"Remember, you are Romeo Three's protection."

At last he was able to come on the air. "Of course, of course."

I nodded at Hubba-Hubba. "We'd better get him in the trunk."

He went around to the driver's seat and there was a clunk clunk as the trunk opened. With me lifting his legs and Hubba-Hubba gripping him under his armpits, we lugged Gumaa over to the Audi and lifted him in. We were now vulnerable; him to getting the good news from a tail-end crash, and us to being compromised, so Lotfi would try to stay behind me, close enough to stop anyone getting between us in the traffic. As we laid Gumaa down, I took off his jacket and wrapped it around his head as a cushion, then pushed him onto his side so he could breathe better, adjusted the handkerchief, and stuck the wallet back into his pocket after wiping it free of prints. It was part of the package for the boys on the warship. as the trunk opened. With me lifting his legs and Hubba-Hubba gripping him under his armpits, we lugged Gumaa over to the Audi and lifted him in. We were now vulnerable; him to getting the good news from a tail-end crash, and us to being compromised, so Lotfi would try to stay behind me, close enough to stop anyone getting between us in the traffic. As we laid Gumaa down, I took off his jacket and wrapped it around his head as a cushion, then pushed him onto his side so he could breathe better, adjusted the handkerchief, and stuck the wallet back into his pocket after wiping it free of prints. It was part of the package for the boys on the warship.

Hubba-Hubba stood there waiting for the green light. "Not yet, mate. We need to make this look like a rental car." Fortunately there wasn't much to rearrange, just a plastic air-freshener on the back shelf, shaped like a crown, and some French and Arabic newspapers on the seat. They all went into the trunk before it got closed down.

I looked at Hubba-Hubba. "First thing, how do I get out of here?"

He pointed at a red and a green b.u.t.ton to the side of the shutter.

"Okay, mate, go and clear the drop-off. I'll come in via BSM, and radio-check you to make sure everything's clear up there."

He nodded and walked to the door as I half-sat in the Audi, turned the key, and watched him disappear into the street, closing the door carefully behind him.

"That's H foxtrot. L, acknowledge."

Click, click.

The engine turned over gently and exhaust fumes filled my nostrils as I moved over to the electric doors, waiting to be cleared by Hubba-Hubba.

There were still voices outside and I could just hear the chainsaw rev up once more in the distance. It was now magnified in my earpiece as Hubba-Hubba came on the net. "N, it is all clear, it's all clear."

Click, click.

I hit the shutter b.u.t.ton with my elbow and the electric motor whined. As the steel door squeaked its way up, I slipped my shades onto my nose and pulled my brim down low.

Backing out, I had to stop parallel with the truck to close the shutter, before heading for the square. Hubba-Hubba was on his way to the drop-off. "H is mobile. L, acknowledge."

"Roger that, N is mobile."

The Audi was an automatic, so it was quite easy to keep my right hand on the pressle.

"That's approaching the left-hand bend...at the bend toward the square...halfway...approaching." I hit the intersection. "Stop, stop, stop. Silver car."

"L has, L has."

The black Ford Focus was up the road to my left, just past the entrance to the parking lot and facing away from me. There was no need to continue on with the countdown: he had me. I turned left and Lotfi slotted in behind.

We wound our way back to the casino, down the hill toward the harbor. Traffic was heavy but steady as people began to head home from offices and banks, clouds of cigarette smoke and bad music billowing out of their open windows. Higher up, much bigger clouds, dark and brooding, gathered in the mountains.

We crawled around the harbor, with Lotfi protecting the rear of the Audi from impatient commuters.

Motorcycle police were directing traffic at a four-way intersection not far from the tunnels. A truck in front of me eventually got the wave and turned right. I followed as Lotfi hit the net. "No, no, no, no, no!"

As the message sank in I saw Lotfi in my side mirror, heading straight on, not right. There was a series of short, sharp whistle blasts from one of the policemen now behind me. He was wearing high-leg riding boots and a sidearm, and was waving me to a halt. Another policeman kicked up the stand on his bike, and my mind raced through the options. It didn't take long; I didn't really have any. I had to bluff it.

