Final Justice (Lorne Simpkins thriller (Book Three)) (17 page)

As she approached the hotel, she indicated, yanked on the handbrake and darted into the passenger seat. Glancing up at Tony, she could tell by the thunderous look on his face he wasn’t happy with how long it had taken her to return.

‘What the …?’ Tony said, opening the passenger door, but one look at her terrified face told him not to argue. He ran past the front of the car and jumped into the driver’s seat. Angry blasts surrounded them he waved an apology at a few and gave the finger to some of the more aggressive drivers passing by. ‘You all right, Lorne? What the hell happened?’

‘Don’t ever do that to me again.’ Her voice trembled, matching her hands, which were stuffed into her lap.

‘Do what?’

‘Please, can we just get out of here, Tony?’

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shrug and heard him let out a frustrated sigh. As he pulled into the traffic and headed back to their hotel, with him at the wheel, Lorne’s panic soon subsided.

 ‘So?’ Tony said, throwing the car keys on the bedside table between the two beds.

Her eyes screwed up and met his, shrugging, she replied, ‘So?’

Sighing, Tony flopped onto his bed. ‘You first. What happened back there?’

She shook her head, not wanting to share with him why she had panicked. She felt foolish. ‘Nothing happened back there. I can’t stand traffic that’s all.’ She looked at the floor to avoid his eyes and tried to change the subject. ‘What did you find out at the hotel?’

 ‘Nothing. For a start they didn’t understand what I was getting at, or so they said, and for another I don’t think they would have told me anything anyway, the girl seemed like a bit of a job’s worth, and snooty with it.’

‘Did you see anyone hanging around?’

‘Nope …’ Just then, Tony’s phone rang. Placing a finger to his lips, he walked over to the dressing table where his notepad was. He flipped it open to a blank page and took notes, making the odd grunting noise as he listened to the caller. All of a sudden he turned to face her, and his eyes widened as he motioned for her to go over to him.

Alarmed, she shot off the bed and looked down at the pad, but his writing proved to be an unreadable scrawl.

She shrugged and mouthed, ‘I can’t read it.’

He tutted and wrote in capital letters, GET YOUR BAGS PACKED WE’RE ON THE MOVE.

Lorne ran into the bathroom and quickly threw all her toiletries in her bag and stepped back into the bedroom just as Tony hung up.

‘What’s going on?’

‘HQ told me it looks like they’re on the move up at the chateau. They’re loading up a number of cars.’

Within minutes they’d both packed their bags. Tony settled the guest-house bill, and they were on their way back to the chateau.

Chapter Thirty-Two

They raced back to the chateau and hid in their usual spot, but they needn’t have bothered. The chateau and its surroundings lay silent, free from movement of any description. During the half-hour ride, it looked like everyone had cleared out.

Tony contacted Headquarters when it was clear what had happened. ‘What’s going on? Any idea when they left?’ after a brief pause, a worried expression crossed his face and quickly disappeared. ‘We’ll make our way back to the car. Send the route to me via my phone, will you? Okay, be in touch soon.’

Lorne ran after him, and they were in the car before either of them spoke again, ‘Well?’

‘They’ve all shipped out by the looks of it.’

‘How do your guys know that? I thought they were tracking the truck.’

Tony laughed. ‘We’re not dealing with bobbies here, Lorne. Yes, HQ was keeping an eye on the truck, but we have more than one satellite, you know. MI6 don’t need to be told what to do every step of the way, they knew we wouldn’t be able to observe the chateau 24/7, so they’ve been observing it for us, well, after I made the call that is.’

Crossing her arms across her chest, Lorne stared at the road ahead, feeling as if he’d spoken to her like a child. ‘I was just fucking asking. No need to treat me like a bloody idiot,’ she snapped.

Picking up how annoyed she was, he patted her thigh. ‘Sorry, Lorne, forgot how sensitive you are at the moment.’

His patronising incensed her even more and had it not been for his phone indicating a message, she would have verbally lashed out.
Saved by the bell, Jerk!

‘According to HQ, the last vehicle left about twenty minutes ago.’

