Hot Seat (20 page)

‘Tell me what happened, Jason.'

The doorbell rang before Jason's ghost could answer.

I locked the situation room and jogged through the workshop to the rear entrance. I opened the door to find Sergeant Lucas standing there.

‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?'

‘I've come to examine the van.'

I glanced over at the empty space where it usually sat. ‘My grandfather is out in it at the moment. You should have made an appointment.'

‘I did.'

‘Oh. He didn't mention it. He shouldn't be long then. Do you want to come in?'

‘No, I need to examine the trailer. But can you call your grandfather and tell him to hurry it along? I don't have all day.'

I retreated back into the workshop and called Steve. ‘Sergeant Lucas is here.'

‘Shit, let me finish up and I'll be back in half an hour.'

I hung up and rejoined Lucas outside. He was crouched over the trailer with a camera in hand.

‘Steve says he'll be back in thirty minutes.'

Lucas frowned.

‘Sorry.'

‘I'll give him thirty minutes. I'll let you know when I'm through.'

I didn't like leaving Lucas unsupervised. He didn't exactly have my best interests at heart. ‘I'll stick around if that's OK.'

Lucas went back to taking photos. ‘Suit yourself.'

He spent the next fifteen minutes taking pictures and making notes. When he was finished, he stood and checked his watch, then looked at me.

‘Find anything?' I asked. ‘Any signs of recent repairs?'

‘No. The trailer is clean.'

‘So I couldn't have run her off the road.'

‘I haven't seen the van yet.'

‘You won't find anything there either.'

‘The victim could have overreacted to an aggressive manoeuvre you made.'

The word victim grated against my skin. ‘I thought you said she claims I crashed into her.'

‘She may have thought that, but after the bang on the head she took and crash she endured, I doubt she was aware of a lot that happened.'

‘It looks as if you've made up your mind regardless of the evidence and my statement.' I put my hands together and held them out. ‘You'd better take me in.'

Lucas looked at my outstretched hands and frowned. ‘If there's an arrest to be made, I'll decide when it'll be made.'

‘We pissed off a lot of people that day. They should remember the incident. Have you asked for witnesses?'

‘If that proves necessary, it will be done. You know what the shame of this is? It was her new car.'

‘New?'

Lucas jerked a thumb at my Accord. ‘OK, it wasn't new-new like yours, but not everyone is as lucky as you. It was new to her. She'd had the car just two days before the crash.'

I found that interesting. Another milestone to be added to the timeline.

My mobile rang. It was Steve.

‘You need to pick me up, son. Some prick nicked the Transit.'

‘Shit,' I murmured. This looked bad. Actually, worse than bad. ‘I'll get over there as soon as I can,' I said and hung up.

Lucas crossed his arms across his chest. ‘Problem?' he asked.

‘I'd like to file a police report on a stolen van.'

Lucas' look of disapproval said everything.

‘I
t's going to be OK,' Dylan said for the third time.

We were driving to Ragged Racing. Today was the day I had to deliver the sponsor's tuned-up Honda Accord to Germany. We'd spent the drive to Banbury discussing the significance of someone stealing Steve's van. Dylan saw the theft as a potentially good thing.

‘Without the van, the cops can't prove the case one way or the other.'

While that was true, the van's disappearance didn't look good to Sergeant Lucas. It appeared as if we'd stage-managed the van's theft to prevent it from being examined. Without it, there was nothing left to investigate and it was put up or shut up time for the police. I had the feeling I'd be returning home from this trip to find charges filed against me.

We arrived at Ragged at six a.m. as instructed and found Rags stooped over the engine bay of the car I was to deliver. He had the engine plugged into his laptop.

‘Everything OK?' I asked.

Rags unplugged the laptop and dropped the bonnet. ‘Just making sure everything is perfect.'

I hoped that was all he was doing. After Barrington's revelations of drug smuggling, I wasn't sure what I thought of Rags now.

He looked me over. ‘I like that you remembered to dress up.'

I'd put on a Ragged Racing polo shirt. If I was meeting a sponsor, then I had to make a good impression.

