Lifting the Lid(43)

‘Hello?’ Her voice was husky, and uttering even this single word almost provoked another coughing fit.

‘Sandra Gray?’

‘Speaking.’

‘Where the hell have you been? Mr Vin— er, my boss is not at all happy about what he’s been hearing.’

‘Sorry. My mobile must have been out of range.’

‘Do you have the package?’

‘Of course. It’s right here in front of me.’

Sandra had always known her innate ability to lie convincingly would be of great benefit to her as a private investigator, and she answered the ensuing barrage of questions with confidence.

– Had she looked inside it?

– Certainly not.

– Why hadn’t she picked it up from the locker herself?

– She’d been running late and sent one of her employees.

– Why hadn’t he left the card with the address details in the locker?

– He’d forgotten, he’s an idiot, and she’d already sacked him.

– Why had she attacked one of “our people”?

– She hadn’t known he was one of “their people”, and she’d thought he was trying to steal the package. (At least that part was true.)

– Was she being followed?

– No.

– Was she sure about that?

– Positive.

– Was she now in a position to be able to deliver the package?

– She said she was and did her best to disguise the hesitation in her voice.

‘How long will it take you to get to Sheffield from where you are now?’

‘Sheffield?’ said Sandra, roughly calculating the distance in her head. ‘Dunno. Couple of hours maybe?’

‘Just get there as quick as you can, okay? Arundel Gate Hotel. Room two-seventeen.’

‘Any name I should—?’ Sandra began, but the phone had gone dead.



* * *



She had almost finished her can of Coke when she heard a key being inserted into the lock of the sliding door. She sat upright on the end of the bed and pulled her bag closer to her, feeling inside for the gun she’d taken from the Scottish guy at the festival. The door slid open a couple of feet and then stopped.

There was a moment’s pause before Trevor’s head appeared in the opening.

‘Welcome home,’ said Sandra and tightened her grip on the butt of the pistol but without removing it from the bag.

Trevor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Milly, who had apparently recognised Sandra’s voice and was inside the van and up on the bed next to her before he could utter so much as a syllable.

‘Well the dog seems pleased to see me even if you don’t,’ said Sandra, using her free hand to ward off Milly’s frenzied attempts to lick any undefended part of her face. ‘Why don’t you join us? After all, mi camper van es su camper van.’

He hesitated, so she ostentatiously moved the gun inside her bag, and he seemed to get the message.

‘Sit yourself down,’ she said and nodded towards a space on the floor that was furthest from her.

Trevor climbed into the van but instead of doing what he was told, went to the back of the passenger seat and bent forward from the waist.

Sandra thrust Milly away from her and whipped the gun from inside the bag, pointing it at the small of his back. ‘I said sit.’

Trevor may have been amused – and even impressed – if he had been able to see Milly instantly drop down on her rear end and gaze eagerly up at Sandra as if awaiting further instructions. If he had also known there was a gun pointing at him, he would no doubt have stopped what he was doing and straightened up with both hands in the air. Without the benefit of having eyes in the back of his head, however, he muttered something about sorting the chair out, pulled a small lever and swivelled the passenger seat through a hundred and eighty degrees so that it faced inwards towards Sandra. He sat down, and his hands reached upwards to shoulder level when he finally noticed the gun.

Sandra lowered it and smiled. ‘Wondered what you were up to for a moment there. Thought you might have some kind of hidden weapon.’ Then she laughed as another thought struck her. ‘Maybe even an ejector seat.’

Trevor grunted. ‘Yeah, that’s right. This van used to belong to James Bond, you know. Traded in his Aston Martin for it in fact. Oh the Aston had all the fancy gadgets like bulletproof shields and spikes coming out of the wheels and a thing for making smokescreens and spreading oil on the road, but there was nowhere to cook a decent meal or even do the washing up. As for somewhere to sleep, well…’ He spread his raised palms outwards.

‘You can put your hands down now if you want,’ said Sandra in a quiet, almost soothing tone. Flippancy wasn’t a reaction she would have anticipated from someone who had a gun pointing at them, and she interpreted it as a sign that Trevor had been pushed to the edge of rational thought. In that state, he was potentially dangerous and needed to be handled with care – for the time being at least.