Authors: Luca Pesaro
Layla pointed at his clothes, and hers. ‘We’re still wet. I know a place to spend the night and get some rest.’
‘Where?’
‘Just by the Cathedral – we’re almost there. Come along, it’s beautiful.’
She shouldered her bag and rushed ahead, then waited for Walker to catch up. They turned a corner on the uneven stones and stepped into the main square. Walker caught his breath: Reims Cathedral was astonishing, a two-towered gothic masterpiece illuminated by flickering lights that shifted along the facade, reflecting into a thousand colours as they hit the enormous central window. The rest of the square was dark but the spotlights shone on and off the front and sides of the ancient building, where hundreds of statues seemed to twist and move, angels and demons floating on some invisible wind. DM would have loved it.
‘I think it’s one of the largest churches in the world,’ she whispered, awed.
‘It’s magnificent.’
Layla let him stare at the building for a few moments before turning and walking back a dozen steps or so. She stopped under a broken sign that read ‘Hotel du Champagne’ and opened a creaky door, telling him to wait.
The room was cheap and dirty, but from a corner of their first-floor balcony Walker could see the upper part of one of the cathedral’s towers, rising like a prayer into the night sky. He finished his cigarette and flicked it out before noticing a lone figure crossing the empty square, just a few yards away. The man wore a baseball cap and was shuffling along when he looked up, catching the trader’s eyes for a second before turning away.
Walker shivered, then he blamed the chilly air and told himself to relax. No point in jumping at
shadows. He opened the squeaky French window to reenter their bedroom just as Layla was wriggling out of her top. She stood next to the bed wearing only her underwear and he looked for a second at her body, impressed.
You might be dumb, Yours, but she really is something
.
Layla caught him staring and grinned, her hands going up behind her back. ‘No pay, no play, Mr Walker.’
‘It’s not something I haven’t seen before.’
‘True.’ Layla undid her bra and threw it on the bed, her full breasts hardly moving. ‘God, I need a shower. That saltwater has dried me out.’ She spun around and slipped out of her flimsy panties, stepping gracefully away to the bathroom.
Ignoring the stirring of an erection Walker inhaled, went to a side table and rummaged in his shoulder bag for a fresh shirt and some underwear. His BlackBerry tumbled out and fell to the floor, the back of it detaching. He swore, picked it up and reassembled the phone, leaving it on the double bed. The hems of his jeans were still damp but he decided to keep them on as the sound of the shower took his mind back to Layla’s naked body.
He grabbed another Marlboro and went back to the balcony to get a little more fresh air. His thoughts drifted, spiralling between Layla and what the next few days were going to bring. He wondered whether DM’s corpse had been found yet, and what he was going to tell the older Khaing when he met him. His only chance was to convince him that he’d had nothing to do with the murder. He needed help, not someone else contacting the police with his whereabouts. He sighed and took a long pull of his cigarette, glancing down to the corner of the church square. Something sneaked into the shade and he strained his eyes, trying to figure out what the shape was.
One of the cathedral spotlights swerved, pointing downwards and slashing the shadows for an instant and he swore. The light had revealed the same man who’d looked at him earlier, just without the cap. He was half-leaning behind some column, staring at their hotel. Walker dropped the Marlboro and slipped back inside, hurrying to the bathroom. Layla was wearing a bathrobe but hadn’t tied it; her hair was dripping and her skin flushed from the hot water. She looked like a wet angel when she smiled at him. ‘I’m starting to think you want to get me into bed.’
‘There’s a guy outside, looking at our room.’ Walker struggled to keep his voice even, but he was nervous. He returned to the bedroom and Layla followed him quickly. ‘What? Are you sure?’
‘I’ve seen him twice, now. And the second time he was trying to hide.’
‘But they can’t…’ Layla checked around the room and saw his phone lying on the bed. ‘Oh God,
what the hell is that?’
‘It’s my Dorfmann BlackBerry. But it’s super-secure, and switched off.’
She turned to him, fire in her eyes. ‘You
are
a fucking idiot.’ She shrugged out of her bathrobe and started getting dressed in a hurry.
‘We need to get out of here, now.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think…’
‘Shut up.’ Layla was already putting her boots on. ‘I’ll get down the back and bring the car around.’
‘What about me?’
