4. In Too Deep
Sam had two things that were essential when following a target: the ability to concentrate for lengthy periods and a very ordinary-looking car; a five-year-old medium grey Vauxhall Astra that she'd bought because it was so instantly forgettable.
She followed Becky's small red hatchback along the gently winding country roads, past the endlessly flat fields of wheat and barley, being careful to keep her in sight without getting too close. Sam had spent the morning in her office then most of the afternoon watching her house, a surge of adrenaline kicking in when she saw the blonde leaving.
Tailing someone was a tricky job; you had to be close enough to keep them in view, but far enough back so that you weren't too obvious. Becky had been relatively easy to follow though, she was a careful driver who stuck to the speed limits and indicated well before turning. Even so, she'd heaved a sigh of relief when they'd left the centre of Fentonbridge, with its many traffic lights and roundabouts making her job that much more difficult.
Out here on these long, straight roads, it was much easier to keep her distance whilst keeping an eye on Becky's car, and she'd just begun to relax a little and wonder about the final destination when her mobile rang.
"Hello, Steve?" she said, pressing a button to activate the hands-free mode.
"Yeah, hi Sam. Just wondering how that drugs case was working out. Made any progress?"
"Actually, I'm following one of the suspects right now on the old Cambridge road," Sam said, hoping he'd take the hint and hang up.
"Oh really? I hope you're being careful."
"Yes, dad!" she said, sighing theatrically. Sam appreciated his concern but just because they used to date, it didn't mean he had the right to interfere in her work.
"It's just I know what you're like, too nosey for your own good sometimes."
"Really, I'm fine, I can look after myself."
There was a brief silence and Sam knew him well enough to know that he had something else to say.
"Okay... listen, um, do you fancy going for a drink later?"
"A drink? Do you think that's wise. I mean, what about Lara?"
"Actually, there's been a development so if you're free..."
Sam's mind whirred, trying to figure out what he meant by 'development' but at the moment, Becky's car indicated, then drifted left onto a slip road towards a motel set back off the road.
"Sorry Steve, got to go, I'll call you back in an hour or so," Sam said, hanging up as she glanced in her rear-view mirror and slowed down.
At the end of a short slip road was an ordinary-looking Travelodge, a rectangular, two-storey redbrick motel set back from the A-road and shielded by a row of tall, slender birch trees. It was around fifteen miles from Fentonbridge and Sam realised she must have driven past this place hundreds of times without noticing it. In fact, she must have driven past a few days ago on her way to the Kleinwert lab, which was a couple of miles down the road.
Sam pulled into the large but mostly empty car park just in time to see Becky disappear inside the entrance, her bright yellow skirt and white top contrasting with its shady entrance. She switched off the engine and pondered what to do next. Ordinarily, she might sit and wait patiently in the safety of her car keeping an eye on the entrance but Sam figured Becky could be in there all evening. Or maybe she was sitting at the bar just inside, chatting to her contact at Kleinwert. Impatience and curiosity soon got the better of her, and after a few minutes she locked her handbag in the boot and walked over to the entrance.
Inside, the motel was plain and functional. Sam had a quick look around the small bar area to the right of reception, but it looked empty.
"Can I help you?" said the man behind a beige desk.
"Yeah, I'm looking for a friend of mine, Becky Cook. She said she'd meet me here," Sam lied.
"Sure, Becky Cook," he said, as he consulted his monitor."She's in room two-one-three, the lift's right there to your left."
"Oh, um, thanks," Sam said.
"Well, that was a lot easier than I thought," Sam thought to herself as she advanced slowly down a corridor, scanning the doors for room numbers. When she got to room 213, she was surprised to find the door ajar, as if she was expected. She paused for a second, listening, hearing muted voices from within. She knew it would be reckless to go any further and she should probably just turn around and head back outside, but she was so close now. A glimpse of whoever was inside with Becky might solve the mystery.
Holding her breath, she peaked around the edge of the door. It was a large room, with a bathroom to the right, and built-in floor-to-ceiling wardrobes to her left. She took a tentative step inside, ready to use the excuse that she'd got the wrong room and noting that the sound of voices was coming from a large wall-mounted television.
She was so focussed on what was in front of her that she didn't notice the large shape appearing in the doorway behind her until it was too late. Before she could scream, she'd been grabbed from behind and felt a large hand covering her mouth and a sharp jab in her neck. She struggled briefly before the world faded to black.
--
Sam slowly became conscious, the muffled sounds becoming clearer, the blackness turning to shades of grey. The first thing she noticed was the soreness in her neck, and the second was that she was naked except for her panties. Instinctively, she tried to cover her body but discovered her hands were bound above her head with something that felt cool and metallic like handcuffs.
She opened one eye a little; above her was the plain white expanse of ceiling, off to her left was the window. She can't have been unconscious long because the sun was only just setting, throwing a slanted rectangle of fading light onto the wheat-coloured carpet, and gleaming off what appeared to be a small video camera mounted on a tripod. Her jeans, t-shirt and lavender-coloured bra were in a neatly folded pile on a large leather chair, her trainers underneath. She slowly shifted her head. On her right were two blurry shapes that refused to come into focus: a woman who must be Becky and a large, suited man. She closed her eyes, pretending to be unconscious as she listened to their conversation.
"Dumb bitch, she walked straight in to our little trap, I didn't even have to drag her inside," the man chuckled. Sam recognised his deep, gruff voice, but couldn't quite place him.
