Hunted by James Patterson

gaining a place at university, but they’d been joined by two older men who were trying to chat them up. Or at least that’s what they were pretending to do. The phone transmitting the footage belonged to one of the men.
    The two girls were laughing politely at the attempts of the two men to impress them, but Claridge knew his daughter. He saw the signs.He knew full well that later on she’d be telling him about the sleazy guys who spoiled their evening.
    If there was a later.
    ‘One phone call and the guy on the left pulls the trigger,’ said Tremain flatly. ‘A second call and the two guys on the right show your daughter what they’ve learned from watching porn. And do you know how long it took me to set that up, my friend? Less than five minutes. That is how easy it is to crush you.’
    ‘I’ll kill you for this,’ said Claridge, without much conviction.
    ‘No, you won’t. Remember what I said. You’re in the open now, no cards to play. You should be grateful you’re not being followed home by a man with a syringe. You should be grateful you even have the choice. Do as you’re told and you could come out of this rich, and with peace of mind that your family is safe. Now, tell me the name of your operative. And bear in mind, I’m not leaving here until I’ve verified his identity. Say it – say his name.’
    ‘I’d be signing his death warrant.’
    ‘Either way, you’re signing someone’s death warrant.’ Tremain looked almost regretful. ‘Look, we’re not playing here, Simon.’
    Claridge shook his head with disgust. ‘What happened to you? What happened to make you like this?’
    ‘I’ve asked myself the same question,’ replied Tremain. ‘I asked myself: did I really get involved with MI5 to help the rich and powerful kill the downtrodden? And I decided that the answer is that I had no choice. It will happen regardless. I might as well make hay while the sun shines. Now give me the name, before I make some calls.’
    Claridge’s eyes dropped and he spoke Shelley’s name into his lap.
    In a moment Tremain had a home address and men were dispatched.
    Together they waited for further updates, their eyes on Tremain’s laptop screen.

CHAPTER 22
    LUCY WASN’T NORMALLY so diligent when it came to checking her emails, but with Shelley away, she’d been spending more time online. Facebook, eBay, Etsy, you name it.
    It was for this reason that she saw Claridge’s message as soon as it was sent: We’re blown. Expect enemy action ASAP .
    She ran upstairs and retrieved a Glock 17 sidearm from the cupboard. At the same time she grabbed a framed photograph from a chest of drawers, and then on her return downstairs snatched a second picture from the wall. She rearranged the remaining pictures to hide the gap.
    Now, in the front room, she tried to view their house as visitors might see it, looking for anything incriminating. Satisfied, she stashed the Glock and the two pictures on a shelf inside the chimney, away from all but the most thorough search.
    Right , she thought. She was as ready as she could be, in the time allowed. She warmed up as she waited.
    Shortly afterwards a people carrier drew up outside. Four men alighted and two moved off. Probably going to the back of the house.
    She drew away from the window as the other two approached her front door and knocked. Frankie padded through from the kitchen as she went to answer.
    In Claridge’s office at Thames House, Tremain was on the phone. ‘Visual ID. You think it’s him? Okay. That’s the wife. Name of Lucy. Find something that belongs to him, run a fingerprint check and get back to me.’
    He ended the call and looked across to where Claridge sat with rounded shoulders. ‘It checks out so far. Captain David Shelley of the SAS. Exemplary record. My compliments, Claridge, you’ve certainly given us cause for concern.’
    His phone rang again.
    ‘Hello. It checks out? Good. Get out of there. You know what to do.’
    He