Perfect Strangers (27 page)

‘I don’t want to be looking out of the window wondering if my kids are going to see a squad car turning up at the house,’ he said, his voice serious, maybe even a little angry.

Sophie frowned.

‘You have kids?’

She heard the snort again.

‘One day.’

‘Well, you’d have to get married first,’ she said.

‘I’d have to find a wife first.’

‘What about the girl in Camden?’ she asked, remembering the alibi he had given her on the
Nancy Blue
.
What are you doing bringing
her
up like some jealous girlfriend?
she scolded herself.

‘Oh her,’ chuckled Josh. ‘I never did call her back. Some pretty Chelsea posh girl popped up and took up all my time.’

‘Do you want to? Call her back, I mean?’

She surprised herself, not just by asking the question, but at how bothered she was over what his response might be.

Josh paused for a long moment.

‘Probably not. She was some crazy musician chick and I think there’s enough excitement in my life right now.’

Sophie closed her eyes, wondering if that was Josh’s type; a boho beauty with a guitar and lots of piercings. She’d smell of exotic perfume, give him an expert blow job, then sing him to sleep. If she had been more awake, she might have recognised a brief flutter of envy about the unknown Camden musician, but her eyes were closing, heavy now, so heavy, and she couldn’t think about anything else except the gentle lull of the carriage rocking from side to side.

When she opened her eyes again, she could see Josh standing in the cramped space next to the bunks, his perfectly round bum pointing towards her as he bent over to pull up his trousers.

‘Sorry,’ she said, failing to avert her eyes from his naked back as he pulled on a new T-shirt.

‘Morning,’ he grinned playfully. ‘Thought I’d better smarten up my image if we’re going to do the Riviera properly.’

‘Where are we?’ she asked sleepily as he pulled up the blind.

‘Just past Antibes, so we should be there soon. You should wash, clean up. The toilets are just at the end of the carriage. They’re not great, but there’s water and I’ve got a spare toothbrush and some paste in my holdall.’

‘I don’t suppose you have any spare clothes in there?’

‘Nothing suitable for walking through Nice in broad daylight. Anyway, stop complaining. Those jeans suit you.’

She was still smiling to herself as she swayed down the corridor, bumping from side to side. She stopped to peer out of the window, squinting at the too-bright blue sky. It couldn’t be much past seven, but already the cloudless sky and the rising orange sun promised a glorious day.
As it should be for my glamorous time in the South of France
, she thought, before reminding herself that they were here to do a job. For now, though, she allowed herself to soak up the sights and sounds, enjoying the sensation of the ice-cold water she splashed on her face in the toilet, feeling her energy rise as they approached Nice station. She had no idea what the day held, but there was an excitement, an anticipation of the unknown she was beginning to enjoy.

‘Let’s go,’ said Josh, picking up Sophie’s bag as she returned to the cabin, just as they pulled into the platform. ‘We could get the train to Cannes, but a cab should be quicker.’

They joined the rest of the passengers streaming from the train and through the barriers to the concourse, which was crowded with people waiting to get on the train for the return journey to Paris. Sophie was just looking for the sign for the taxi rank – at least ‘taxi’ was ‘taxi’, whatever country you were in – when Josh took her hand, gripping it tight.

‘Keep moving,’ he whispered.

Sophie did as she was told, matching his pace as they moved towards the exit.

‘What’s up?’

‘I think we’re being followed,’ he said under his breath. ‘Big guy, muscular, short black hair. Don’t look.’

But Sophie couldn’t help herself, glancing behind to see the man – unmistakable in an unseasonable black coat – pushing through the crowd while talking on his mobile phone.

She felt herself stiffen.

‘This way,’ said Josh, pulling her towards an exit sign to the left.

Suddenly Sophie felt someone grab her in a vice-like grip. Pain seared up her arm.

‘Josh!’ she screamed, meeting the second assailant eye to eye. Instinctively she swivelled around and kicked the man as hard as she could in the shin. He lost his grip, cursing in a language she didn’t recognise as Sophie sprinted for her life.

