76
The Peugeot hurtled out of the city northwards on the central motorway with a Traffic car escort, its blue lights flashing and sirens screaming for other motorists to give way. Gormley floored the accelerator and took the airport road. As the miles flashed by and they left the city behind, the speedometer climbed steadily. But in the passenger seat Daniels’ right foot was pressed down hard on an imaginary pedal, wishing she was driving her own car, urging him to get an even greater move on.
Desperate to apprehend Laidlaw, she got on the radio.
‘7824 to control. Any MIT officers near the airport yet?’
Pete Brooks in the control room responded immediately: ‘3962 on way.’
‘ETA two minutes, boss.’ Carmichael’s voice hit Daniels’ ear.
Good girl! ‘Reference our suspect. We’re fairly certain she’s making a run for it, Lisa. No details on flights or names, but the Audi A5 is a hire car.’
‘Steel grey, 09 plate, yeah?’
‘Correct. Check it out, soon as you get there. Hank and I are right behind you. If you see her, do not, I repeat do not approach her without backup. When you’re done, rendezvous with us at airport security.’
Using the emergency bay to park her private car at Newcastle International Airport was always risky. Carmichael placed her circular police sticker in the window, insurance against being towed away or slapped with a hefty fine. There were five car hire companies to choose from: Avis, Budget, Europcar, Hertz and Thrifty. It was guesswork: a matter of getting round the lot as hastily as she could.
Walking quickly towards the terminal building, she scanned the car park, keeping her eye out for Laidlaw, wondering how soon her boss and Gormley would arrive. Word was, they’d found a body at the Turnbull Building. Carmichael was out and about following up on a lead when Daniels called in. She’d received the news second-hand from Andy Brown. As a result, she was first out of the blocks. And, as luck would have it, in close proximity to the airport when the call went out for officers to assist in the apprehension of their prime suspect.
What a feather in her cap that would be, if she was the one to make the arrest.
With that career-enhancing opportunity in her head, Carmichael could hardly contain herself. She’d learned a lot about Laidlaw from looking into her dodgy dealings while investigating the murder of three – now four – people. And what she’d learned enabling her to build a picture of the kind of woman she was. Consequently, she was able to make an educated guess at which hire company her suspect might choose from the list of those available.
Immediately discounting two – Budget and Thrifty were not Laidlaw’s style – Carmichael bypassed Europcar and headed for Hertz: the world’s largest car-rental agency, according to the blurb on the wall in front of her. At the counter, she showed ID to a Chinese woman of indeterminate age, explaining why she was there. The woman consulted her records, then frowned and shook her head, telling the detective that no Ms or Mrs Laidlaw was currently a client of the firm.
‘Any Audi A5s handed in today?’ Carmichael was trying to read the returns sheet upside down. ‘The person I’m looking for may well be using another name.’
‘That’s a little easier. We only have one A5 in the fleet at the moment. It was handed back at, let me see . . .’ The woman ran a long red fingernail down the page and then glanced at her watch. ‘About forty minutes ago. It was signed off at three-o-five.’
Bingo!
Carmichael asked for details and wrote them down, conscious that she was running out of time if Laidlaw was catching a flight and not laying a false trail. The A5 was part of Hertz’ Prestige Collection. Why didn’t that surprise her? It had been rented by a woman calling herself Marianne Spencer, a Christian name she knew Laidlaw had used before.
Maybe she was getting sloppy.
The assistant remembered her too: ‘Short, dark hair, quite striking in appearance.’ She described what Laidlaw was wearing, then added, ‘Most of our customers are friendly, even when they are in a hurry. But the lady you’re looking for was rather rude, too full of herself to pass the time of day with the likes of me—’
‘You’ve been really helpful,’ Carmichael cut her off. Taking a business card from her wallet, she handed it over. The woman studied it: the force crest on the top left-hand corner, the words Northumbria Police written across a thin blue strip, details of where Carmichael could be found, her department, her name and rank. ‘Please make sure the vehicle isn’t cleaned. We’ll need to retain it for forensic examination.’
The woman nodded and picked up the phone.
Carmichael did likewise, arranging to have the Audi collected immediately. As she hung up, Daniels and Gormley arrived, separating as soon as they walked through the door, their eyes scanning the cavernous terminal building for any sign of Laidlaw. The departure hall was crammed with tourists, business travellers and families saying goodbye. At the check-in desks people queued, cases were dumped, tickets checked, hopes raised that flights would leave on time. Carmichael caught Daniels’ eye and met her halfway in, hurriedly explaining what she’d managed to learn so far. The DCI was too busy studying the departures boards to congratulate her on a job well done. That would come later: Carmichael was sure of it.
‘Any idea which flight she’s heading for?’ Daniels asked.
‘None.’ Carmichael’s shoulders went down.
Daniels cursed. ‘Then you and I have a decision to make.’