Red Notice

26

Twenty miles to the west, Tom was burning his way through the motorway traffic and trying to make himself heard above the throaty rasp of the German engine as he talked to Gavin via the Bluetooth connection in his helmet.

‘Of course I’ve tried her mobile. It’s just going straight to voicemail.’

‘Keep trying,’ Gavin said. ‘I’m sure she’ll pick up.’

‘I don’t think so, mate. She’s closed down comms so I can’t try and persuade her to change her mind.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Try and persuade her to change her mind, of course. So, have you got the manifest? Which train is she on?’

‘I hope you know I could get binned for this.’ Gavin was in the office, tapping away on the team’s secure PC. It was normally used for checking women’s number-plates to find out if they’d been bullshitting during the chat-up phase.

‘You did it for Jockey last year and you didn’t get binned then.’

‘True enough. But no one found out about that and, anyway, Jockey wasn’t on thirty-minute standby at the time.’

The Blue team was on thirty-minute standby for the next month. None of the team members was allowed to leave Hereford: they had to be back in the Lines within half an hour if COBRA pressed the button. If your call-out alarm went off on your belt or bedside cabinet and you didn’t get there on time, you were in the binning zone.

‘Relax,’ Tom said. ‘I’ll be back in H before Ashton’s finished having his cuts and bruises treated. He won’t even know I’ve been away. And you owe me big-time after the wad I put in your pocket last night.’

‘Bastard.’

There was a pause as Gavin worked his way through the Eurostar passenger listings. Like airline passenger manifests, they were routinely circulated to all anti-terrorist forces. ‘Got it,’ he said. ‘You’re going to have to motor some to get there in time. She’s on the eight twenty-six. Coach Eight, seat thirty-two.’

‘Sort a ticket for me, will you? I don’t want just to wave at her from the champagne bar.’

‘Sure.’ Gavin took a deep breath. ‘But, mate, for fuck’s sake, don’t be stuck on that train when the doors close or that’ll be both of us packed up, kicked out and down the road, looking for a new job.’

‘No drama. I’ll be back. Have I ever let you down before?’

‘You want the list?’

Tom had already broken the connection. The engine note rose to a howl as he twisted the throttle to the stops. A Jag was hogging the fast lane, so he swerved left and right to overtake it on the inside.