Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(26)

‘Put three or four of your men on board the train, and make sure they check the lavatories. If one of them is occupied, that’s where he’ll be hiding. You’ll also need some officers on the far platform, just in case.’

‘They’re already there, sir.’

‘Good. The moment I spot Faulkner, move in and detain him, but leave me to arrest and caution him.’

‘Understood sir,’ said the Inspector, who barked out some orders while William took up a position by the exit, carefully checking every passenger as they left the station.

Ten minutes later, William and the Inspector were the only people left standing on the platform. William reluctantly allowed the guard to blow his whistle.

As the train departed, William switched on his radio. ‘Put out an all-points alert for a dark blue Mercedes, registration number MF1. The driver will be wearing a chauffeur’s hat.’

That was when William remembered where he’d seen him.

? ? ?

Miles smiled as he watched the train move out of the station.

When the barrier finally went up – the longest four minutes of his life – he checked his rear-view mirror and was relieved to see the taxi was still parked on the grass verge and there was no sign of its driver. He drove slowly across the tracks, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the train arrived at the next station, by which time he would need to have ditched the car and the chauffeur’s hat. He stuck to quiet country lanes until he spotted an old lady standing at a bus stop looking as if she knew when the next bus was due to arrive.

He parked the car in a layby and tossed the chauffeur’s hat over a hedge, before hurrying across to the bus stop, a briefcase his only luggage.

‘Run out of petrol, have we?’ asked the old lady as a bus came into sight. He didn’t bother to reply.

Once he’d climbed on board, he realized he had no idea where the bus was going. He only hoped it wasn’t back to Limpton.

‘Where to, luv?’ asked the ticket collector.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Sevenoaks,’ she said, a puzzled look on her face.

‘Then it’s Sevenoaks,’ he replied.

‘That’ll be sixty pence,’ she said as she printed out a ticket.

He handed her a five-pound note.

‘Do you have anything smaller, luv?’

‘No. You can keep the change.’

‘Thank you!’ said the ticket collector, as if she had won the pools.

Miles looked cautiously out of the window, in case he had to move quickly. A police car sped past on the other side of the road.

? ? ?

When Eddie got off the train at Tunbridge Wells, he spotted Chief Inspector Warwick deep in conversation with a uniformed officer, while his eyes double-checked every passenger. He walked straight past them and crossed the bridge to the other platform, where there were far more policemen than passengers. The next train to Charing Cross was due in twelve minutes. When it pulled out of the station, he was tempted to wave and smile at Chief Inspector Warwick, but only tempted.

? ? ?

Miles got off the bus at Sevenoaks. The final stop was opposite the train station, and there was a cab rank in front of it. Time was against him, so he would have to take a risk. He crossed the road and got into the back of the first taxi.

‘Where to, guv?’

‘Luton airport.’

The cabbie looked surprised and delighted.

‘I’m in a hurry,’ said Miles, ‘but don’t break the speed limit.’

? ? ?

‘Start by checking out the airports, train terminals and bus stations within thirty miles,’ said William. ‘We can’t afford to let him escape a second time.’

‘We just don’t have that many coppers available,’ said Ross. ‘It’s a Saturday afternoon and most of them are already out policing football matches.’

‘You can be sure he’ll have taken that into account,’ said William, ‘and built it into his escape plan.’

? ? ?

The taxi came to a halt outside Luton airport just as the crowds were streaming out of football grounds all over the country.

Miles handed the cabbie two twenty-pound notes and didn’t wait for the change. The first thing he did as he walked into the concourse was check the departure board. He was interested only in flights departing in the next hour. There were just three: one to Newcastle at 5.40, another to Moscow at 8.30 and the final one to Brussels at 6.10. He opened his briefcase, checked the three passports and selected the Canadian one: Jeff Steiner, Company Director. He walked across to the checkin desk, booked a ticket and paid in cash. Mr Steiner didn’t have a credit card, only cash and a passport.

He boarded the plane thirty minutes later. After taking his seat, he considered the worst possible scenarios as he waited for the stewardess to pull the exit door closed. At last, the engines began to turn and the aircraft taxied towards the runway. Another interminable wait before it finally took off. As the plane rose high into the sky, he looked out of the tiny window at a green and pleasant land, and wondered when he’d see England again.

He sat back and began to go over the next part of his plan.

Once the plane had touched down in Brussels, he ditched his Canadian passport in favour of a French one, in the name of Thierry Amodio, architect. During the two-hour stopover, he visited an airport barber, who was surprised by his request.