Poking his head around the corner, Grant didn’t see anyone or hear the sound of feet slapping against pavement. Again, the two took off, running straight ahead. Grant knew this part of town. The next main road was Fore Street, with a parking lot about two blocks down. Fore Street was one way, with traffic heading in their direction.
When they reached the corner, they stopped. There was a steady stream of traffic. People walked on both sides, looking in shop windows. The “raincoat man” was nowhere to be found.
Grant whispered to Adler, “Take the opposite side.” Adler waited until a car passed, then he darted across the street, ducking into a narrow alley next to a fish ‘n’ chips cafe. He signaled Grant he was ready.
Grant cautiously came around the corner. Staying close to the building, he walked faster. Folding his right arm across his middle, he tried to hide the weapon under his left arm. He maneuvered his way around people stopping to look in shops.
Adler wasn’t far behind on the opposite side, still ducking in and out of doorways. He’d stop, look at Grant, then try and find the suspect.
Grant was only a block away from the parking lot, when a sound of screeching tires and a loud revving engine made him tighten his grip on his gun. Within seconds a Range Rover came tearing out of the lot. The vehicle flew over the curb, continuing straight across Fore Street. The driver of an Austin Maxi hatchback hit the brakes, nearly broadsiding the Rover. People getting ready to cross the street jumped back, stunned.
The two Americans raced to the corner. Firing their weapons wasn’t going to be an option with so many civilians in the way.
Grant ran across the street, catching up to Adler. All they could do was watch the ass end of the Rover disappear around the bend onto Manor Road.
“Goddammit!” Grant said between clenched teeth.
“Just can’t seem to catch a break on this one, skipper,” Adler said, holstering his weapon. “There wasn’t even a license plate.”
Grant holstered his .45, finally taking his eyes from the now deserted road. As he turned, two men came up behind him and Adler.
“Bloody hell, mates!” the younger man said, eyeing the weapons in the holsters. “What the fuck happened?”
As he turned to leave, Grant responded, “Just a slight misunderstanding.”
“Quite the bloody misunderstanding, I have to say!”
Without further response, the Americans kept walking, looking toward South Quay. Henley was sitting in the van, parked at the corner, nervously slapping his hand against the outside of the door.
“C’mon,” Grant said. “Let’s try our luck at St. Columb and hope we can find that bastard Webb.
“What about the admiral? Aren’t you gonna call him?”
Grant stopped short. His frustration and lack of time were getting the best of him. He pushed his cap back with his thumb. Looking at his good friend, he could only shake his head.
“Jesus Christ, Joe! I don’t know which way to go first. We’ve gotta find Webb. We’ve gotta find Victoria, the ‘raincoat man,’ and then there’s the little issue of nukes. What the shit am I supposed to do?”
Adler rested a hand on Grant’s shoulder. “You do what you always do, skipper. You know, listen to that little gut thing of yours. I know it’s in there somewhere,” he said, pointing at Grant’s middle.
The two friends just stared at each other. Adler noticed a look in Grant’s eyes that gave him pause. He stepped closer. “Are you okay, I mean, are you having any pain?”
“Like I told the admiral, I’m working at a hundred ten percent.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been known to bend the goddamn truth more than once, haven’t you?”
Grant took a deep breath. “Help me out here, Joe.”
“Just name it.”
Grant finally gave one of his unmistakable shit-eat’n grins. “Help me do what we do best.”
“You mean find the freakin’ bad guys?”
“Fuckin’ A, my friend! Fuckin’ A!”
The two walked to the van, but as they walked side by side, Adler looked at Grant out of the corner of his eye. He knew Grant was just covering up. He was hurting for sure.
Grant yanked the door open and climbed into the front seat. He had to find out who “raincoat man” was. His best shot was the rental boat shack.
“Think we’d better take you home, Jack.”
“What the fuck do you mean, take me home?! Who the hell was that guy? And what about my wife?!”
“That’s why you need to go home! Look, she may try to contact you, or maybe she’s already there. Come on. Get movin’.” Henley pulled out onto Fore Street.
Adler sat quietly, looking at Grant. Whatever the plan was, it kept changing every time they turned around.
He leaned his head back against the seat, resting his hands on his stomach. The rumbling was non-stop. Maybe he needed to have Grant teach him some of that karate shit. He needed to learn discipline and concentration. Nothing else had worked to divert his thoughts from food.
Within ten minutes Henley pulled up to his house. No lights were on, inside or out. Adler handed him the house keys.
Henley got out. Grant slid over to the driver’s seat as Adler climbed in the passenger side.
Grant rolled down the window. “I’ll have one of your men pick you up in the morning. If you hear from your wife, call us. But promise me you won’t do anything without us. Hear me?” Then Grant lowered his voice. “Listen, Jack, we’re going to find her. You’ve gotta trust us.” He extended a hand to Henley.
Henley nodded, as Grant said, “Wait. Give us Webb’s address in case CID needs it.”
Adler wrote down the St. Columb Major address, wondering why Grant even brought up CID.
Henley turned away, then walked to the house.
As Grant drove to the end of the cul-de-sac, Adler asked, “Why the hell did you say it was for CID?”
“Didn’t want him to think we were going. I’ve had enough of his bullshit.”
Grant drove past the house slowly. A light in the kitchen had just come on.
“That’s all you can do, skipper. Time to stop the babysitting.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
Grant put on the turn signal and stopped at the bottom of the road, waiting for a lorry (truck) to pass. As he made the right-hand turn, Adler asked, “So, what’s next?”
“I’ve gotta find out who that guy was. There’s something about him, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’m thinking the best shot is the rental shack. They’ve gotta have records. Maybe we can get a name.”
“I’m assuming we’re waiting till it gets dark,” Adler said.
“We’ll get you some chow, don’t worry.”
Adler put his hands together as if in prayer. “Thank you!”
Labeaux looked in the side mirror, not seeing any other vehicle behind them. “Slow down! We don’t want to draw any further attention.”
Webb eased his foot from the accelerator, and glanced quickly at Labeaux. “Who the hell were those bloody men?” he asked, without really expecting an answer.
Labeaux put an elbow on the armrest. He remained quiet. He thought about when he left the harbor with Farrell. Two men were on the breakwater casually glancing at them. But maybe it wasn’t just a casual glance after all, because one of the men chasing him tonight was one of those two. Seeing him through the binoculars had convinced him.
Concerned, Labeaux retraced in his mind this evening’s events, seeing the man being allowed to pass through the barricades, then inspecting the body. It had to be someone with credentials of some type. There wasn’t any reason for the British government to be involved over a body found in the bay. He wasn’t wearing any uniform, so maybe he was a local detective.