If I put my foot down I probably wouldn't even make it past the other side of the tunnel. I took a deep breath, accepting my big-time f.u.c.k-up, checked my Browning was covered, and pulled over as a few trucks moved out into the center of the road to pa.s.s the jerk who didn't know where he was going. The policeman approached and I pressed the down b.u.t.ton on the window, looking up at him, my face one big apology. He still had his helmet on, a BMW lid, the sort where you can pull up the face. He said something in French and pointed back to the junction. His tone was more exasperated than aggressive.

I stammered, "I'm sorry, officer, I..."

The bags under his eyes drooped as he looked down at me with an expression of unutterable weariness. "Where are you going?" Perfect English.

"To Nice. I'm sorry, I'm a bit lost and I missed your signal...."

His expression told me he'd been dealing with idiot Brits for years. With a resigned nod, he walked back toward the intersection and beckoned me to back up. A dozen horns were leaned on as he held up the traffic with a leather-gloved hand and pointed me in the direction Lotfi had gone. I gave him a wave of thanks and tried to avoid the angry glares of the other drivers.

As I pulled away I saw Lotfi on foot to my left, coming uphill toward the intersection. His arms were crossed and inside his jacket, which meant only one thing. He had drawn down in case he had to get me out of the s.h.i.t the hard way. He spotted me and turned on his heel as I got on the net. "L, where are you parked? Where are you parked?"

The roar of the traffic filled his mike. "On the right, not far. Down on the right."

"Okay, I'll wait for you, I'll wait for you."

Click, click.

I drove down the hill, looking for the Focus. It felt really strange knowing that someone had actually been coming to help. n.o.body had done that for me since I left the Regiment.

I saw his car in a small turnout in front of some stores. I pulled in about four cars back, and waited for him to get back behind the wheel. I watched him approach in my rearview mirror, and felt a surge of grat.i.tude that I realized was close to friendship. It had been my f.u.c.k-up; he didn't have to come back and help, but he had been prepared to put his own life at risk to do so.

He walked past me, not giving the Audi a second glance, and as he waited for a line of cars to pa.s.s before opening his door, I wrote myself a mental Post-it to find a way of thanking him.

36.

T he Audi and the Focus merged with the traffic as we flicked on our lights to drive through the tunnel. Two Legoland police and three more in riding boots, astride their machines, were on duty at the traffic circle on the other side, checking vehicle tax and insurance discs as the traffic filtered past them. The flow speeded up now, as most of the traffic turned up to the A8, wanting to get straight home rather than waste time winding along the coast. I was trying to think what to do now that there was an extra vehicle in the plan. he Audi and the Focus merged with the traffic as we flicked on our lights to drive through the tunnel. Two Legoland police and three more in riding boots, astride their machines, were on duty at the traffic circle on the other side, checking vehicle tax and insurance discs as the traffic filtered past them. The flow speeded up now, as most of the traffic turned up to the A8, wanting to get straight home rather than waste time winding along the coast. I was trying to think what to do now that there was an extra vehicle in the plan.

It was starting to get dark, so the headlights stayed on. Pinp.r.i.c.ks of light were scattered all over the populated slopes to our right, but as the mountains got higher, they thinned out.

It wasn't long before we arrived at BSM and pa.s.sed my Megane behind the OP and then the marina entrance. I knew I wouldn't be able to see the Ninth of May Ninth of May from the road, but couldn't resist a look anyway before checking the rearview mirror for the hundredth time to make sure Lotfi was still behind me. I got on the net. "H, radio check, radio check." from the road, but couldn't resist a look anyway before checking the rearview mirror for the hundredth time to make sure Lotfi was still behind me. I got on the net. "H, radio check, radio check."

I got two low and crackly clicks.

"You are weak. Have you checked the drop-off?"

The clicks were still crackly.

"Okay, change of plan, change of plan. I still want you to cover me, but in my car, cover me in my car. Roger so far."

Click, click.

"I need you to get rid of the Audi after the drop-off. Lotfi will back you, and take you back to your car afterward. H, acknowledge."

Click, click.

"L, acknowledge."

Click, click.

"Roger that. Just carry on now as planned. Do not acknowledge."

