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.’
‘I can do that.’
I expected to haggle. Maybe Customs did have some special skills. ‘Good.’
Claudia looked towards France, now large on the horizon. ‘We’ll be arriving soon. Do you ’ave questions?’
‘So how did you end up working for Her Majesty’s government?’
‘There was a joint taskforce between French and British authorities. After the case, Barrington put in a request to borrow me for this operation. I accepted. This investigation will be good for my career.’
‘You want to be France’s number one cop?’
‘Or ’igher.’
I grinned. It was so damn hard to dislike Claudia.
A horn blared and an announcement followed telling all passengers to return to their vehicles. We followed the crush of people back down to the car decks. Claudia held the door open to my deck and followed me out. On the car deck, the roar of the ferry’s diesel engines was deafening. She escorted me back to my car, where Dylan stood waiting.
‘Where are you parked?’
She pointed to her Peugeot four cars back. I shook my head. I hadn’t even noticed her when we’d parked. God, I wasn’t the man for Barrington’s job, or even Andrew Gates’.
‘Don’t let it get to you. You were tired and your mind was on your problems.’
She kissed me on the cheek and walked back to her car. Watching her go, something occurred to me.
I called after her: ‘Is Claudia your real name?’
She turned and shook her head.
‘Then what is it?’
She said something, but I couldn’t hear it over the roar of the boat’s engines.
Daylight flooded the car deck when the bow doors opened and the roar of dozens of car engines bursting into life filled the air. I guided the car off the ferry, fully aware that a satellite was beaming our position to some nameless, faceless person.
Dylan and I passed through French Customs and passport control without incident and picked up the road heading to Reims. I wound up the speed and found a nice groove that ate away at our arrival time display on the sat nav.
‘You looking to pick up a ticket?’ Dylan asked.
‘The faster we get there, the faster we’re rid of this car and whatever we’re carrying.’
‘Good point. Keep your foot down.’