Forgetting about their little spat, Lorne sat up and turned to face him. ‘How many vehicles, and are they all travelling in the same direction?’

He smirked and nodded. ‘There are five vehicles, two lorries and three cars, at the moment they’re all going in the same direction. Will you get the map out of the glove compartment?’

Lorne pulled out the map they’d bought a few days before and opened it. Tony handed her his phone, which showed a map of where the vehicles were last located. She transferred the information to the map on her knees.

‘Come on then, Mrs ex-DI, where do you think they’re heading?’

It took her precisely two minutes to work it out. Tapping the map with her index finger she pointed to the N158. ‘Knowing Baldwin as we do, I’d hazard a guess he’s taking the road that leads down south.’ Following the road, she tapped her finger again at the town she thought would be their next probable stop. ‘My powers of deduction say Le Mans, it conjures up images of the rich and famous, it does to me anyway.’

She glanced sideways and saw Tony nodding, looking impressed. ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out.’ He pressed his foot to the floor and the car shot forward. ‘You keep hold of my phone, they’ll send another message if Baldwin and his motley crew change direction.’

Lorne hunted through her handbag, pulled out a black notebook and pen and made notes while Tony concentrated on tracking down the escaping pack.

Before long the light had faded and as darkness surrounded them they saw a signpost telling them Le Mans was 60kilometres ahead. With the smooth, constant rhythm of the car travelling on the virtually clear road, Lorne almost dropped off to sleep several times, and with her head dipping backwards and forwards her neck started to throb.

‘If we’re going to stop in Le Mans, it’ll take us approximately forty minutes to get there. Why don’t you take a quick nap?’

‘What if a message comes through?’ she asked, stifling a yawn.

‘I’ll deal with it.’

She placed the phone in his outstretched hand, folded up the map, and slid down in her seat.

Almost forty-five minutes later, Lorne woke with a start when she realised the car had come to a halt. ‘Are we here?’ She stretched and put her hand over her mouth as she yawned.

‘Yes, sleepyhead.’

‘Are they around?’

Tony nodded toward the Anjou Hotel opposite. ‘We can’t stay there though, and I can’t see another hotel or guest house around here.’

‘What do you suggest then that we sleep in the car?’

‘Would you have a problem with that?’

Thinking she could hardly say yes after just waking up from a quick doze, she shook her head.

Tony laughed. ‘As if I’d let you sleep in a car, I’m not that heartless, Lorne. I’ve contacted HQ and they’ve managed to book us into a small hotel around the corner, they’re going to keep an eye on the vehicles overnight and ring us if they move on.’

Within ten minutes, they had located the hotel and were settled in their room. Glancing at the only bed, albeit a double, Lorne couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable. If there had been a sofa where one of them could have spent the night she might have felt better, but there wasn’t. She didn’t have the courage to tell Tony how awkward she felt, so she trotted off to the bathroom to get changed.

‘Everything all right?’ He smiled as she shot under the covers, embarrassed to be seen in her pink pyjamas.

Lorne poked her head out from under the quilt, nodded and turned to face the other way. A couple of minutes later the bed dipped and Tony got in behind her. Clinging to the edge of the bed she feared what might happen if she relaxed. The bed shifted again when he reached over to switch off the bedside light.

Silence.

As she listened to the change in his breathing, Lorne gently turned to face him. From the light filtering through the thin curtains she studied the outline of his strong, handsome, yet scarred face and something stirred within her. Her eyes were drawn to his lips, and she imagined them roaming the length and breadth of her body … 

‘Are you watching me, Lorne?’

She gasped, and her cheeks flushed, she was thankful of the dim darkness surrounding them. ‘Um … No … it’s just that I prefer to sleep facing this way, I usually spend the night cuddling my collie, if you must know.’
Why in God’s name did you tell him that?

Lorne saw his teeth show in the dark and knew he’d found her explanation amusing. She wanted to bite her tongue off for the way it had run away from her.

He mumbled something under his breath and laughed softly.

‘Was that intended for me to hear or not?’ She puffed up her pillow and leant against the headboard, tucking her arms around her knees, another show of defiance she’d often used during her ill-fated marriage.
Men, you always have an answer for everything, always need to get that final word in, don’t you?

