Carly tried to open her eyes but something kept them firmly shut. After a few seconds of trying, and quite possibly doing irreparable damage to her eyelash extensions, she gave up. Speaking was another impossibility with what felt like plastic tape across her mouth. The best she could manage was a wailing grunt from her throat which was painfully raw. She needed a drink, she needed to sit up. That was when the panic started to set in as she realised this wasn't a dream, or even a nightmare. This was real, she wasn't in her own bed, nor was she anywhere that felt remotely familiar. Her breathing accelerated, her heart pumping wildly but she was stronger than that and from within she forced the panic to subside, concentrating hard on each breath. She was no damsel in distress, whoever was responsible for this was going to pay, big time. Her wrists were bound behind her back although her legs had been left untied. She managed to shuffle around until her feet his something solid and gave it a hefty strike with her heels. It made a loud hollow sound. She struck it again, and again, and again. Eventually she heard a door open and stopped, replacing the noise with the only sound she could make from her body venting her frustration and anger. Footsteps followed, drawing closer. As they did she smelt the same odour as before, frantically she tried to wriggle away from it tossing her head as best she could but a hand clamped down on her and suddenly there was pressure on her nose from a damp pad, she tried not to breathe but with her mouth taped there was no choice and within moments she felt herself disappear into nothing once again.

-oOo-

"Now, that's what I call criminal," a fire officer sidled up to Ben, mournfully gazing at the smouldering heap of metal.

"Eh? Well of course it is. It's a burnt out car," replied Ben dismissively, looking back down at his notes.

"No, that's not what I mean. That, my friend, is a Porsche 911. A thing of beauty, or at least it was until someone sprayed it pink. I suppose torching it could be taken as an act of kindness, putting it out of its misery."

"Pink Porsche? I've seen one of those somewhere. Can't be many of them about."

"I hope not. Well, here's your chassis number, track it from that and find whoever was responsible, for the spray job at least."

Ben took the piece of paper from the fire officer and pocketed it, it was nearly time for refs and this could wait until they got back to the station.

Max eyed the two PCs in front of him, blocking his way back to his office. Holding his coffee, he glared at their backs while they meandered slowly along the corridor, others rushed past in the other direction, some averting their eyes when they caught the irritation in his. Each wondered how Ben and Nate had failed to feel their backs burning. He was about to bark at them to stop wasting time and hurry up when he was stopped in his tracks.

"Carly Fleischmann … Fleischmann?" mused Nate out loud. "Isn't she the daughter of Georgie Fleischmann? Owns the Parisa Bar, doesn't he?"

"Oh yeah!" exclaimed Ben, giving Nate a slap to the arm, as if blaming him for his memory loss. "I knew I'd seen the car round here before. Just couldn't remember where. But that's it. I've seen it parked up outside," Ben confirmed. "This'll be fun," he added, grimacing. "She is a nightmare from what I've heard. Toss a coin to decide who gets the pleasure of telling her?"

"Tell her what?" interrupted Max impatiently.

"Eh? Oh, umm …" Ben spun round, his mouth gaping for a moment before pulling himself together. "Well, we've found her car. It's been torched out on the Larkmead Industrial Estate."

"When?"

"About an hour ago?"

"And you didn't call it in then?"

"It's only the car, no evidence of anyone inside or injured. We came back to the station to track the car from the chassis number, and besides it's still early. Who wants this kind of news before they've had a chance to wake up? It hasn't even been reported stolen yet."

"No, but its owner has been reported missing."

"Oh, er …"

"I don't suppose it occurred to you to check that?"

"Umm …"

Max continued to glare at Ben, Nate stood mutely by his side trying to think of something to say in their defence.

"I don't want the car moved or touched until I get Eddie down there. Do you think you could manage that? Or shall I get the canteen staff to have a go at your jobs?"

"Sir," Nate and Ben muttered, as Max continued on towards the stairs, the view of his retreating back effectively dismissing them to their task.

"Well, that went well. I guess he isn't getting much from Millie at the moment," murmured Nate.

"Yeah, but on the bright side, at least we don't have to break the news to Miss Fleischmann that her car has been stolen and burnt out."

"Millie?"

"Hmmm?" Millie mumbled sleepily into the handset. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven."

"Ohhh, not fair … why?"

"It's Carly, Millie. We've found her car. Abandoned and torched."

Millie sat bolt upright at the news, immediately awake. "And Carly? Any sign of her?"

"No, I'm sorry. It's looks like Georgie was right to be worried. How would you feel about meeting me at his place to tell him? I'll square it with whoever is on duty at Barton Street, to release you for the day." Longer, if necessary, he thought to himself.

"Yeah … yeah of course! Oh God, Max, he's going to be beside himself."