Rags jerked a thumb at Dylan. ‘He dropping you off?'

I wasn't sure if I should read anything into that reaction. Did Rags want me to do this delivery alone for a reason? God, I was getting paranoid. It wasn't surprising with all the puppet masters pulling my strings.

‘Germany is a long way. I thought it would be good to have a co-pilot,' I said.

This wasn't strictly true. Yes, the drive would take all day, but I was a little tired of getting ambushed by everyone and their brother so I wanted someone as a witness and backup. Dylan had seen the situation a little differently when I mentioned my logic. He'd said, ‘Great, I get to be your red shirt.' It was a joke that cut to the quick. I had put Dylan in harm's way before, and his unquestioning loyalty had saved my life.

‘Good thinking,' Rags said, although he didn't sound convinced. ‘But those five hundred euros will have to cover expenses for the both of you. Just be back by Monday. Your mate's got a new job to start.'

‘No worries,' I said, knowing the money was unlikely to stretch to two airline tickets. We'd more than likely be returning by rail.

‘All right, then. Get on with it and for God's sake, don't pick up any speeding tickets.'

‘Hey, I'm a professional,' I said with a good amount of bravado.

That got me an eye roll and the flicker of a smile from Rags. Maybe I was winning him over.

He walked in the direction of his office and tossed a parting comment over his shoulder. ‘Let me know when you get there.'

I elected to drive the first leg and got behind the wheel. Dylan fed the sponsor's address in the sat nav. At this time of morning, traffic was light and I kept my foot down. I wanted this car delivered and out of my life as soon as possible.

As soon as we were on the road, I called Barrington. My call didn't seem to have awakened him. Maybe he didn't sleep.

I'd clued Barrington in on this run to Germany the second after Rags had assigned it to me at the workshop earlier in the week. I'd felt Barrington's excitement over the line. He had a plan in place, but Barrington being Barrington, he hadn't bothered to share any of the details other than I'd be meeting his undercover officer en route.

‘We're on the move,' I said. ‘What do you want me to do?'

‘Drive to Dover and take the nine o'clock ferry.'

‘We were going to take to the Channel Tunnel.'

‘Not anymore you're not. Take the ferry and my undercover agent will brief you.'

‘That'll slow us down.'

‘Aidy, please do as you're told. Be on that boat and wait in the restaurant. Your handler will contact you.'

I really was bought and paid for. ‘Is there a password?'

‘Cute,' he said and hung up.

We arrived in Dover just in time to catch the nine o'clock ferry. I got in line for passport control.

‘I'm actually enjoying this. Foreign travel. Fresh opportunities,' Dylan said.

I felt the opposite way. As we inched closer to the head of the line, my stomach churned. I'd put both of us at the mercy of others. I was operating on the assumption that everyone was playing straight with me. I was going on Rags' word that this delivery run was on the up and up and I wasn't playing mule in some drug trafficking scheme. I was going on Barrington's word that he wanted me to deliver the car to Germany. This ferry ride could all be part of some elaborate portside arrest. I'd be a fool to believe Barrington was my friend in all this. The tosser had already tried to fit me up once. There was nothing to say he wouldn't do it again, especially if this car was packed with drugs. I was at the wheel of a ticking time bomb and I couldn't see the clock.

‘Just remember why we're doing this,' I said.

Dylan had been smiling, but that killed it. ‘Do you hear that? That's the sound of you pissing on my fireworks.'

‘I'm just saying we don't know what we're involved in.'

‘No, you don't know what you're involved in, but you've dragged Steve and me into it.'

It was an unfair remark. Mainly because it was totally fair.

‘You don't have to come,' I said sincerely.

‘Sod it. I wasn't busy today.'

I smiled. ‘Thanks.'

‘I realize how bad this might get, so let's just get through it, whatever it turns out to be.'

I held my breath when we pulled up to passport control. Armed police didn't explode from unseen quarters and we weren't ripped from the car. The immigration officer just asked the purpose of our visit and waved us through.