I continued on along the coast road, Lotfi still behind me; I could see his dimmed lights in my rearview, but I had no idea where Hubba-Hubba was. It didn't matter: we were communicating. We eventually reached the intersection that led to Cap Ferrat, and then, no more than two minutes farther on, rounded a sweeping right-hand bend and the bay of Villefranche stretched out below us. The warship was lit up like a Christmas tree about a mile offsh.o.r.e, and a dozen yachts twinkled away at their moorings. I didn't have long to take in the picture-postcard view before stopping at the intersection that took us to the DOP. I waited with my indicator flashing for Lotfi to overtake, then followed him up an incredibly steep series of hairpin bends. The road narrowed, with room for two cars just to inch past each other. Lotfi's taillights disappeared ahead of me every now and again as we wound our way up the hill, past the walls and railings of large houses perched on the mountainside, then steel guardrails to stop us driving over the edge.

Our destination was Lou Soleilat, an area of rough brush and woodland, situated around a big parking lot/picnic area lined with recycling bins, where the c.o.ke Light marker was going to be placed to show that there was a hawallada hawallada ready for collection. ready for collection.

The pickup team, probably emba.s.sy or naval personnel, would drive past the picnic area from the opposite direction, from Nice. If the c.o.ke can was in position, they'd throw it away with the rest of the c.r.a.p they'd be dumping for cover, and continue downhill about five hundred yards to the DOP, pick up the hawallada, hawallada, and continue to follow the road down to Villefranche and the warship. and continue to follow the road down to Villefranche and the warship.

The picnic area had been cut into the woods and laid with gravel. Wooden benches and tables were sunk in concrete for those Sunday afternoons with the family. I supposed the bottle bins were just there so the local fat cats could drive up in their overpowered 4x4s and dispose of a week's worth of empty champagne bottles, and feel they were doing something for the environment.

We continued on until we were about four hundred yards short of the drop-off point, then I turned off into a small parking area while Lotfi headed on beyond the DOP to the picnic area. There was room for about six vehicles; it was used by people during the day while they took their dogs for walks in the woods, and at night by teenagers and philandering businessmen for a different kind of exercise altogether. There were enough used condoms scattered around the place for an army of dogs to choke on. Whatever, it was too late for dogs and too early for any backseat stuff, so I was alone.

As Lotfi disappeared into the darkness I hit the lights on the Audi, letting the engine turn over. My head fell back onto the headrest for a few seconds. I was beat: my brain hurt just thinking about what I was going to do next.

Lotfi's job at the picnic area was to warn me if anything came from his direction as I dumped off Gumaa, and to leave the c.o.ke Light marker once the job had been done. Hubba-Hubba would be joining me here soon, and he would cover me from this direction.

It wasn't long before Lotfi came on the net. "That's L static in the parking area. There are two other vehicles, with a lot of movement in a Pa.s.sat. The occupants are being very energetic with their map-reading. The Renault next to it is empty."

I double-clicked. I'd obviously been wrong: it wasn't too early for that sort of stuff. Maybe they'd just wanted one more for the road before they went home to their respective partners.

While I waited, I got out the pen, hoping that whoever was picking up Gumaa would be driving past at intervals during the night, and not only just before first light. It wouldn't be good if he woke up in a tarpaulin thinking, What the f.u.c.k am I doing here with this pin in my mouth?

I couldn't hear any movement from him yet, but he was going to need another burst of Special K to keep him floating, or whatever he was doing in the back there.

Headlights approached from down the hill and turned into the parking area. As they b.u.mped over the gravel I recognized the Megane. Hubba-Hubba pulled up level with me and powered down the window. I did the same and leaned over my pa.s.senger seat to talk to him. He looked eager for instructions.

"Would L'Ariane be a good place to burn this thing?"

It needed to be somewhere that wouldn't arouse too much attention, not for three days anyway, and the housing project seemed a safe bet.

He thought for a moment, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "I think it would be, but I need to wait until much later. It's too busy there at the moment. Maybe past midnight sometime. Is that okay?"

I nodded. All I wanted was to make sure there were none of my prints or DNA, or anything else, to connect us to this job. I said, "Make sure you lose the plates as well, mate."