Tony turned on the lamp beside him and mimicked her position. ‘Oh, Lorne, your sense of humour really has gone AWOL, hasn’t it?’

He caught her by surprise, she wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say but it wasn’t that. She also hadn’t expected him to speak so quietly, it was the complete opposite of how she had anticipated the conversation progressing. Silent tears ran down her flushed cheeks, and staring at the wall in front of her, she shrugged.

‘
Look, I know the past year has been tough on you, but you need to dig deep for your resolve. Life goes on.
Your
life goes on, with or without those you’ve lost. It has to. Think of it like this, if you insist on letting it eat away at you you’re letting down those who lost their lives.’

She let his words sink in for a few moments. He was right, and suddenly she felt foolish, not for the first time on their trip. She turned to face him, their eyes locked. ‘Is that what happened to you, Tony?’ she whispered.

Something flashed in his eyes which made her think she had touched a nerve. For a minute, he sat silent, staring at the wall in front of him. She pushed down the panic rising within, the last thing she wanted to do was alienate him. A man she knew very little about, the only detail she knew about him was that he was regarded as one of the top agents in the UK, who in order to gain his current status had probably put his personal life on hold.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Her name was Miranda.’ His hands raked through his short hair, and Lorne placed a comforting hand on his forearm, to encourage him to go on. ‘We lived together for a while. At first, she found my work exciting, every time I came back from an assignment the first thing she wanted to know was the whys and wherefores of where I had been etc., as you know, we’re not allowed to divulge that sort of thing …’

‘So what did you do?’

He took another breath then continued, his face twisted with guilt. ‘I had to be resourceful, come up with imaginative stories to keep her happy. Sometimes, I’d catch a headline bulletin on the news and instantly make-up an intriguing story that sounded plausible, just to satisfy her interest. Most of them were so far from the truth it was laughable.’

‘But why? I mean most, no, all relationships should be built on trust …’

 ‘I know they should be, but …’

 Silence again and Lorne soon figured out what he was getting at. ‘Sex. You mean the more creative your stories were, the greater your sex life became.’

He shot her a look that proved her analogy was correct. ‘Don’t think bad of me, Lorne, it’s what men do, we want our ladies to think of us as real heroes.’

She shook her head.

‘What?’

‘When it comes down to it, you men really don’t understand us women at all.’

‘Okay, maybe not in your case, after all, the roles were reversed for you and Tom, weren’t they? You were perceived to be the heroine in your relationship. Didn’t your job get in the way come the end?’

He had a point. Her career had driven several nails into the marriage coffin during their turbulent fourteen-years together. ‘Okay, you got me there. Come the end, as you put it, Tom rebelled against the job, and eventually me, but we’re not talking about me. Was this Miranda high maintenance?’

He laughed then fell silent again. ‘Daddy was very rich, she wanted for nothing. When she moved into my one-bed apartment in London it was a bit of a letdown for her. The minute she stepped through the door and I saw the way her face dropped, I knew I had to pull out all the stops to make her happy.’

‘So you thought lying to her would keep her happy?’

‘It did to begin with. Even during sex she wanted to know about what torture techniques I used to obtain information.’

‘You’re kidding! Why didn’t you just dump her? I mean, if you knew the minute she stepped into your apartment that it would be hard to impress her …’

‘I was in love with her.’

‘Are you sure it was love and not lust? I know you men always think with that thing dangling between your legs, but really. What colour eyes did she have?’

‘What?’

‘You heard me, what colour eyes did she have?’

‘Brown, I think.’

‘There you go you’ve just proved my point. If you really loved her you would’ve shot the answer back at me without needing to stall for thinking time. And then to give an answer you’re unsure of …’

‘Smart arse, bitch. You think you have all the answers, don’t you?’

‘Most of the time, yes. Go on with your story, what happened to end the relationship.’

Tony chewed on a fingernail and then expelled another deep breath. ‘She came home one day, correct that, she staggered home drunk one day. I wasn’t too happy to see her in such a state. She’d been out with the girls and blabbed.’