Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [40]
The woman smiled, her heart fluttering unaccountably, and put a hand to her hair. "Not at all."
"So kind."
Vaughan was still smiling at her through the glass when the phone rang and he picked it up instantly. "Hello, sweetie, what's the good word?"
"Carry on to Bampton and ensure that the merchandise is forwarded to our contact in Gloucester. Give him a ring and tell him what to expect."
"The full treatment?"
"Absolutely. And Simon, he doesn't want you to get involved personally unless it becomes absolutely necessary. If the occasion calls for it, then you have a free hand, but for the moment, simply keep an eye on things and report progress."
"Will do, sweetie."
He came out of the phone box and smiled cheerfully at the middle-aged woman. "Terribly sorry if I've held you up. You must allow me to put your coffee on my check."
She blushed like a young girl. "That isn't necessary--really it isn't."
"Oh, but I insist."
He left a generous tip and went out, whistling softly and the woman sighed and said to the girl behind the counter, "It isn't often you meet young men with manners like that these days."
The girl nodded. "Still, he's a real gentleman, isn't he? Anyone can see that."
Outside, Vaughan gunned the motor of the Spitfire and drove rapidly away.
The needle on the speedometer of the old cattle truck obstinately refused to move past thirty-five and it was coming up half past three when they approached Bampton.
Chavasse tapped Youngblood on the shoulder and pointed to where Molly stood beside the old Ford in a lay-by and Youngblood drew in beside her. It was raining hard, but there was colour in her cheeks and she seemed cheerful and excited when he dropped down to join her.
"How did it go, kid?"
"Fine," she said. "No trouble at all."
He turned to Chavasse who came round the front of the truck. "What was that address again?"
"Alma Cottage."
"Could be anywhere."
"True--Molly had better go in on her own. We don't want to make ourselves too conspicuous."
Youngblood nodded, took out Crowther's wallet and extracted five pounds. "You must be running low on petrol. Fill her right up while you're at it and get me some cigarettes and a newspaper if you can.
She drove away quickly into the heavy rain and the two men climbed back into the cab of the cattle truck.
"No road blocks so far, that's one good thing," Youngblood said.
Chavasse shrugged. "We're more than two hundred miles away from Fridaythorpe now. They aren't looking for us here--not yet anyway."
"Then there was no need to trail along in this old crate," Youngblood said. "We could have ditched the girl and used the Ford."
Chavasse managed to restrain his anger with difficulty. "Maybe you'd prefer to wander round Bampton showing your face all over the place while you try to find Alma Cottage?" he said. "Not me. If we aren't spread across page one by now then we ought to be." He shook his head. "She's earning her keep as far as I'm concerned."
"Maybe you're right at that," Youngblood said grudgingly.
"You can put money on it."
Chavasse sprawled back in the passenger seat, smoked one of his last cigarettes and went over things in his mind. So far, so good. Crowther's treachery to his employers--the fact that he had followed clients through to the Bampton address--had been a major stroke of luck. Without it, they wouldn't have stood a chance and the whole business, the long weary months in prison, would have been all for nothing.
But what happened now was even more important. He wondered just how much Rosa Hartman, the blind woman Crowther had mentioned, had to tell them. Possibly very little.
The Ford appeared round a bend in the road and drew in beside them. When Molly got out, she was carrying a carton of cigarettes and a newspaper.
"Alma Cottage is on this side of the village," she said. "I've just driven past it. There's a narrow lane on the right hand side of the road. It's about two hundred yards beyond the bend. The cottage is almost half-way along. It's very pretty."
Youngblood opened the newspaper