Josh caught up with her, grabbing her hand and pulling her out into the street, body-swerving a crate and dodging a crowd of teenagers standing at a bus stop. Out of the station, Sophie was immediately buffeted by noise and movement on all sides. The roar of traffic on the road, the blare of car horns, mopeds zipping in front of them, people everywhere. She didn’t have time to process it all, had to treat them all as objects to be avoided, to get past, to get away from.

‘Keep going,’ yelled Josh as they reached the other side of the road. Sophie didn’t need to look to know that the crop-haired man and his friend with the sore shin were close behind them. She could almost feel their feet pounding through the pavement. Fear and adrenalin made her run faster.

‘Down here!’ They plunged into a warren of back streets; hotels and cheap restaurants –
plenty of internet cafés around here
, Sophie thought crazily – with doorways and back entrances providing a wealth of places to hide, but they couldn’t stop; one blind alley and they could be trapped. They sprinted out of a narrow street and on to another main road.

‘Look out!’ Sophie screamed as Josh was almost tossed over the bonnet of a white taxi with a squeal of brakes.

‘
Monsieur! Monsieur!
’ he cried, waving to the driver. ‘
Arrêtez!
’

He yanked the cab’s door open and they both fell inside.

‘
Allez, tout de suite, s’il vous plaît!
’ he shouted. ‘
Vite, vite!
’

Mercifully, the driver did as he was told and they jerked into motion. But their relief was short-lived. Through the rear window, Sophie could see the two men jumping into a car just behind them.

‘That’s not a taxi,’ panted Josh. ‘There’s more of them.’

Josh turned to the driver and told him to take a quick left, then a right. As soon as they were around a corner, he yelled for the cab to stop. Pushing a fifty-euro note into the cabbie’s hand, they jumped out and Josh slammed his hand on the roof of the car.

‘Drive!’ he yelled, pointing down the road. The man didn’t need telling twice, and squealed off, leaving twin rubber burns on the tarmac.

‘In here,’ said Josh, diving through the open door of a hotel to their left. Moving quickly, but casually enough not to draw attention to themselves, they walked through the lobby and followed the sign to ‘
La Piscine
’.

‘Keep moving,’ panted Josh. ‘They’ll spot we’re not in that taxi any minute.’

Sophie squinted as they stepped out into the bright sun again, shards of light glinting off the blue water of the pool. There were people laying out their towels for sunbathing and the happy noise of children splashing in the shallow end; it seemed so strange, incongruous when they were running for their lives.

‘There,’ she said, spotting a gate at the back of the hotel grounds. Quickly checking that the lane behind it was clear, they ducked through and found themselves in a loading area for a restaurant; the kitchen doors were open at the back and the driver of a delivery van was wheeling a crate inside.

Josh pointed at the rear doors of the van, still open with the ramp down.

‘Come on, inside,’ he said.

The back of the van was piled high with boxes and crates, but there was just enough space to squeeze behind them. Sophie froze as there was a clank, then a thud – and darkness as the driver closed the doors. She held her breath, only relaxing slightly when the diesel engine growled into life and they began to move. As they turned a corner, the boxes began to shift, and Sophie had to grab on to the side of the van, feeling Josh’s knee stabbing into her ribcage.

‘How long do you think we’re going to be stuck in here?’ she whispered.

‘Until he makes his next pit stop, I guess.’

That could be hours
, thought Sophie. He could be going to Turkey for all they knew. She could feel the van take a left turn, then a right. It picked up speed, and from the change of gear and the rev of the engine, she could tell that they were going uphill. It was pitch black and hot in the back, and the dust from the floor was tickling her nose, but with every moment she felt a growing sense of relief; they had escaped again – but it had been close, very close.

‘How the hell did they find us?’ Josh hissed in the dark. ‘Damn Maurice; he was the only person who knew we were coming down here. You can bet he would have squealed if the Russians offered him some roubles.’

‘Russians?’ whispered Sophie. She remembered the man swearing as she had kicked him; it hadn’t been French, that was for sure. Had it been the same men as the night by the river? Had they followed them all this way? Somehow that was all the more terrifying – whatever they thought she had, they must really want it badly.

‘Russians, Germans, I don’t bloody know who they are,’ growled Josh. ‘All I know is they were waiting for us – they must have known we were on the train.’

Sophie felt a sudden wave of guilt.

‘It could have been me,’ she said quietly.

She waited for Josh to reply, but he didn’t say anything.

