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I jog back to the woman on the till. ‘Do you have CCTV?’

‘What?’

‘Cameras! Do you have security cameras out there?’

‘Aye! That we do.’

‘I need to see footage from the past couple of minutes. It’s important.’

‘No can do, I’m afraid.’

‘I said it was important.’

She lowers her voice. ‘The cameras out there have been on the blink for the past six months, pet.’

‘By on the blink do you mean they’re—’

‘Totally knackered? Yes, indeed I do. What’s the problem?’

‘It doesn’t matter. Thanks anyway.’

A moment later, I’m standing in the rain wondering where Julia can have gone in the few minutes I was away from the forecourt. The garage is largely surrounded by open space and private residences.

There’s a road leading to the heart of the village and I drive down it slowly, scanning the pavements and parked cars. Still no sign of her.

My phone rings and I pick up.

‘Novak – it’s me. Julia.’

‘Where the hell are you?’

‘The bank. The manager let me use his phone.’

‘Are you safe?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I see it now. I’ll be there in thirty seconds.’

 

As we drive from the village, I ask why she left the vehicle. ‘There were two men acting suspiciously. It looked like they were watching me. So I ran.’

‘Why didn’t you just get me?’

She doesn’t answer and I doubt she saw anyone. It’s entirely plausible she was simply trying to escape from me, then realised I was her best bet if she ever wanted to see her partner and Willow again. Whatever the truth is, Julia’s mood has changed. She seems forlorn and angry at the situation. And, truth be told, I’m momentarily forlorn and angry, but with myself for placing too much trust in her. No, it’s more than that. I’m disappointed I couldn’t imbue her with more faith in me.

We follow the North Tyne for a couple of miles, then join the A68. The rain is falling heavily now, beating a loud tattoo on the van’s thin steel roof. What with that and the noise of the engine, I’m forced to raise my voice to be heard clearly.

‘Before we stopped for fuel, we were discussing missing artworks and treasures. You seemed to have a theory about them.’

She gives a non-committal grunt.

‘Is it anything to do with the Court?’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Julia tells me. ‘My only value to British Intelligence is what I know. So I think I’ll start rationing what I tell you. My knowledge is the only thing I have that’s worth anything, so why should I give it away free of charge?’

‘Because I’m trying to help you.’

‘You know what, Novak? I think you are. I think you’re a good man.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And so I’ll tell you one thing. For free. Don’t ask about the Court. No good can come of it. And now . . .’ She unfastens her seatbelt. ‘I’m going to try to get some sleep in the back of this thing. The sound of rain always makes me sleepy.’

Julia kisses me on the cheek (I try to disguise my astonishment at this) and she nimbly climbs into the rear section of the vehicle. I’m guessing that it’s a smaller version of what she tried to do back in the village. An escape from me. And after everything she’s been through in the past few hours, I can’t say I blame her.

 

We reach Oxford late in the afternoon. I park illegally on Catte Street and we walk to the offices where I’m due to hand over Julia. I meet Simmonds’ operatives in rooms overlooking the Bodleian Library. They’re excellent agents whom I’ve worked with before, but I’m still relieved to see the man I requested is part of the detail.

Sebby Hughes is a youthful looking forty-something. Sharp and thin, he’s been many things, including a bodyguard and an assassin, so, in terms of experience, he’s got both ends of the spectrum covered. Although he doesn’t currently work for Intelligence, I persuaded Simmonds to temporarily hook him on-board.

As is his way, Sebby salutes me. ‘Good to see you, Mr Novak, sir.’

‘Good to see you, too.’ I shepherd him to one side and whisper, ‘Like I said earlier, Miss Grant’s life is in danger. I need you to look after her. Like we discussed.’

‘Affirmative. And don’t worry about the lady. To kill her, they’ll need to kill me first. And that ain’t going to happen.’

I squeeze my friend’s shoulder. ‘Good man. You take care.’

He nods. ‘Understood, Mr Novak, sir.’

I complete the paperwork and there’s an awkward moment where Sebby and the operatives hang back a couple of paces so Julia and I can swap goodbyes.

She gives a half-smile. ‘I thought exchanges were done in sunny parks or motorway service stations in the rain.’

‘Or on curiously deserted runways.’ I return her smile. ‘We’re dealing with the British government. It’s all very white collar and red tape. Look, I know the people assigned to look after you. They’re good. Especially Sebby. Do as he says and you’ll be all right.’

She nods. ‘If anything does happen to me, will you find Willow? Tell her the truth about me. And tell her . . .’ Her eyes fill up and she purses her lips.

‘You’ll be safe, Julia. I promise you.’

She nods and we shake hands.

 

I arrive home late in the evening. Stacey, who’d taken a train down from Scotland, is waiting for me. She’s buzzing about our trip around the Continent, but her tactful qualities kick in when she spots I’ve had a tough day. She says, ‘Can I get you a small drink?’

I shake my head. ‘No, thanks. But you can get me a large one.’

She mixes us both G&Ts that are heavy on the G and light on the T. We clink glasses. ‘So, what happened, Novak?’

‘A question I often find myself asking.’ I take a sip of my drink. ‘That’s not bad. I might let you stay on.’

‘Look, if you don’t want to go into details, that’s fine. But sometimes it helps to—’

Our conversation is interrupted by my phone. ‘Do you mind if I take this?’ She nods and I answer the call. ‘Novak.’

‘It’s me.’ I can hear the tension in the voice of Jeremy Simmonds and immediately fear the worse.

‘What’s happened to Julia?’

‘The two men you injured at her flat were both shot before our people arrived. The shooters escaped. But both men were killed.’

‘My heart bleeds for them.’ I grip the phone tighter. ‘Simmonds. What’s happened to Julia?

A beat. ‘She’s missing. Went to the restroom in a service station on the M4. Your man Sebby Hughes went in after her when she didn’t show after three minutes. She’d vanished. There was a storage room by the cubicles which had a door leading to the outside. We think that’s how it happened.’

I rake my fingers through my hair. ‘Why would she do a runner? She knew she had to co-operate so she could see Willow again.’

‘Well, there was something else.’ Simmonds leaves an awful pause before continuing. ‘Hughes found blood in the storage area. And signs of a struggle. He thinks Julia was taken.’

I remember my promise to her. ‘Simmonds, you have to put every operative on this. You have to find her.’

‘I’m going to do everything I can to get her back, believe me. But I need you to be realistic, Novak. If Colonel Bulatov’s men took her – and that looks like the only explanation – it’s more than likely . . .’ Another pause. ‘Julia’s already dead.’