I drove in silence after that, for I had something new to consider. I had marked my cousin down as something of a wimp, but it was all too clear that I’d been wrong. He’d bladed Bromberg without hesitation. He’d fired a shot that might have killed Caballero, for all we knew at that point, without even thinking about it. There was a dangerous side to him, and no mistake.
‘There’s a turning just ahead,’ he said, plucking me from my thoughts, ‘on the right. The road gets a bit bumpy after that, but follow it. It won’t be too comfortable for our passenger, but he’s asked for more than that.’
He was right about the track. The big car had luxury suspension, but even with that we were bounced about in our seats.
‘I’d have been back there if he’d had his way,’ I growled, through clenched teeth. Then I frowned as the obvious question finally forced its way out. ‘Frank, how come you showed up at the hotel in the nick of time, so to speak?’
‘I’ve been on the look-out for you,’ he replied, ‘since you left that ferocious message in my voicemail.’ He chuckled. ‘By the way, I do know what an orchidectomy is.’
‘You picked that up? So why didn’t you call me back?’
‘I’ve been keeping radio silence on the mobile. These things can be traced, you know, as easily as you can pin down a land-line call, maybe even more so. I knew you’d be flying down, and I could guess from where, so I staked out all the incoming Barcelona traffic at the airport, spotted you, and followed you, right to your hotel.’
‘So why didn’t you do the obvious and come in? Didn’t you want to be found?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t that. I couldn’t be sure they weren’t following you too.’
‘They?’
He held up a hand. ‘Later, Prim. Like I said, the whole story, I promise.’ He stopped, then pointed ahead. ‘We’re here. Draw up by that building.’
We were in flat, arid open country, several hundred hectares by the look of it, well enough for all the website claimed was going to happen on the site. All around there was nothing to be seen, save for a big brick barn, with sliding iron doors made of corrugated iron and a pitched roof. I parked beside it as instructed.
‘You’ve been here before?’ I asked, as we stepped out into the blazing hot afternoon.
‘Sure, with him.’
‘Why are we here now? This doesn’t exactly look like a getaway route.’
‘Ah, but it is, cuz.’ He slid one of the barn doors open. It creaked, but moved easily, for its size. ‘Caballero keeps a few toys here: he’s got a quad bike, a few trail motorcycles and, of course, a four-by-four. I think we’ll borrow that for the next stage of our trip.’
I looked inside. Sure enough, the barn contained an array of recreational vehicles. ‘And what about him?’
‘Let’s see, shall we?’ He reached inside the car and pressed a button. The boot catch popped and the lid swung open.
Caballero’s eyes screwed tight as the sunlight hit him. His face was beetroot and he was soaked with sweat. The cream suit would never be the same again. He groaned, and made to get out until Frank waved the gun in his face.
‘Stay where you are,’ he snapped, in Spanish. ‘You’re getting no kindness from me, you bastard. Prim, do me a favour and get my rucksack.’
That was what he’d chucked into the back seat as he’d got into the car outside the hotel, a black bag with a single shoulder strap. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ve found it.’ It was weighty; I wondered what the hell he had in it.
‘Give it to me, please.’
Again, I did as he asked. He unzipped it, took out a bottle of water, and held it up for Caballero to see. ‘This is for you.’ He placed it on the ground, then slammed the boot lid shut once more. ‘Eventually.’
He walked round the car and shot out the tyres, one by one. ‘Can’t have him coming after us,’ he explained, as if I was a simpleton.
The keys were in the ignition of the four-by-four, a silver Suzuki Grand Vitara. Frank took the wheel. ‘No offence,’ he said, as we reversed out of the barn, ‘but I know where we’re going, so I’ll drive.’
‘Fair enough,’ I agreed. ‘That was a nice trick,’ I added, ‘bursting his tyres. But won’t he come after us on one of the bikes just as easily, once he gets out of there?’
‘True,’ Frank admitted. He stopped the car, got out and went back into the barn. I watched him as he picked up a container, as he splashed its contents over all of the machines inside, and as he took a book of matches from his pocket, lit one, used it to ignite the others, and tossed it on to the quad bike. Finally, almost as an afterthought, he threw the gun inside too. As he slid the door closed I could see the flames beginning to bloom like roses in an accelerated frame-by-frame nature film.
‘He will get out of there, won’t he?’ I asked, as we drove off.
‘Sure. Those things have a manual release inside the boot. They’re American made: I suppose they fit it in case you’re snatched by Big Tony Soprano and the boys.’
‘What if he doesn’t know that?’
Frank gave me the smile again. I felt a tremor as I realised just how much it reminded me of Oz. ‘Then that’ll be just too damn bad for him,’ he said.
Nineteen
‘What’s the game plan?’ I asked, as we headed back towards the city. ‘Indeed, do you have a game plan?’
‘Oh, yes,’ my cousin replied, ‘and it’s a good one. But rather than have me describe it, just watch, Primavera, watch and learn. Where did you get that name anyway?’
‘From my mum.’ I let out a small, outraged snort. ‘And don’t you go there with the names, Frances. At least mine was planned, not an accident forced upon me by an intellectually under-developed employee.’ To my surprise, I found that even under all that stress I was laughing.
‘I can only blame her for the girlie first one,’ he confessed. ‘The other, that was all dear old Ade’s idea.’
‘Ulverscroft?’
‘Yes. It’s a publishing company; they specialise in large-print books.’
‘For the hard of hearing?’
He grinned. ‘No, you’re thinking of the taped version. Do you know,’ he went on, ‘that this has now become the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and probably the longest time we’ve ever spent in each other’s company.’
‘Not quite,’ I advised him. ‘The first time you came to visit us my dad took the three of us, you, me and Dawn, to the beach in St Andrews. I remember it, because I didn’t want to go, but Mum persuaded me that he wouldn’t know what to do when you had “little boy’s needs”, as she put it.’
‘What the hell did that mean?’
‘It meant that I had to take you to the ladies’ toilet, and make sure you did everything properly.’
‘You mean you got to watch?’
‘And worse. You were only just three at the time.’
‘You’ll be glad to hear that I can go on my own now.’
‘So could Tom, when he was that age. So can Charlie, and he’s even younger.’
‘You have two kids? I thought. .’
‘Charlie’s a Labrador.’
‘My God. Who was the father?’
‘Shut up and drive, you idiot.’
He did, into a small commercial area to the south-west of the city, where he parked in a supermarket car park, well away from the store.
‘Are we going to shop our way to freedom?’ I asked.
‘I told you. Watch and learn.’
He reached into his pocket and produced the most elaborate Swiss Army knife I’d ever seen. ‘Is that what you used on Bromberg?’
‘Yup. Specially sharpened to meet the need, should it arise. Three-inch blade, but that will do the job, as you saw. And, of course, it does many other things.’
From its many tools, he selected a Phillips. . no relation. . screw-driver, jumped out of the car and proceeded to remove the number-plates. ‘Back in a minute,’ he said, when he was done, and disappeared into the rows of parked cars.