Having arranged to meet Max on a side street close to Georgie's home, Millie threw herself out of bed and straight to the window to pull up the blinds. It had rained, but not enough. Instead of washing away the grime, the street beyond was just as dirty as before, rivulets of rainwater had dried leaving sludgy tracks down the glass. She opened a window in an effort to let in some morning freshness but the air outside was still heavy despite the earliness of the day. She frowned at the street beyond, cars zipping by, life going on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She'd had to tell victims' parents worse things than this before, but never anyone close to her. But, there was still no evidence that anything had happened to Carly, she told herself firmly. She could well still be out there, her handbag stolen perhaps, keys and phone gone and blissfully unaware, perhaps in bed with her latest unlucky prey. Yes, that was it. She didn't believe a word of her own argument.

Max was already waiting for her, leaning back against his car, when she pulled up to the kerb. He looked at her grimly before pushing himself off from the car to walk towards hers, his hands shoved firmly into his trouser pockets. She watched him approach the passenger side with a sense of foreboding, he clearly didn't believe that Carly was safe any more than she did. Sliding in beside her, Max leant across to squeeze her fingers resting on the gear stick.

"You okay?"

Millie nodded tightly, biting into her lower lip. "Any news?"

"Nah, nothing." The worry etched across Millie's features caught him off-guard. It wasn't the same worry that he'd seen her show when dealing with strictly work-related cases, this was different. Ultimately, whatever happened at work had to stay there, for the sake of everyone's sanity. Whatever the outcome of this, and Max feared it wouldn't be a happy one, nothing would be the same again. Suddenly he found himself in uncharted territory, struggling to work out how to balance his personal relationships with his own private agenda. Snatching his hand away, he sat back in the seat and focussed on the road ahead. "Let's go." He didn't mean to sound so short, so curt. He didn't mean to make her purse her lips and furrow her brow in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour. He didn't mean to sound as if he was talking to any other member of his team. But he did. And he realised that he didn't know how not to. This was why working with Millie had never been a good idea, he didn't know how to relate to her on a professional level or how to give instruction without causing hurt that would inevitably follow them into their home and life away from all this. But this time, there really was no alternative. Nobody else could be the eyes and ears he needed, however unwittingly the information might be provided.

In awkward silence, they travelled the short distance to Georgie's house, hidden behind high brick walls and wrought iron gates on Canley's answer to East Finchley's Millionaires' Row. Like his business ventures, it exuded affluence, if not style. Mock Georgian, faux Palladian, however its architect might have described it and no doubt charged for it. Had it been allowed to age gracefully the house might have been excused, but every inch of the 'grounds' was rigorously sandblasted and manicured in the pursuit of superficial perfection. Millie had often compared it to her own childhood home, similar size and made up of the same ingredients but yet a home, comfortable and lived in with memories saturating every room. Chips in the door frames where she and Tara had ridden their bicycles indoors when her mother was out, egged on by their father, a few cracked floor tiles when toys had literally been thrown out of prams and at each other. But there was none of that in the Fleischmann household. No such living had ever taken place there.

"Yes?" Georgie's anxious voice called out from the speaker on the gate.

"Georgie, it's Millie. And Max," she added hesitantly. "Can we come in?"

"Oh … er … yes. Yes."

The gates swung open and Millie pulled forward, looking across to Max for his reaction to the house. He returned her glance with eyebrows raised, the tension between them dissipating. "Nice place," he ventured weakly, raising a small smile from her in response. Seeing Georgie appear at the door, Max made to get out of the car but Millie caught his shirt sleeve and tugged him back. "Let me tell him. It's better if I do the talking… please?"

Max stalled for a moment, he'd only intended for Millie to hold the man's hand, to be a sympathetic shoulder to lean on, make the tea and listen out for anything that would lead him to the Russians' operation. Reluctantly though he nodded, he had to admit that she would be far better skilled at this.

"Tell me! Have you found her? Where is she?"

"Georgie, let's go inside. Come on." Max attempted to guide Georgie by the elbow towards the open front door but the older man shrugged him away angrily.

"Georgie, please," pleaded Millie, "let's go inside." He looked at her beseechingly, imploring her for good news before dropping his head and leading them inside. She felt almost sick with her sorrow, watching this normally vital man so reduced, knowing that his pain would only get worse before it got better.

Max looked around the room he took them into. Even to his philistine eye, it looked expensive. A baby grand piano lounged in the corner of the room, art filled the walls and photographs of Georgie and Carly, either together or with figures of varying celebrity, in elaborate silver frames cluttered every surface. Max peered at one of Georgie beaming into the camera with a confused looking Margaret Thatcher at his side. He raised his eyes to the ceiling but caught Millie watching him censoriously on the way back down. Chastened, he sank into an overstuffed armchair opposite the pair and instantly regretted it. His back would never let him get up without complaint. With trademark stoniness, he let Millie do the talking while he fixed his attention on Georgie, watching intently for the slightest reaction that would tell him more than his words were likely to.

