The Lost Testament

95

The autovia ran fairly straight once it had left a small development called Villanua, and a short distance further on, positioned at the top of a small hill that offered an excellent view both up and down the road, a young Spaniard who called himself ‘Juan’ had been positioned with very specific instructions, a two-way radio and a set of powerful binoculars. Every time a car appeared on the gentle bend in the road where the autovia emerged from Villanua, he’d focused the binoculars on it.

He’d been lying in that same spot for a little over seven hours, and had been told that he was to stay there until it was too dark to see the occupants of any of the passing traffic. He’d also been told that there was a bonus in it for him if he managed to identify the vehicle his people were looking for.

As another car came into view, he tensed, focusing the eyeglasses on it, concentrating on the occupants. The people who had given him his orders were well aware that their quarry might have changed the number plates, or even the car. Privately, he had assumed he was just wasting his time, and that the man and woman in question would be taking another route out of Spain. But it looked as if he’d been wrong about that. It was immediately apparent that there were two people in the vehicle, a large dark-haired man behind the wheel and a pretty blonde woman sitting in the front passenger seat.

Juan glanced down at the ground beside him, where he had a large A4-sized colour photograph of the woman they were looking for, then looked back through the binoculars. It was them.

The moment he was certain he picked up the two-way radio lying beside him and keyed the transmit button.

‘Miguel, soy Juan.’

For a few moments, there was no reply, and he imagined the man at the other end of the radio link, a couple of miles further up the valley, being almost startled by the hitherto-silent radio suddenly bursting into life. Then a deep voice, speaking heavily accented Spanish, sounded from the earpiece.

‘Si. Dígame. What is it?’

‘I’m looking at them, right now. They’re in a silver-grey Renault Megane, the same car as before, but the number plates have obviously been changed.’

When Miguel replied, his voice was tinged with excitement.

‘Are you sure? Completely certain?’

‘Yes. I’ve got a photograph of the woman. It’s definitely her.’

‘Right,’ Miguel snapped. ‘And they’re heading towards me? Give me the new registration number.’

As the target vehicle passed in front of the hill where Juan was lying, he read the number into the radio microphone.

‘Leave the next bit to me,’ Miguel said. ‘But make your way up here as quickly as you can. You know what to do when you get to the scene.’

‘Understood.’

Juan slid the binoculars into the case, picked up the remains of his scratch meal and stuffed everything into a bulky rucksack. He slung the straps over his shoulders and started jogging quickly down the slope to where he’d parked his old Suzuki jeep, at the side of the rough track that ran almost parallel to the autovia. He would be on the road behind the two fugitives in less than two minutes.

As he ran down the hill, he smiled slightly. The bonus was his.