Chapter 11

Dmitri looked at the hotel and then at his companion. "If she was here then she not moving fast," he said in his accent and then spying a Police officer in the corner of the car park suggested that they leave in Russian.

Jaroslav's Police contacts had told him that she had been spied in the particular hotel and Dmitri had hotfotted it down the motorway at unreal speeds to be stopped at a Police cordon at the remote hotel. He was not allowed to go any further unless he was a guest and didn't want to draw attention to himself, his partner and the car.

Andrei ran his hands through his hair and nodded, walking to their Range Rover. He would have quite liked to have a look through the room but it was sealed off for Forensic examination and the photograph that some guy had taken was most definitely not available.

He pulled out a map of the local area and then looked at Andrei. "She left. We know that. She not there, she stole car. Where would she go?"

"Motorway?" Andrei suggested and Dmitri shook his head.

"No. She not going anywhere fast. She had cars and she not moving quickly. She's still local," he said and cleared his throat. "She in next town or two."

"Worcester? Stourport? Droitwich?"

Dmitri cleared his throat again; the cough lozenges were not doing him any good and sucked in air through his teeth. "She'll steer clear of camera," he muttered and licked his lips. "Worcester then Evesham. She want go South but do so slowly."

Andrei hummed, glancing at the map. "She not been found yet. She get shock. Maybe she drive cross Wales."

Dmitri snorted. "We go Worcester," he said firmly and started his car. He had no idea where Emma was and she had had two hours to lose them, more than enough time to put 150 miles between herself and the hotel but he was sure she was within five; he just couldn't explain exactly why.

Andrei answered the phone that rang and he passed it to Dmitri. "It's the boss, sir."

Dmitri picked up the phone and cleared his throat. "Scotland," Jaroslav barked. "Oliver is up there."

Dmitri looked at Andrei and licked his lips. "She's gone from here, no leads, boss."

"Get your fucking arse to Edinburgh," Jaroslav ordered.

"Yes boss," Dmitri replied and looked at Andrei. "We go to Edinburgh; Oliver, he there."

Emma sat down in the sparsely decorated surroundings and felt the firm seat-cum-mattress. It was bare and basic but what did she expect given where she was? She sat down and stopped to think about the previous hour, it seemed so unreal.

Emma had taken the car out of the hotel and into the town. She had found the blue lights and siren meant she could speed past the traffic at incredible speeds, and even had a marked Police car move out of her way as she shot out of the town and towards the county town of Worcester.

She had no idea what she was going to do in Worcester; there was a train station possibly and she wanted to get out of the car as soon as possible. It did no good to be in a vehicle that the Police would know the make, model, colour, registration plate and possibly be able to track the location of. She at least turned the sirens and blue flashing lights off to not draw attention to herself, but the speedometer barely dropped below 95mph and the car strained itself as it ate up the miles.

Worcester was much smaller than she imagined, and after she had queued up to traverse the only bridge across the river she abandoned the vehicle at the train station before fleeing into the town.

She reasoned that if the Police found their car at Worcester station then they would focus their attentions on a possible rail journey and not a future trip by car. It was getting to evening and there would be a finite number of trains out of the small town; she could end up being trapped if they knew she was on a train.

She headed back towards the river, she wondered about seeing if she could get a taxi ride to the South Coast but then thought it would be risky. By the following morning her escape from a local hotel would be all over the papers and it was nearly 7pm already.

She was crossing the road absent mindedly when she heard a siren and groaned. The Police car was coming straight for her and she dived out of the way, as the car screeched to a halt. For the second time in two days, she had been run over but this time by a Policeman!

She closed her eyes, waiting for the handcuffs to be locked onto her backs when a junior officer scrambled out of the car. "You fuckin' tit, you've run 'er over."

"Well I didn't see her there," came the response from the young man. "There is a zebra crossing over there. I didn't expect her to be in the road."

"You've always got to expect the unexpected," he was patronisingly told.

Emma slowly got to her feet, and pulled her hat down; they hadn't recognised her immediately and the two officers came running over. "I'll call an ambulance."

