The Lost Testament

96

Miguel had chosen his position with some care. He knew that there were no major junctions on the autovia to the north of Villanua until the road reached Canfranc-Estaciòn. There it split, the E-7 autovia running through the Túnel de Somport while the mountain road continued north, winding back and forth along the sides of the valleys until it finally rejoined the E-7 at Les Forges d’Abel, a few miles north of the French border. He had no doubt that if the two fugitives decided to try to leave Spain that way, they would take the tunnel. And that meant he had to stop them before they reached the entrance and vanished from sight into the solid stone safety of the mountain.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He’d had to choose a vantage point that was inevitably a compromise. He’d needed to be sufficiently far away from the road so that he would have a clear view of his approaching target and have time to take his shot, but close enough so that he would be reasonably certain of hitting it.

He had also wanted a long enough stretch in front of him so that if somehow he missed with the first round, he would have sufficient time to work the bolt on his favourite long-distance weapon, a Remington 700 BDL chambered for the powerful .270 Winchester round, and take his shot before the car moved out of sight. He needed at least two or three hundred yards distance.

Hitting a stationary target at that range, with that weapon, would not be difficult. But hitting a moving target, especially a car that could well be travelling at over one hundred kilometres an hour, was more complicated. He would have to factor in the bullet’s flight time, and aim his rifle not at where the target was, but at where it was going to be when the bullet arrived.

As soon as he ended his brief radio conversation with Juan, Miguel put the radio to one side. Then he lay down flat on the ground, getting as comfortable as possible, picked up the Remington, wound the leather strap around his left arm, formed a tripod with his two elbows, and stared down the valley through the powerful Schmidt & Bender 5-25 x 36 telescopic sight. At the same time he worked the bolt of the Remington to chamber the first round from the magazine, then checked that the safety catch was off.

Away to his right, three articulated lorries were moving slowly up the hill in the right-hand carriageway of the three-lane road, directly towards him, the elevated exhaust pipes belching black smoke into the clear mountain air. Behind them, a few cars were travelling much more quickly, making easier work of the incline.

Miguel focused on each one in turn. A white van was in the right-hand lane, travelling quite quickly, but with a line of three cars approaching in the centre lane to overtake it. Behind the van was another light-coloured car, the driver presumably waiting his turn before pulling out to go past the van.

Miguel quickly checked the overtaking vehicles, but none of them fitted the description of the car he was looking for, so he moved the barrel of the rifle microscopically until he could see the car boxed in behind the van.

He gave a sharp intake of breath as he recognized the Renault badge and glimpsed the first part of the registration number on the plate below it. The make, model and colour were correct, and when he moved his head slightly so that he could see the note he’d made during Juan’s call, he confirmed the number as well.

He looked again through the telescopic sight, lifting his field of view slightly to look at the occupants as a final check: a dark-haired man behind the wheel, a blonde woman sitting beside him. He couldn’t make out their features, but he had no doubt that Juan had identified them correctly.

Now all he had to do was pick his moment.

His orders had been unambiguous. The two Britons were not to make it out of Spain. Ideally he was supposed to just stop the car so that they could be taken alive to allow Tobí to enjoy himself with them. If that wasn’t possible — and as far as he could see it wasn’t an option because of the speed of the vehicle — then their deaths were to appear to be an accident. In either case, their luggage was to be removed and handed over to Tobí as soon as possible.

Making it look like an accident meant he couldn’t simply drive a bullet through the man’s chest. But at the speed that the car was travelling, blowing out one of the front tyres would probably do the trick. The driver would lose control and the car would hit the barrier on the right-hand side and with any luck somersault over it and hit the rough ground on the east side of the autovia. If he was really lucky, it might even end up in the river at the bottom of the valley.

All Miguel needed was a single clear shot at the front of the Renault, and it looked as if his opportunity was coming. The last of the three overtaking cars was now almost parallel with the target, and as soon as that vehicle moved clear, Miguel would take his shot.

He concentrated on the view through the telescopic sight, tracking the target as he estimated the approximate range to that point on the road, and calculated how much lead distance he would need to allow. In his peripheral vision, he saw another car beginning to approach from the south, but disregarded it. It was too far away to interfere with his shot.

The overtaking car moved clear, and for the first time since it had come into view, he could see all of the Renault clearly. As he had expected, as soon as the driver had the opportunity, he indicated left and began accelerating to pull out and overtake the van.

Miguel focused, allowed just a fraction more of an angle off to allow for the bullet’s flight time, and then squeezed the trigger.