CHAPTER
THIRTY

Noah stared hard at the back of Eva’s head as they drove along, hoping (for her sake), that his concerns were getting through to her through some sort of telepathy. It was fine, he wasn’t going to judge her, she could give her number and whatever promises she liked to RANDOM MECHANICS who she’s only known for, like, ten minutes … except it was potentially dangerous!

Noah cleared his throat. “Eva? I hope, if you do decide to meet up with Ryan again, that you’ll at least inform your parents, or some other responsible adult, of your plans?”

Eva turned round quickly. “We got the battery, didn’t we?”

“Yes…”

“So the problem is what, Noah?”

He couldn’t see her face, but Noah could hear the little smile playing on her lips. Fine, then.

“Haha!” Mick chuckled. “I think Noah’s worried you might like Ryan more than him, Eva!”

“No, that’s not true because I don’t even care,” Noah said.

Eva shrugged. “I have no allegiance to anyone. I’m a lone wolf.”

Noah rolled his eyes. God, it must be great being Eva.

“Welcome to Route 66,” the waitress with a gaunt face and chemically damaged blonde hair sighed as she showed them to their table. “Where all your American dreams come true!”

Noah glanced across at the OAPs sitting opposite one another, eating their hamburgers in silence, and then over at the baby in a high chair, which was throwing fries on the floor whilst its mother sat on her phone, texting and slurping on the dregs of a cola.

“Go fuck yourself, Mario!” someone shouted from the kitchen.

Noah peeled a limp piece of lettuce covered in ketchup from his chair and sat down. Harry cocked his head at the menu. “Well, we’re in the right place.”

“You certainly are,” the waitress said, maintaining her fixed smile. “Let’s start –” she sounded really bored “– with some drinks. Good news, gang –” it didn’t sound particularly like good news “– we do unlimited refills on all our sodas.”

“I think we should eat here,” Mick said. “Then we can find somewhere to kip for the night.”

Noah nodded and glanced at the waitress, who was busy digging a tissue out of the pocket of her stars and stripes tabard. Noah knew he needed to be as charming as possible in order to get this poor woman, for whom the American dream had surely faded, on side. And when it was something he really wanted, Noah was more than prepared to be a total hypocrite. “Howdy, y’all!” Noah smiled at the waitress and slapped his thigh. “I LOVE America!”

The waitress gave him an empty stare. “Drinks?” she muttered.

“I’ll have the Mega Choc Super Shake,” Harry grinned, eyes all over the manky menu.

“Do you want to go large on that?” the waitress said in a dull monotone. “With extra marshmallows, cream, Oreos, Reese’s Pieces, and a whole Snickers?”

Harry’s eyes were popping out with all the images. “YES! YES!”

“Make that two!” Noah said. “God bless America!”

The waitress slowly made a jotting on her pad. “Our special today is the Empire State Sharing Plate – ribs, chicken wings, pork belly, loaded skins and shrimp.”

“Mmmmm!” Noah said, ladling on the enthusiasm, even though he was dying to tell everyone it should be prawns, not shrimp, because they were not in America.

The waitress stared into the dark void outside the window. “All smothered in our famous Tennessee bourbon glaze.”

Noah stifled a smile. Even the inauthenticity was inauthentic. He could only imagine the legal wranglings that had somehow prevented them from calling it a Jack Daniels glaze, although it was presumably because there wasn’t a drop of JD in sight.

“Right,” Mick said, apparently losing patience, “we’ll have the Empire State Sharing plate, three unlimited sodas and two milkshakes, ultimate ribs, spit-roast half chicken – I love a spit roast, me …”

Noah rolled his eyes.

“… sesame chicken strips and the tornado steak.” Mick smiled and put the menu down. “Everyone happy?”

“USA! USA! USA!” Noah chanted, nodding excitedly at the waitress, who just stared back at him like he was crazy.

“Excuse me, miss,” Noah continued, now adopting his politest tone and most winsome smile. “I don’t suppose you noticed a couple of … friends of mine in here earlier?” He got his phone out and flashed a picture of his dad and Eric at her. “Maybe a couple of hours ago?”

The waitress looked unenthusiastically at the photo. “Yeah. They tried to make off without paying.”

“Yes, that sounds like them,” Noah said.

“Then the lad tried to say there was a hair in his sweet and sour ribs, and the older guy claimed his fillet steak was undercooked.”

“Fillet steak, my, my!” Noah said. “Someone was pushing the boat out! I don’t suppose they … gave any hint of where they were heading?”

The waitress shrugged.

“Any mention of where they were travelling to, after they left?” Noah continued, raising his eyebrows.

The waitress stared vacantly at him for a few moments. “They were talking about a place to stay the night…”

“That’s good,” Noah said.

“They asked me if there was anywhere near here, and I told them no. Not unless they want to stay at the Deathtrap Motel.”