We boarded and grabbed a table in the restaurant. I sat with my back to a bulkhead. I didn't want anyone sneaking up on me, especially my Customs handler. Any colleague of Barrington's wasn't a friend of mine.

As the ferry eased out of port, people migrated to the restaurant. Dylan and I watched for our undercover contact. No one stood out, but they shouldn't. It was the first rule of undercover work.

‘Crap,' Dylan said. ‘We've got a problem.'

I followed Dylan's gaze across the restaurant to Claudia. She looked sharp in jeans, knee-length boots and a leather biker's jacket over a form-fitting turtleneck jumper. How did she manage to look so good all the time regardless of the time of day? She smiled at me and cut through the human traffic to our table.

Crap was right. All I needed was Claudia hanging around with Barrington's man trying to make contact. Some days it wasn't good being me.

‘Bonjour, Aidy. It's lovely to run into you like this. Who's this?'

‘Hi, Claudia. This is my friend, Dylan.'

‘Do you 'ave a minute? I need to talk to you about your problem.'

‘I'm a little tied up at the moment.'

‘Aidy, you're on a ferryboat. You're not going anywhere. You 'ave some time to chat.'

I opened my mouth to lob another brush-off, but then I got it. Claudia was Barrington's undercover contact. She read my expression and nodded.

‘You're right. I've got a few minutes.'

‘That's wonderful,' she said.

Dylan picked up on his third wheel status and got up. ‘I'll go get us some breakfast.'

‘Take your time,' Claudia said and slid into Dylan's seat.

‘You must be good, because I would have never guessed. Did Barrington press gang you into service or are you a willing volunteer?'

‘I'm a British Customs officer.'

‘But you're French.'

Claudia grinned. ‘You British will take anyone.'

I felt I deserved that. ‘What happens now?'

‘I will give you tasks. You will carry them out.'

She looked over at Dylan who was in line getting two plates piled with food. He was shooting furtive glances our way. ‘You shouldn't 'ave involved anyone else.'

‘You have your people and I have mine. After what your boss has done to me, I need someone with my interests at heart. So what's the plan?'

‘Deliver the car as arranged. 'Ave you looked it over?'

‘No, I didn't know I was supposed to. I have to get the car to Munich by seven tonight. That doesn't leave much time to play detective.'

‘
Merde.
I was 'oping to 'and the car over to our people in France.' She held out her hand. ‘Give me your keys.'

I handed them over and she slipped from her seat, which Dylan filled a minute later after planting two breakfasts on the table.

‘Oh, she leaves a warm seat.'

‘You need a girlfriend.'

‘We both do. It might keep us out of trouble.'

When it came to lady love, Steve was the big winner amongst us. In the years since Gran had died, he'd put himself out there and was rarely without a lady on his arm.

Dylan shrugged and started in on his breakfast. He'd bought us both the full English – scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, tomatoes, baked beans and toast. I had no problems whipping a car around a track at triple-digit speeds, but the slow roll of a ferry cutting across the English Channel left me feeling queasy. I forced the food down since I'd need the energy for the long drive ahead.

Claudia returned as we were finishing our meals. There was no smile on display. She put my keys down on the table. ‘We need to talk. Alone.'

Dylan shrugged.

‘Don't wait up,' I said.

Dylan smiled.

We walked out on to the deck. We were certainly alone out here. The wind coming off the sea was biting. Claudia leaned against the safety rail with her back to the water.

‘We 'ave a problem. I found a GPS tracking device on the car. If you deviate from your route, someone will know.'

‘It could be an anti-theft device.'

She frowned at me.

‘OK. What happens now?'

‘Keep to the schedule. We 'ave the advantage of knowing your destination.'

‘As does whoever placed the tracker,' I added.

‘This will be an information-gathering exercise. Get names, places, whatever you can.'

‘If I'm going to do this, then I want something from you.'

‘Like what?'

‘Barrington says you have powers the cops don't have. I want to take advantage of that. Get me the name of the woman who's made the accusation that I wrecked her car.'