

The Megane’s left-hand indicator came on and she was forced to do a rapid lane-change, cutting up a white van in the process. Murk turned into Paddington Street and she followed, now only one car behind, conscious that her manoeuvre might have drawn unwanted attention to her. Trevor Murk might have been a cold-blooded murderer, but he was also fairly professional in his dealings, so would be on the look-out for people or vehicles acting suspiciously around him.

But it seemed he hadn’t noticed. He indicated again, and pulled into a side street next to a block of flats. Tina had to make a snap decision. Follow him and risk detection or keep on going and risk losing him? She plumped for the latter, carrying on for a few yards before flicking on her indicator and hazard lights and pulling up to the kerb. She cut the engine as the cars behind her beeped their horns, and gave her location to control, before running back towards the side street.

As she got to the corner, she saw the Megane turn into the entrance of an underground car park beneath the block of flats. ‘Bingo,’ she said, returning to the car and reporting this new information to control.

‘ETA for the first ARV is six minutes,’ said the voice of Sergeant Colin Brooking, the controller she’d been communicating with for the past half an hour. ‘Your orders are to wait until it arrives, Tina.’

‘Received and understood,’ she said, getting back into the car and performing a dangerous reverse manoeuvre that attracted more blasts of the horn from passing drivers, before turning into the side street and driving down past the entrance to the underground car park.

She parked up on some nearby double yellows and pulled a sign out of the glove compartment advising any over-zealous traffic wardens that she was a police officer on duty. Then, with an audible intake of breath, she got out and headed in the direction of the flats.