“Wow, they really called it that?” Noah said.

“No,” the waitress said. “That’s what everyone round here calls it, after a guest caught an STI from the bedsheets. Anyway, they said they would head a bit further south.” The waitress shrugged. “I didn’t catch anything else. I’ll put your order through.”

“Surely they’re heading to London,” Mick said as she walked away.

Noah nodded. “Maybe.”

“If you were trying to sell some diamonds, though, surely Hatton Garden is the obvious place?” Mick insisted.

“No,” Noah said. “That place is too above board. Dad’ll need to sell to a dodgy contact, someone who can get the diamonds out of the country, and who can then maybe take them to someone in Antwerp for recutting.”

Harry made a little groaning sound. “Mm, I love it when you talk like this,” he murmured.

“Sexy, right?” Pierre agreed. “Antwerp. Recutting. He knows all the words!”

Noah gave Pierre a warning stare. “I’m merely stating facts.” He turned to Harry. “And like I said before, there’s nothing sexy about being a criminal. It’s a bad thing. Right!” Noah slammed both his hands down on the table. “We need more info. I’m gonna call Eric!” He got up from his seat. “I’ll call from outside – don’t want him to know exactly where we are. Information is power, after all.”

Eric finally picked up on Noah’s third attempt and Noah went right in hard, to show he wasn’t messing about. “Where are you, cock cheese?”

“Some place you’ll never find us,” Eric said. “And I wonder where you are, Jessica?”

“Don’t bring Dame Angela into this!” Noah glanced around his surroundings – by the huge wheelie bins to the side of Route 66, the sound of traffic in the distance, but no way would Eric be able to hear that. “And I’m nowhere. Just at home.”

The sounds of the waitress on a PA system suddenly came blaring across from the restaurant. “WE’RE CELEBRATING A BIRTHDAY. WOOO. SO GIVE A ROUTE 66 CHEER FOR MAVIS – WHO IS SEVENTY-FIVE TODAY.”

Noah cleared his throat. “Just hanging around at home.”

Eric laughed. “Yeah, I heard that loud and clear, Noah.”

“Why are you doing this?” Noah hissed. “Gran needs that money! We could put her in Kingfisher Meadows with it! Have you literally no heart, Eric? Are you, in fact, the very devil himself?”

“Probs,” Eric sniffed. “Look, I’m just the monkey in all this. Dad’s the organ grinder.”

“But you were all too happy to help! Judas!”

“This will all be over by eleven tomorrow morning, so if I were you, I’d let it go.”

“Never!”

“Tick-tock, then, Noah. Better come and find us quick, before it’s too late. I’d suggest you leave Route 66 sharpish and head, ooh, I dunno, south?”

“Right, well, I’m not at Route 66, but that’s interesting.”

“You’re at Route 66. I literally just heard.”

“No, I’m not,” Noah insisted.

“Whatever,” Eric said. “Check your food before you eat – I found a pube in mine.” And he hung up.

Noah chewed his lip. Damn him. “Head south,” he’d said – but what if that was a bluff? What if Eric and Dad were really heading north? Or maybe it was a double bluff, and they really were heading south, or maybe…

“The food is here, so I come get you,” Pierre said, appearing at Noah’s side. “Although I must say, it is not as good as our picnic the other night! Not like my fine Merlot, huh?”

Noah took a deep breath. Pierre’s little remarks needed knocking on the head. Noah had played the whole thing down to Harry, but Pierre risked making Harry think it was a whole bigger deal than it really was. “You told me Harry knew about the picnic, but he didn’t know,” Noah said.

Pierre shrugged. “He know I came to see you to apologize.”

“Yes, but not about the picnic.”

“The picnic was a, how you say, a thought after. A special thing I just decide on.”

“Yet you told me Harry knew.”

“A mistake! Come inside, the food!”

Noah looked Pierre up and down. God, he was handsome. It wasn’t just the obvious physical perfection – the chiselled jaw, the defined cheekbones, the carefree hair – Pierre oozed confidence, charm and … sex. It was disarming. It made it very difficult to be cross with him. “All I’m saying, Pierre, all I’m merely asking, is that you back off with the little sexual remarks about me a bit. OK? Just less of ‘Noah is sexy’ this and ‘You make me hard, Noah’ that. OK?”

“I see you are still upset by our kisses of passion. Maybe we should just tell Harry everything, so it is all out in the open?” Pierre suggested.

Noah grabbed Pierre’s arm. “Let’s just leave it, yes?”

“Ha!” Pierre laughed. “I joke with you!”

“Oh fuck,” Noah said, staring over Pierre’s shoulder.

Pierre shrugged again and walked back towards the restaurant. “Chill out, is not a serious thing.”

But that wasn’t the thing.

Noah was frozen, staring over towards the far corner of the car park.

A car.

With a registration plate he recognized.

The black Vauxhall Astra.