I was trapped. Jesus, I was trapped.

Looking round quickly, I located the light switch, flicked it off and plunged the room into darkness. Then, as quickly as I could, I slipped under one of the beds furthest from the door, and lay there on my back, staring up at the mattress several inches above me, knowing this was no cover at all, trying to calm my breathing. Waiting…

The door opened and shut again, and the lights were switched back on.

I held my breath. Outside, the noise seemed to have died away. Where the hell was everyone?

The footsteps were quiet as the man moved through the room, coming steadily closer. My guts churned, my heart beat furiously in my chest. I tried desperately to think of an escape plan, my mind whirring and leaping but coming up with nothing, because of course there was nothing to come up with.

The footsteps stopped. Right next to the bed. My lungs felt like they were going to burst. I had to breathe soon, had to-

'Mr Fallon?'

I recognized the voice. It was the police officer from earlier, the one who was with me after I'd been hit by the car, before the ambulance came.

'My name's Mike Bolt, and I'm from the Serious and Organized Crime Agency.'

He helped me out from under the bed and I got a proper look at him for the first time. He was tall and well built, with close-cropped silver-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and there were three small scars on the lean, slightly lined face, one of them a vivid C-shape gouged into his cheek, that gave him an appearance that was close to, but not quite, thuggish. Right then he inspired confidence and I was glad he was on my side.

'You lead a charmed life, Mr Fallon,' he said, leading me out into the corridor, where a number of medical staff had gathered to see what was going on.

'Have you got the guy who was after me?' I asked him.

'We're looking for him now,' he answered as we walked back to my room. 'But there's no need for you to worry. We've got armed officers all over the building.'

I felt like saying that this could be construed as being a bit late, but didn't bother. I was pleased just to be safe, a feeling that was reinforced when I saw the three black-clad Robocop lookalikes standing outside the door of my room, wielding machine guns.

Standing off to one side of them in jeans and check shirt was a short, squat Asian guy with a thick head of hair like a badger's, talking animatedly to the harassed-looking junior doctor who'd examined me earlier.

'This is my colleague, Mo Khan,' said Bolt as the Asian guy turned round. 'We'd like to ask you some questions quickly if that's OK? It's extremely urgent.'

'I don't think this is a good idea,' said the doctor, pushing past Mo Khan. 'This patient needs rest,' he added firmly, addressing Mike Bolt.

'It's OK,' I said, pleased for the opportunity to finally tell my story in full. 'I'll speak to them now.'

A few minutes later I was back in bed with a glass of water in my hand, feeling a little more relaxed as they took seats on either side of the bed.

'OK,' said Bolt as Mo Khan produced a tape recorder, 'we understand you witnessed a kidnapping. Take us through everything from the beginning. And please don't leave anything out.'

So this time I didn't. I told them everything, including what had happened to Ramon, knowing that there was no longer any point in holding anything back. Neither of them seemed fazed by my revelations. Instead they took me through every important detail of the past forty-eight hours, slowly and carefully, asking questions where necessary, but otherwise allowing me to talk.

When I'd finished, I felt numb and spent. I took a big gulp of water and sat back against the pillows, hoping they believed me, but not sure what else I could say.

'You're extremely lucky, Mr Fallon,' said Bolt, leaning forward in his seat. 'The man who's been after you is a professional killer.'

'You know him, then?'

'I know of him. His name's Michael Killen, and he's extremely dangerous.'

Hearing his name took away some of the mystery surrounding him. It had a diminishing effect, making him smaller and pettier, somehow less immortal. 'I know I'm lucky to be alive,' I said, suddenly feeling deflated. 'But does this mean you'll be able to find Jenny now? And Tina? She's still missing, isn't she?'

Bolt nodded, an expression of concern crossing his face. It was clear he knew her. 'Unfortunately she is, yes,' he answered. 'We're in a better position to find both of them now we've talked to you and you've filled in the gaps, but I've got to be honest, we're still short of leads.'

'So, Killen's escaped then?'

'It looks that way. And I've got no doubt he knows where both women are.'

It was Mo Khan who spoke next. 'Is there anything you can think of, Mr Fallon, any clue at all that might help us find them? Something you saw or heard that you haven't yet told us about?'

'I've still got those photos that Tina sent me.'

'We've already seen them,' he said.

I wondered how this could be but didn't say anything. I was too busy racking my brains, but unfortunately to no avail. 'I'm sorry,' I told them at last, 'I can't think of anything.'

They looked disappointed but thanked me for my help and got to their feet. It was clear they were finished with me for now.

'One thing before you go,' I said. 'You turned up out of the blue at Maxwell's place tonight. How did you know I was there?'

'Maxwell – Harvey Hammond – was a police informant of mine for a number of years,' Bolt answered.

That caught me out. 'I was writing a book about him,' I said. 'I thought he was some bigshot criminal.'

'No, he was small-time. He used to know a lot of people on the fringes, and he was good at keeping his ear to the ground, but he was no Ronnie Kray.' He gave me a sympathetic look, seeing that this news represented something of an unpleasant surprise.

In truth, it was one of the biggest shocks I'd had in the last few days. I'd really believed in Maxwell, had been totally taken in by his tales of villainy. To find out that he was nothing but a lowlife snitch made me feel like a gullible prick.

'One thing I've learned in twenty years as a cop,' continued Bolt, 'is that the real bad guys don't tend to talk about what they do, only the wannabes. Look at it this way, though. If it hadn't been for Maxwell calling me to let us know you were at his place, you'd be dead now.'

As they turned to leave, something else occurred to me. 'And how did Killen and his mate manage to track me down to Maxwell's cottage? I'm positive I wasn't followed there and no one knew that was where I was going.'

They exchanged glances again, and it was clear that neither of them had thought about this.

There was a pause of a couple of seconds before a look of realization crossed Mo Khan's face. 'You said Killen gave you back your phone when he came to your place on Monday night, didn't you?'

I nodded.

'Where's the phone now?'

'In my jeans pocket.' I pointed to where my clothes were hanging over a chair in the corner.

He went through them until he found it and then, as I watched, he took off the back and started fiddling round inside. A couple of seconds later he removed a small round object, about half the size of a penny piece. He held it up for me to see. It emitted a tiny flashing red light. 'A GPS tracking device. Simple, yet highly effective.' He gave me a look that might have been sympathetic, or was possibly just pitying. 'It seems, Mr Fallon, that they knew exactly where you were the whole time.'