Whiteout - Ken Follett [73]
Elton’s own disguise was the most subtle. All he had was a set of false teeth that gave him an overbite—but he looked completely different. The handsome dude had gone, and in his place was a nerd.
Finally, he gave them all baseball caps with “Hibernian Telecom” printed on them. “Most of those security cameras are placed high,” he explained. “A cap with a long peak will make sure they don’t get a good shot of your face.”
They were ready. There was a moment of silence while they looked at one another. Then Nigel said, “Showtime.”
They left the control tower and went down the stairs to the hangar. Elton got into the driving seat of the van. Daisy jumped in next to him. Nigel took the third seat. There was no more room in the front: Kit would have to sit on the floor in the back with the tools.
As he stared at them, wondering what to do, Daisy edged close to Elton and put a hand on his knee. “Do you fancy blondes?” she said.
He stared ahead expressionlessly. “I’m married.”
She moved her hand up his thigh. “I bet you fancy a white girl, for a change, though, don’t you?”
“I’m married to a white girl.” He took hold of her wrist and moved her hand off his leg.
Kit decided this was the moment to deal with her. With his heart in his mouth, he said, “Daisy, get in the back of the van.”
“Fuck off,” she replied.
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Get in the back.”
“Try and make me.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Go ahead,” she said with a grin. “I’m looking forward to this.”
“The operation is off,” Kit said. He was breathing hard, out of fear, but he made his voice calm. “Sorry, Nigel. Good night, all.” He walked away from the van on shaky legs.
He got into his own car, started the engine, turned on the headlights, and waited.
He could see into the front of the van. They were arguing. Daisy was waving her arms. After a minute, Nigel got out of the van and held the door. Still Daisy argued. Nigel went around to the back and opened the rear doors, then returned to the front.
At last, Daisy got out. She stood staring malevolently at Kit. Nigel spoke to her again. Finally she got in the back of the van and slammed the doors.
Kit returned to the van and got into the front. Elton pulled away, drove out of the garage, and stopped. Nigel closed the big hangar door and got into the van. Elton muttered, “I hope they’re right about the weather forecast. Look at this fucking snow.” They headed out through the gate.
Kit’s mobile rang. He lifted the lid of his laptop. On the screen he read: “Toni calling Kremlin.”
11:30 P.M.
TONI’S mother had fallen asleep the moment they pulled out of the petrol station. Toni had stopped the car, reclined the seat, and made a pillow with a scarf. Mother slept like a baby. Toni found it odd, to be looking after her mother the way she would take care of a child. It made her feel old.
But nothing could depress her spirits after her conversation with Stanley. In his characteristic restrained style, he had declared his feelings. She hugged the knowledge to herself as she drove through the snow, mile after slow mile, to Inverburn.
Mother was fast asleep when they reached the outskirts of the town. There were still revelers about. The traffic kept the town roads clear of snow, and Toni was able to drive without feeling that at any moment the car might slide out of control. She took the opportunity to call the Kremlin, just to check in.
The call was answered by Steve Tremlett. “Oxenford Medical.”
“This is Toni. How are things?”
“Hi, Toni. We have a slight problem, but we’re dealing with it.”
Toni felt a chill. “What problem?”
“Most of the phones are out. Only this one works, at reception.”
“How did that happen?”
“No idea. The snow, probably.”
Toni shook her head, perplexed. “That phone system cost hundreds of thousands of pounds.