‘I’m so sorry, Josh,’ she whispered. ‘When you were buying the tickets, I phoned my mother. I thought it would be okay because we were leaving the city,’ she said, her words quickening up as she tried to explain herself. ‘As I was talking, there was a tannoy announcement about the departure to Nice and I said “I’ve got to go”. So stupid, it must have been obvious.’

‘But that would mean they’ve been bugging your mum’s phone,’ said Josh.

‘She did say she had been burgled. Maybe—’

‘You stupid bloody idiot,’ he growled, his voice rising. ‘You could have got us both killed, do you realise that? In fact you still might – why can’t you do anything I ask?’

‘Shh!’ she hissed. ‘Calm down, the driver will hear us.’

‘Fuck the driver!’ he snapped.

‘Look, it was a mistake, Josh. I’m sorry.’

‘The mistake was getting involved with you in the first place,’ he barked. ‘I could have been sitting on my boat right now, drinking a beer, enjoying the sunshine. But no, I got sucked in by a damsel in distress. I took pity on you and look where it’s got me! In the back of a bloody van hiding from an entire team of well-organised goons who all seem to want to kill you. I’m starting to think they’ve got a bloody point!’

‘Josh, please! None of this is my fault . . .’

‘Yeah? Well, those Russians or whatever they are seem to think differently. What is it they want from you, Sophie? You’ve clearly got something if they’re going to the effort of bugging your mother and following you to France. What do you know? Because I’m starting to think there’s something you’re not telling me.’

‘I don’t know anything!’ she shouted, but then was thrown backwards against the side of the van as it screeched to a halt. They heard footsteps on the pavement and then the back of the van opened, blinding them with the sudden light.

‘
Mon Dieu!
’

Calmly Josh stood up, ducking his head under the roof of the van.

‘
Bonjour
,’ he said to the flabbergasted driver. ‘
Excusez-moi. Je pense que nous sommes perdus
.’

Sophie crawled out from under the boxes and sheepishly followed Josh on to the street. The driver just stood there, his mouth open, watching as they walked away.

They were in a high part of the city, looking down over the terracotta rooftops of Nice, and beyond that the glistening silver of the Mediterranean. If she squinted, Sophie could just about make out the station and the train tracks that snaked out east and west. There was a bang behind them and they turned to see the van pull away.

‘There goes our ride,’ said Josh. He didn’t look angry any more, just shaken and resigned.

‘What did you say to him?’ asked Sophie.

‘I’m sorry, I think we are lost.’

Sophie couldn’t help it: she burst out laughing.

25

It hadn’t been a productive day at the
Washington Tribune
’s London bureau. Ruth rubbed her eyes and gave her piece one last read before submitting it.
Looking radiant in a scarlet Issa dress, Kate held her husband’s hand and waved to the small crowd
. . . She smiled ruefully; a story on the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge visiting the American Embassy for a tea party wasn’t exactly Watergate, was it? Normally Ruth would have passed something like this on to Jim’s PA Rebecca – she seemed to love these kind of assignments – but as Rebecca had called in sick with a bout of menstrual cramps, Ruth had been forced to bite the bullet. Jim wanted 750 upbeat, smiley words about the royals meeting the ambassador, and Ruth needed to keep him sweet while she worked on the Riverton murder.

Clicking the ‘send’ button on her computer, she pulled out her earplugs, sat back in her chair and took a swig of her coffee.
Eww – stone cold
. She desperately needed a caffeine hit if she was going to make it to the end of the day; she’d been pulling too many late nights recently.

‘Hey, Chuck,’ she said, waving her paper cup at her colleague across the office. ‘Any chance of doing a coffee run?’

Chuck smiled and held up his own cup.

‘I went ten minutes ago,’ he said. ‘I did ask, but you had your headphones on and I didn’t want to disturb the master at work.’

Dammit
. She dropped her coffee cup into the trash bin and looked across to Jim’s office; the lights were off. Chuck was right, Ruth had been ‘in the zone’, bent over her computer writing her royals story for the last hour – she hadn’t even noticed the bureau chief leave.

‘Where’s the boss man got to?’ she asked Chuck.

‘Pub, round of golf, shopping for shoes? Who knows – he never shares his plans with me.’