Rags coughed out a laugh so loud with derision that it left a trail. ‘You’ve found nothing, so you want to be as awkward as possible. Is that it?’
‘I’m not debating the subject, sir. Just do it.’
‘Nevin,’ Rags called.
Nevin tapped Dylan on the shoulder and they jumped into the transporter to pop the tyres from the rims.
My breath caught when Nevin picked up the first of the wheels with the drugs inside. He and Dylan popped the rim. Nothing. No coke. Just air. I fought the urge to ask what was going on. These were the marked wheels, yet they were empty. Dylan and Nevin popped the next marked wheel. Again, nothing. Every wheel revealed the same — nothing.
Dylan jumped down from the transporter and stood next to me. ‘What just happened?’
‘I have no idea.’
All I knew was that Barrington wasn’t going to be happy.
Lap Thirty-Three
The Dutch police disappeared into the sunset. In typical fashion, they left the carnage of their fruitless search behind them. Cars, parts, tools and tyres littered the side of the road with no apology or offer to help put everything back.
No one spoke or moved, because Rags hadn’t spoken or moved. He just stood stock still, glaring at the cop cars’ taillights.
‘Get this shit packed up,’ he said when the last of the cop cars was long gone.
I grabbed a couple of wheels.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he barked at me.
‘Helping.’
‘You’re not here to help. You’re here to drive. And you’re not driving right now. I want you and you —’ Rags pointed at Haulk and me — ‘out of here. You’ve got a plane to catch. Now, get in the damn car. The rest of you, I expect everything on the roadside back on the transporter.’
Barrington had overplayed his hand with the road stop, but not all was lost. He’d beaten the bushes, so it was likely that something would come flying out. I was interested to see what Rags did next.
‘See ya back home,’ I said to Dylan.
‘I’ll tell you if anything interesting happens.’
Haulk patted me on the back as he crossed behind me. We followed Rags to his car. He left a thick pair of rubber streaks as he pulled away.
‘What do you think that was about?’ Haulk asked. He was a brave man to ask considering Rags’ mood.
‘What the fuck do you think? Someone is fucking with my team. First, they stitch Aidy up on reckless-driving charges. Now they’ve called in a bullshit trafficking claim that casts a dirty light on our team.’
It was the first time Rags had showed any sign that he believed in my innocence. That threw me. Did he really believe what he’d just said? Was he unaware of the fact his team was being used as a drug-smuggling operation or was it just smoke for our benefit? Barrington saw the whole team as dirty, but that might not be true.
‘Who’s they?’ Haulk asked.
‘Another team. They can’t beat us on the track, so they want to ruin us off the track.’
‘Which one?’
‘Take your pick. Any one of these fuckers would like to take us down.’
The conversation was quelling Rags’ anger, but it wasn’t lightening his foot on the accelerator. We were hitting motorway speeds on the two-lane road.
‘What about Jason Gates?’ I asked. ‘Do you think his murder is part of this too?’
The vibe inside the car shifted awkwardly.
Rags eyed me in his rear-view mirror.
‘I find it hard to believe that someone would kill Jason just to fuck with the team,’ I said. I looked to Haulk and Rags to either agree or shoot me down and got nothing.
‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ Rags said.
And we didn’t talk about anything else until we reached the airport. Haulk and I grabbed our bags from the boot before Rags slammed the boot lid shut.
‘If anyone approaches you two for comment, play dumb and refer them to me. OK?’
We nodded.
Rags burnt more rubber rejoining the airport traffic and I wished I was going with him. I didn’t want him out of my sight.
‘Aidy, I hear the siren song of the airport bar calling our names,’ Haulk said. ‘We deserve a drink.’
There was no arguing with that point.
We passed through airport security and Haulk bought me a drink while we waited for our flight to be called.
‘If Rags wasn’t such a magician when it came to the cars, I’d be off this team,’ Haulk said. ‘I like my excitement on the track, not off it.’
‘Preaching to the choir,’ I said.
‘You’re the lucky one here. You’re on a one-year deal. This kind of crap won’t stick to you, but I still have another year on my contract.’
How little he knew. I’d count myself bloody lucky to come out of this one unscathed.
I spent the next hour listening to Haulk’s war stories from his racing career. It was an education for me. He’d done it all and I hoped I would too, if I could keep Andrew Gates, HM Customs and the police at bay. One of those might be doable. All three seemed impossible. Haulk’s stories continued during the flight, but ended when we reached Heathrow, where we went our separate ways.
Steve was waiting for me at the airport. He took my bag from me.
‘How’d it all go?’ he asked.
‘Good and awful. Barrington pulled the team over and found nothing. Everything’s in shambles.’
‘Where’s that leave us?’
‘I don’t know.’
Steve had just weaved his way through the airport road system when my mobile rang. Dylan’s name appeared on the screen.
‘Where are you?’ he asked. Excitement boiled over in his voice.
‘Just leaving the airport.’
‘Don’t go home.’
‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘I’m in Rags’ car. I’m driving it back. He’s on the next flight to Stansted.’
‘Why’s he flying?’
‘It has something to do with a phone call he got. He got back to us just as we’d pretty much loaded everything back on to the transporter; then his phone rang. He took the call in his car, but from his body language, it didn’t go well. Afterwards he tossed me his keys and said to drive him to the airport. He’s on an EasyJet flight that’s scheduled to land around nine thirty.’
‘He’s flying back to meet with someone.’
‘No shit. That’s why you need to follow him.’
That gave us a little over two hours to get from Heathrow to Stansted. The sixty-mile trip should only take an hour, but with the evening traffic, we could be unlucky.
‘You might have just saved us.’
‘I know, so don’t screw it up. Keep in touch.’
‘Will do. Thanks, mate.’ I hung up on Dylan and told Steve to drive to Stansted. ‘We have to get there before nine thirty.’
‘We’ll do it.’
Traffic was thick but flowing. Steve kept his foot down, cutting in and out of traffic. Every mile seemed to take an age to cover as the minute hand on the dashboard clock swept across its face. Despite my fears, we arrived at the airport with forty minutes to spare.
Steve parked in the short-stay car park. I told him to be ready to move when Rags touched down.
‘At nearly five pounds an hour, you bet your arse I’ll be ready to move.’
I smiled. Steve smiled back.
‘Just don’t let him see you,’ Steve said.
‘I won’t.’
I paced in the arrivals lounge, counting down the minutes until Rags’ flight arrived. I didn’t think we’d get another shot at this. Not after the road stop. Everyone was going to be cagey from now on.
I called Barrington’s number. He didn’t answer. I tried twice more over the next twenty minutes and still got no answer. I didn’t know what his game was, but it was pissing me off.
I called Claudia and she answered on the first ring. ‘Aidy.’