"Georgie," Millie began softly, taking one of his hands in hers, "Carly's car has been found. It's been burnt out." Georgie looked up at her in horror, prompting Millie to continue quickly. "It doesn't necessarily mean that something terrible has happened to her, she could walk in at any time, but it seems the keys were in the ignition, which suggests that they were at least stolen or-"

"Someone's taken her as well," he finished hollowly.

"It's a possibility, bearing in mind that you haven't heard from her since yesterday," agreed Millie quietly, wondering how to phrase her next question, considering her own relationship with Carly. "Is there any reason that someone could want to harm her?"

"No! Everybody loves my girl. Not an enemy in the world." Max watched as Millie bit her lip at his fatherly delusion.

"And what about you?" Millie glared at Max, but he ignored her. Better that he ask the awkward questions, the man disliked him anyway. "Is there anyone who might want to … let's say … send you a message?"

Georgie returned Max's stare indignantly, but beneath it Max was certain he could see fear. "Of course not. I'm an honest businessman. I may have upset a few people along the way but nobody who would ever resort to kidnapping my child." The heightened emphasis in his denial only serving to fuel Max's suspicion.

"She's not a child though is she? She's a grown woman and I can't help wondering if she might have wanted out of all this," he waved to the room, "to get away from you. Live a life of her own, perhaps."

"Max!" reprimanded Millie sharply. She glowered at him angrily, demanding his apology but was given only a cold shrug in return.

"You know nothing about Carly and me. How could you? From what I've heard about your family …" If Georgie had hoped to rile Max he was disappointed. He remained calmly impassive, leaving Millie to take up his defence.

"Georgie, that's not fair. Both of you, this isn't helping." She felt herself caught in the crossfire between the two when their energy should be directed towards finding Carly. "We need to know what happened to Carly after she left the salon," she persisted while the two men continued to stare at each other until suddenly Georgie broke the stalemate.

"CCTV!"

"What?"

"There're three cameras at the back of the salon," Georgie ignored Max's question and turned to Millie to explain his outburst, "I had them installed when Carly took the lease. I didn't want her to, the back of that unit is dingy and there's a dark alley that leads to where she parks her car, but she insisted. So, I had a camera put in at the back door, at the end of the alley and above her parking space. Just in case …" he trailed off realising that 'just in case' had actually happened.

"Where are the tapes?"

"In the salon, at the reception desk."

For Max, the time had come to bear the pain. Wincing, he pushed himself forward. "Right, I'll get over there now and check it out. I'll need the keys and alarm code though," he glanced at his watch, being only a little after eight, he guessed Carly's staff wouldn't be there yet.

"There's a spare set in the safe, I'll get them." Georgie rose and slowly walked to the back of the room while Max deliberately avoided Millie's attempts to silently catch his eye. Max tried hard to suppress a small smile when the keys were delivered into her hands, Georgie really didn't like him. Good. His smug reflection however was immediately cut short by the annoyance in Millie's glare.

"Millie, do you … er ... want to hang on here for a while?" he asked, rising from the edge of his chair.

"Yes, that is if you want me to, Georgie? I'll call Mum, I'm sure she'll come straight over and stay with you so that I can get over to Sun Hill. I can keep you updated that way." Mutely, he nodded, staring into space. She touched his arm in comfort as she rose to follow Max out into the reception hall.

"Was that really necessary? I thought you were going to let me do the talking," Millie hissed as Max reached the front door.

"What?" He turned and looked down at her with feigned innocence, reaching into his pocket for his keys.

"Goading Georgie like that? Saying that Carly might have wanted to escape from hm. The man is distraught and you just stuck the knife in even further."

"It might be true. Who knows what's going on here," he answered obstinately.

"Well it was a low thing to say to him now. Can't you see how he is? Doesn't any part of you feel for what he is going through?"

"It's not my job to hand out the tea and sympathy, Millie. It's my job to find Carly and if she has been abducted, then also why and by whom." Millie's eyes narrowed slightly at the last part of his justification. Something in it triggered her suspicion that perhaps he wasn't telling her everything. Max realised his error and swiftly continued to cover his tracks, "I'm sorry if I was being insensitive," he cupped her cheek, distracting her thoughts for just long enough. "Tell him I'm sorry, will you?" Millie's brown eyes connected with his, her desire to trust almost too much for his conscience to bear. "I'm going to go and get these tapes. Good idea to get your mother to come over. Meet me back at the station? Don't rush though, take all the time you need here." And with only the quickest kiss, he was gone. Walking out through the gates to his car left on the adjacent street with his phone held to his ear. Millie sighed, took out her own phone and dialled. "Mum? It's me. Listen, something awful has happened. Can you …"