‘For Christ’s sake, just shut up and tell us where you are.’
Radio static was the only response.
‘You still there?’ Patterson said after a few moments.
More static.
‘Sleepy? Bashful?’
This time, he heard what sounded very much like stifled laughter amongst the static, and Statham coughed and spluttered in the seat beside him.
Patterson shot him a withering look and then spoke into the radio again. ‘Right. That’s it. I’ve had enough of all this Snow White nonsense. You’re back to Jarvis and Coleman from now on. Understood?’
‘Okay, Grump— um, guv.’
‘We’ll get your location from the GPS, so just stay where you are and we’ll come and pick you up.’
The radio interference intensified, but Patterson thought he heard the words “going anywhere”, “petrol” and “duh”. He replaced the microphone in its holder on the dashboard and sat back with a sigh, rubbing the palms of his hands down his face.
‘Then what?’ said Statham, dropping down a gear and accelerating hard out of a bend.
‘Put out a trace on the camper van first, I suppose, and then report in to see what the brass has to say.’
‘Rather you than me.’
Patterson slammed his hand down onto the dashboard. ‘What a God almighty balls-up.’
‘Watch it, guv. I nearly did an emergency stop then.’
He looked across at Statham and saw that he was smiling. He was about to let fly with a stream of abuse but checked himself. What was the point? It wasn’t his fault that the operation was on the brink of disaster. Mind you, if he ever laid eyes on those bloody Cupids again…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Trevor turned into the car park of the roadside diner and found a space at the rear of the building where the van wouldn’t be spotted from the road. He switched off the engine, and Milly stood up on the back seat and stretched herself, seemingly refreshed from her long sleep.
He waited for Sandra to finish her phone call. She’d rung someone about a lunch date the next day and told them she might not be able to make it. – A friend or maybe a relative, but not a boyfriend or husband by the sound of it. She’d started off with ‘Hi, it’s Sandra’, so at least he knew her name now even if pretty much everything else about her was a complete mystery.
She ended the call and put the mobile back in her bag. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything silly while we’re here,’ she said, picking up the gun from the dashboard and depositing it in the bag with her phone.
‘Like what exactly?’ Trevor was tired and aching from the long drive, and he made no attempt to conceal his irritability.
‘I think I’d better have those.’ She held out her hand as he took the keys from the ignition.
He dropped them into her outstretched palm and then made his way through the gap between the driver and passenger seats into the back of the van. He opened one of the small fitted cupboards above the sink and took out a box of dog biscuits. Milly leapt on the half dozen that he threw on the floor and devoured them as if she hadn’t had a scrap to eat in days.
‘Here,’ said Sandra. ‘You may as well stick this in there for now.’
She tossed the padded, green Jiffy bag at him, and he caught it one-handed. He placed it in the cupboard along with the box of dog biscuits and closed the door.
Five minutes later, Sandra and Trevor sat opposite each other at a red Formica-topped table, each of them studying a garishly designed, laminated menu, which gleamed under the brightness of the fluorescent lights. The restaurant was almost full, and the general hubbub of chatter mingled with the jangle and clatter of cutlery and crockery. Above all this, a baby was screaming as if determined not to be consoled.
‘I’ll have a cheeseburger and chips and a large coffee,’ said Sandra, scraping back her chair and getting to her feet. ‘I’m desperate for a pee.’
She picked up the van keys from the table and dangled them in front of Trevor’s face. ‘No tricks, eh?’
‘And what d’you reckon I’m going to do without those?’ he said, looking up from his menu.
‘Let’s just say I don’t entirely trust you,’ she said with a faint smile before turning and heading towards the toilets with apparent urgency.
Trevor watched her go, and as he did so, a girl of about sixteen in a red and black uniform arrived at his table, notepad and pen at the ready. Despite her rake-like physique, she was partially obscuring his view, and he had to lean to one side so he could continue to observe Sandra’s progress.
‘You ready to order?’ said the girl and flicked her head backwards to dislodge a lock of dyed black hair from in front of her eyes.