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“Don’t worry, Isabel,” was all she said.

31

Isabel was terrified.

Terrified by Rachel’s insane driving and her own inability to do even the slightest thing about it.

Only two or three hundred meters farther on, they would hit the toll booths of the Storebælt Bridge, and Rachel wasn’t slowing down. In just a few seconds, the speed limit would be thirty kilometers an hour, and they were doing one hundred and fifty. Ahead of them, the train with Joshua on board tore through the landscape, and this madwoman was hell-bent on catching up with it.

“Slow down, Rachel!” Isabel screamed, as the toll station loomed up in front of them. “BRAKE!”

But Rachel gripped the wheel tighter. She was in a world of her own. She was going to save her children.

Whatever else might happen was of no consequence.

They saw toll officers by the lorry bays waving their arms, and a couple of cars in front of them veered sharply out of their way.

And then they smashed through the barrier with an enormous crash, and debris was slung out to the side and on to the windscreen.

Had her Mondeo been in better condition, they would now have been sharing its interior with a pair of exploding airbags. The mechanic had told her they were defective and needed replacing, but the cost had been prohibitive. She had wanted to have the work done for a long time, but now she was glad she hadn’t. If the airbags had deployed into their faces as they hurtled through the toll station at this speed, things would have gone terribly wrong. But now the only signs of this willful destruction of government property were a huge dent in the hood and an ugly crack that spread across the windscreen.

Behind them, all hell was breaking loose. If the police had not yet been alerted about a car registered in her name having smashed through the toll barrier of the Storebælt Bridge, then someone must have been fast asleep.

Isabel exhaled sharply and pressed Joshua’s number again. “We’re over the bridge! Where are you?”

He gave the coordinates from his GPS and she compared them to her own. He couldn’t be far ahead.

“I’m not happy with this,” he said. “It’s wrong. What we’re doing is wrong.”

She tried to calm him down as best she could, though with little success.

“Call when you see the strobe,” she said and snapped the phone shut.

***

Approaching exit 41, they saw the train on their left. A sleek necklace of light sweeping through the darkened landscape. And there in the third carriage was a man whose heart was pounding.

When would the bastard make contact?

Isabel clutched the mobile in her hand as they pelted along the stretch between Halsskov and exit 40. There were no flashing blue lights in sight.

“The police will stop us at Slagelse, Rachel, you can be sure of it. Why did you have to demolish that tollgate?”

“You can see the train, can’t you? It would have been gone if I’d slowed down and stopped even for twenty seconds. That’s why!”

“But I’ve lost it. I can’t see it anymore,” Isabel replied frantically. She stared at the map on her knee. “Damn it, Rachel. The track veers off north here and passes through Slagelse. If he gives the signal to Joshua between Forlev and Slagelse we haven’t a chance. Unless we get off the motorway, NOW!”

Exit 40 disappeared behind them as Isabel turned her head.

She bit down on her lip. “Rachel, if he does what I think he will, then Joshua’s going to see that strobe any minute now. Three roads cross the railway before we get to Slagelse. Any one of them would be a perfect place to dump the ransom. But we can’t get off the motorway now, because we just passed the exit.”

Isabel saw right away that she had struck a chord. Rachel’s eyes became desperate again. For the next couple of minutes, the mobile chiming was the last thing in the world she wanted to hear.

Suddenly she stepped hard on the brake and pulled onto the hard shoulder.

“I’m going to reverse,” she explained.

Had she lost her mind? Isabel flicked on the hazard lights and tried to slow her pulse.

“Listen, Rachel,” she said, as calmly as she could. “Joshua will do this just fine. We don’t need to be there when he throws out the bag. Joshua’s right. The kidnapper’s going to get in touch with us anyway once he sees what’s in the bag,” Isabel said. But Rachel wasn’t listening. She had a different agenda, and Isabel understood.

“I’m going to reverse along the hard shoulder,” Rachel said again.

“Don’t, Rachel.”

But she did.

Isabel pulled off her safety belt and turned in her seat. Behind her were columns of traffic coming toward them. “You must be insane, Rachel! You’ll get us killed. What good’s that going to do Samuel and Magdalena?”

But Rachel said nothing. She sat there, the engine whining in reverse, as they tore back along the asphalt.

And then Isabel saw the blue lights come over the hill, some four or five hundred meters behind.

“STOP!” she screamed. It was enough for Rachel to lift her foot from the accelerator.

Rachel looked back at the blue lights, recognizing the problem at once. The gearbox protested audibly as she went straight from reverse into first. Within seconds, they were doing a hundred and fifty again.

“Just pray that Joshua doesn’t call in the next couple of minutes to say he’s dumped the bag. If he doesn’t, we might still have a chance. But you need to turn off at exit 38, rather than 39,” Isabel groaned. “The police will be waiting at 39. They may be there already. Get off at 38. We’ll take the main road instead, it’s closer to the railway. The train goes through farmland all the way to Ringsted, away from the motorway.”

She put her belt on again and sat with her eyes fixed on the speedometer for the next ten kilometers. The blue lights behind were apparently taking no risks in the chase. Who could blame them? she thought.

As they passed exit 39, the road out of Slagelse was a ribbon of blue. The police cars would be there any moment.

Her fears were confirmed.

“They’re closing in on us, Rachel. Faster, if you can,” she urged, pressing Joshua’s number on the mobile.

“Where are you now, Joshua?” she demanded.

But Joshua didn’t answer. Did that mean he had already dumped the bag? Or had something worse happened? Was the monster on the train? The thought hadn’t occurred to her until now. Could that be it? All that stuff about flashing strobes and throwing the bag out of the window, was it all just a smokescreen? Did he already have the bag in his possession and had found out there was no money in it?

She swiveled her head and glanced at the duffel bag with the ransom inside it on the backseat.

What would the bastard do to Joshua?

***

They reached exit 38 just as blue lights appeared up ahead on the opposite, westbound side, too. Rachel didn’t touch the brakes as they hit Route 150 with a squeal of tires, as close to colliding with another car as they could possibly get. Had it not been for swift evasive action on the part of the other driver, they would all have been done for.

Isabel felt the sweat on her back. She was soaking wet. This woman at the wheel was not merely desperate, she was insane.

“There’s no escape on this road, Rachel. Once the police get behind us here, all they need to do is follow our rear lights,” she yelled.

Rachel shook her head and bore down so close on the still swerving car in front of them they almost locked bumpers.

“No, we won’t let them,” she said calmly, and turned off the lights. The automatic driving lights Isabel had been meaning to get fixed went out at the same time.

They saw the figures of an elderly couple through the rear window of the car in front. Terror seemed a mild interpretation of their frenzied gesticulations.

“We’ll turn off first chance I get,” Rachel said.