Part 22 (2/2)

Lotfi came back. ”I'm going for coffee. H, what would you like-cappuccino?”

There was no reply to that-or, at least, not on the net.

Cars trundled around the large gra.s.s- and tree-covered square. The sore on my stomach was trying hard to scab but the hammer on my Browning wasn't going to let it. No matter, two more days and the weapon could go into the sea. I felt into my hairline above my forehead; at least a scab had sealed the headb.u.t.t split.

I drank coffee and watched doorsteps being washed, and rat dogs being walked by their owners and having a dump everywhere they could. I could sit here for an hour or so and no one would see it as anything out of the ordinary.

I started to think about the police but cut away quickly. If they planned to do anything we would know about it soon enough. And there was nothing we could do about them in the meantime.

I stretched out my legs under the table, and thought about Hubba-Hubba cramped up in the back of the small van. Although Lotfi and I were covering the two stations, we also had to make sure we were close enough to give him support if someone wanted to get their hands on a new van for minimal outlay. We'd have to get in there quick, mainly to help Hubba-Hubba, but also to salvage the operation.

The sun rose gradually over the buildings and began to warm the right side of my face. I took another sip of coffee and dunked the end of a croissant.

Lotfi was exactly on time with the eight o'clock call. ”Radio check. H?”

Click, click.

I could hear a dog barking in the background. That was all they seemed to do around here, bark and c.r.a.p. I hadn't seen one chase after a stick.

”N?”

I reached under my new green Cap 3000 sweats.h.i.+rt and double-clicked on my belt, then sat back, stabbed at the croissant crumbs on the napkin with a coffee-wet finger and waited for the stand-by.

Another twenty-seven minutes pa.s.sed and I was waiting for Lotfi to start the next radio check. Hubba-Hubba came on the net, his voice agitated. ”H has lost the trigger...There's a truck in the way. H has lost the trigger. N, L, acknowledge.”

I hit the pressle. ”Roger that. N's going for the trigger. L, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

I got up and started to move as I wiped my cup and took the napkin. Nearly running through the old town, I climbed the stone steps in the small, cobblestoned square. As my head got level with the concrete between the two sides of the ramparts, I saw the Renault, still reversed against the wall, now with another car parked to its right.

Two other people were up there with me, old men chatting with each other by the rampart overlooking the port, where the wrought-ironwork met the stone. I hit the pressle before I got too close as I took the last few steps up onto the wall.

”N has the trigger. N has the trigger. H, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

I got up top and looked out over the port, between the van and the other car. I gave myself some time to admire the effect of the dazzling sun bouncing off the water around so many hulls. If Hubba-Hubba had any sense, he'd be using the time to rest his eyes.

I checked that the blinds and gangway were still the same, then down over the wall and left, into the dead ground, to make sure the Romeos hadn't decided to move out in the minute or so it had taken to regain the trigger and weren't walking along the quay. I could see the Scudo, reversed into a s.p.a.ce so that the rear blacked-out windows faced toward me. The vehicle blocking Hubba-Hubba's view was a small, refrigerated van picking up crates of fish from the boats. I got my eyes back on the Ninth of May Ninth of May as a pa.s.sionate conversation was developing on the other side of the police van, and saw movement on the bigger as a pa.s.sionate conversation was developing on the other side of the police van, and saw movement on the bigger Lee Lee. Three kids, aged from ten to twelve, were doing boaty jobs on the deck. Two adults, whom I presumed were their parents, were in chairs at the back, drinking coffee.

Still playing the tourist, I stared out at the fort overlooking the ma.s.s of masts and glittering hulls. In less than five minutes the fish van was on its way back through the archway. I moved back toward the steps. ”h.e.l.lo, H, that's the truck clear. Acknowledge.”

I stayed up top, waiting for Hubba-Hubba to take over as the two old men sauntered past behind me, their arms flying around as they put the world to rights. They disappeared down the stairs with their dogs in tow. I suddenly felt naked, with my back to the van and no one else here.

”H has the trigger. N, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

I'd finished my bit of tourism and headed back to the steps, wondering where I'd go now for another coffee.

Three paces down I got click, click, click, click click, click, click, click in my earpiece. I smiled, slowed down, and hit the pressle. ”Is that a stand-by from H?” in my earpiece. I smiled, slowed down, and hit the pressle. ”Is that a stand-by from H?”

Click, click.

s.h.i.+t, they were early.

”Are they both foxtrot?”

Click, click.

”Are they dressed the same as yesterday?”

Nothing.

”Are they carrying a bag?”

Click, click.

Then he came on the net. ”Romeo One has the same bag. It's full. They're both wearing jeans.” The net went dead momentarily. ”That's approaching the archway.”

I stayed put, smiled some more, and sat on the stone step. ”N can take, N can take. L, where are you?”

”Nearly at the station, nearly there.” His voice merged with the pa.s.sing traffic.

”H still has Romeo One and Two, at the archway...Wait...wait, that's now crossing the road, toward me. They're staying on this side of the wall.”

The radio went dead as I started down the stairs again into the square and right toward the archway. If they had a camera in the Renault, I bet it had been snapping away big-time.

45.

I got to the arch and waited for information. It wasn't long before Hubba-Hubba came back on the air. ”That's Romeo One and Two in the parking lot, following the wall and unsighted to me.” got to the arch and waited for information. It wasn't long before Hubba-Hubba came back on the air. ”That's Romeo One and Two in the parking lot, following the wall and unsighted to me.”

I went through the archway, turned left, and could see their backs immediately among the lines of vehicles.

”N has Romeo One, Romeo Two foxtrot. Halfway along the old wall, generally toward the train station. L, acknowledge.”

An out-of-breath Lotfi did just that. ”L has the trigger on the station.”

”Roger that, L. Romeo One, black leather jacket on jeans, carrying the bag. Romeo Two, brown suede jacket on jeans. L, acknowledge.”

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