Hubba-Hubba smiled just enough for me to make out the whiteness of his teeth. "Of course. I'll give them to you as a souvenir." He jerked his head at the rear of the Audi. "How is he?"

"Haven't heard a word. He's going to get the good news with the pen right now, just in case he's got a long wait." I felt for the trunk-release catch and got out into the fresh and rather nippy air. The light came on as I opened the lid, and there was a heavy smell of exhaust as the engine turned over. I could just make out his face from the trunk light, and it was obvious the movement of the car, or maybe his own efforts, had done him no favors. The diaper pin had ripped some of his lip and tongue. He was still breathing; blood was bubbling from the corner of his mouth and onto the handkerchief that had slipped down his face, and one glazed and dilated eye was open.

I pulled his eyelid down and pushed the handkerchief up over his eyes once more before turning him over a bit. I pressed the pen against his a.s.s and pushed down the trigger. He was going to wake up thinking someone had implanted a golf ball in his cheek. Not that he'd be worrying about it that much when he saw he was in the steel hull of the warship with a roomful of very serious heads bearing down on him.

I shut the trunk, packed away the pen as I coughed out the exhaust fumes from my lungs, and walked over to Hubba-Hubba. "What did you say to him earlier on? You know, to get him into the garage."

He smiled even more, pleased that I had asked. "I told him I wanted to go back to where he'd just come from. He asked me why, and I told him I wanted the money. He said he didn't know what I was talking about. So I insisted."

"How?"

"It was easy. I introduced you as the man who cuts off the heads of the hawallada, hawallada, and promised that if he didn't hand over the money you'd do that to him. I told him that we all have very thin skin." and promised that if he didn't hand over the money you'd do that to him. I told him that we all have very thin skin."

No wonder he hadn't been too keen to shake hands.

Hubba-Hubba finished the story. "At first he kept saying he had no money. I knew that-he had just handed it to the Romeos. I just wanted to get him off the street so we could lift him. But then he started to say that I could have the money, that he had it in his car. It was pretty good, no?"

"For a beginner..." I grinned back at him. "Listen, thanks for getting us all out of the s.h.i.t this afternoon. It was really quick thinking."

He took his hands off the wheel momentarily in surrender. "It was nothing. He had to be stopped. Besides, it was you that was going to cut his head off, no?"

Now there was something he wanted to say. "About the money..." He touched the lump in his chest. "What are we going to do with it?"

"Split it three ways. Why not?"

He didn't like that. "We can't, it's not ours. We must put it with the body and it'll be taken to the ship. If we keep it, it's stealing. Lotfi would agree with me."

If we handed it back, it would be lost in the ether. I shook my head. "Tell you what, keep hold of it and we'll decide what to do on Sunday. You never know, there might be a lot more of this to worry about in the next two days."

Before he could say anything more, I explained how I was going to carry out the Gumaa drop-off.

Hubba-Hubba had something else on his mind. "We got away with it, didn't we?"

"One down, two to go. I'm going to check the recycling bins later in the morning to see if they've shed any light on the Greaseball and Curly connection. It'll be about five-ish and I'll need Lotfi to take the trigger, same place as this morning, when I'm ready. You never know, you might get your chance to sort out Greaseball after all."

That made him happy.

"Make sure Lotfi knows what's happening, and tell him we still need that G.o.d of his for another couple of days. After that we'll be in the clear, so he can have the rest of the week off."

"I'll ask him."

"Good. Come on, give me a hand."

We lifted Gumaa out of the Audi and replaced his wallet before transferring him into the trunk of the Megane. It took about two or three minutes for us to duct-tape his hands and feet, then join all four limbs together. I then taped his eyelids down correctly as Hubba-Hubba gave Lotfi a sit rep before going back to the Audi with a new phrase to add to his list. "One down, two to go," he said, and gave a quiet chuckle as I got into my Megane.

"That's N mobile to the DOP. L, acknowledge."

Click, click.

I took the money out of my sweatshirt and placed it under the driver's seat, hoping that maybe a little might find its way back to the U.S. with me.

37.