"No," Emma cried. "No I am a fine," she added in a more relaxed voice. She pointed her toes and stretched her ankle; it might be bruised where she landed on it, but the pain was nothing compared to ten years in prison.

"Listen love, we better get you checked out."

Emma shook her head. "No, you didn't hit me, honestly thank you but I am fine."

The officer stared into her eyes, and Emma became aware of a small crowd either side of the street. "OK well I need to give you a form in case you wish to make a complaint."

"I don't," Emma said quickly and then chastised herself. Her anxiousness was drawing attention and suspicion to herself. "I mean, he looks a good lad. And I was daydreaming as I was crossing the road," she added and the officer pulled out a notebook from his piece of paper.

"I need your name and address."

Emma hesitated. "Amy," she cried. "Amy Wallace."

"And your address?"

"I'm not local, I'm here on a trip."

"Oh," the officer said, and glanced at his companion.

"It's 18 Amsterdam Place, Stoke," she said, making up an address as quickly as she could. "But I am fine, look." She wiggled her ankle and then stretched her leg. "Thank you, but I need to be off."

"We can give you a lift," the officer offered but Emma shook her head.

"I'm fine." She got to the edge of the road and the officer called out.

"Wait!" Emma took a deep breath and turned around in trepidation, only to see the officer hand her a piece of paper. "Just in case."

"OK," she muttered taking it and disappeared from the street as quickly as she could. She walked down the back streets and appeared in a cul-de-sac and swore; there was just the canal at the end and she looked around for a bridge.

A woman was navigating a small boat and Emma stopped to watch; could she take a boat down the river: they weren't fast but she would be moving. Her musings were interrupted when the woman threw her a rope. "Hold that love."

Emma grabbed hold of it immediately and pulled the boat in, slipping on some wet stones that caused a flash of pain through her ankles. She swore and the woman looked up. "I'm fine," Emma said pre-empting the question. "I got knocked over earlier; ankle is still a bit sore."

The woman peered at Emma. "You look like you need a cuppa." Emma went to speak and she cocked her head. "You're not local, are you?"

"Cheshire," she replied and was a little annoyed that her roots that she had always tried to hide had obviously slipped when she swore in her regional accent.

"Long way from home," the woman said and jumped onto the shore to tie the boat up. "I am just stopping for a breather then head upstream for a couple of hours." Emma hesitated the woman gave a wry grin. "Come on, have a cup of tea."

She held out her hand to Emma and introduced herself as Margaret. Emma nearly slipped on the boat, and wasn't sure where she should be going but getting out of sight until darkness fell mightn't be a bad idea she reasoned. "Amy," she lied, using the same false name gave the police officers and grabbed hold of the boat railings to stop herself from sliding about.

Margaret held open the hatch door, and Emma stepped down to a small seating area opposite a kitchen. Margaret put a kettle on a stove and turned to face her, watching as Emma slipped off her backpack and put it on the seat next to her.

Emma glanced at the seat to see a pair of discarded underwear. "Sorry," the red-headed middle-aged woman replied, and threw them into her bedroom. "I got changed in this room." Emma shrugged.

"It's nice," she muttered and silently liked the drawn curtains that prevented anyone from seeing where she was. "It's sort of, compact."

Margaret smiled, her waterproof trousers and red T-Shirt marked from her day on the canal. "Where are you off to?"

"Back up the canal. Towards Birmingham way. It's a long way, but I like to get away from it. It's only a few hundred quid to hire for the week and is pretty good getaway from it all." Emma nodded and the woman pointed down the boat. "I'll show you. Have you ever considered travelling on the boat?"

Emma grunted. "No," she admitted and the woman poured the water into the tea pot and then showed her the small bathroom and then a big double bed in its own room.

As Emma turned to leave, Margaret punched her in the face, and then threw her onto the bed, grabbing hold of her arms and elbowing her. Emma squealed, her hands trying to force the woman off of her, but Margaret was determined and pulled Emma's hands up to the headboard. "Stop. Fighting. Me," Margaret called.