‘Go and stand on the balcony, where they can see you. When you hear an engine coming, jump down and run to the corner as fast as you can. And try not to break a leg, or I’ll leave you here.’ She sighed and put on her overcoat, pointing to the window.
Walker grabbed his cigarettes and headed back out of the french doors. He lit up and inhaled, making sure he didn’t glance back into the room. His heart was racing, adrenaline shooting up his veins. He tried to slow his breathing as he had done when he was a kid, just before a fight, and wondered whether he’d been imagining things and Layla was overreacting. It was a Dorfmann phone, and turned off – how the hell could Frankel track it? Or was it someone else? Seconds ticked by, too slowly. Trying not to be obvious, he leaned further out and checked the square but the man he’d noticed was nowhere to be seen.
Where was Layla? She should have brought the car already. Maybe she had driven off, and left him to DM’s fate. Why the hell had he trusted her? She’d probably dropped him like a hot pan, and he shouldn’t have expected more. He swore, pulled again on his cigarette and fought to stay calm. Then he heard soft footsteps in the night’s silence and after a heartbeat a second figure appeared below, a large man striding to the corner near the hotel entrance.
Shit. Now you’re seriously fucked, Yours
.
Tyres squealed and a car braked furiously, coming to a stop less than a hundred yards to his right, on a smaller side road leading into the cathedral’s square. Walker recognised the battered Peugeot and stepped onto the stone handrail, grabbing it and letting himself drop a couple of yards to the pavement. He heard a shout and fell badly, twisting his ankle and rolling to the ground.
When he got up the large man was clearing the corner, rushing back towards him. Walker turned around – a second thug was running by Layla’s car, trying to cut him off while a third had
emerged from the shades under the church’s main door and was sprinting across the plaza.
Right. Let’s see what you got
. Walker spun back, his ankle sending a shard of pain up his leg. The big man approached him and he crouched in a boxer’s stance, left fist coming up near his face. The thug had a nasty scar running down the side of his mouth and was wearing a tight hat. He took another step forward, glancing beyond Walker.
‘Come on, give it up, mate. We don’t wanna make a scene,’ he said in a thick Australian drawl.
Walker let him get closer and feinted, dropping his shoulder and swaying to the right. His feet shot sideways, keeping his balance and increasing the momentum as he swung from just above the hip to hit the Aussie with a right cross to the chest, aiming for the diaphragm. His fist connected solidly and he followed through on the turn, pushing off his good leg to run back towards Layla’s car.
The second thug stopped a few yards away and brought up a small handgun, pointing it at him. ‘Enough.’
The third man was approaching from the middle of the square. Walker glanced over – it was their original watcher, once again wearing the baseball cap, but now carrying a long knife.
Walker swore and checked behind him, just as the large Australian was struggling to his feet.
Not there
. He looked back at the gunman and a shadow shifted near Layla’s car.
‘What do you want?’ he asked, his body quivering with adrenaline. Just a couple of seconds…
The man waved his pistol in the air. ‘Don’t worry and come with us. Everything will be…’
Layla’s foot lashed out of the darkness, kicking the gun out of the thug’s hand. He turned sharply and Walker was onto him, lower through his defenses, then swinging, his fist crunching bone before he twisted to one side, shuffling and regaining his balance to land two more uppercuts that sent the thug sprawling to the ground.
One down, two to go. And both armed, probably. Breathing hard, Walker checked to his right and saw that Layla was trying to intercept the third man. The big Australian had also recovered and was fumbling with his overcoat. Definitely armed.
‘Get into the car!’ Layla shouted just as Baseball Cap reached her, his knife flashing as a yellow spotlight from the cathedral fell on them.
Walker rushed to the Peugeot and jumped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. He saw Layla dodging the first knife thrust and drove the little car forward, heading for her. She ducked another cut and rolled to her left, bouncing up with a sidekick. Baseball Cap reeled
backwards.
Walker leaned over and opened the passenger door just as he reached them. Layla lunged away but the man managed to grab her coat while slashing with his other hand. She grunted in pain and dove into the car just as Walker accelerated onto the larger slabs of stone near the centre of the plaza. He swerved violently and floored the gas pedal. The Peugeot shot off with a screech and slid into a tailspin, glancing the Australian just as he was trying to aim his gun. The big man dropped to the ground and Walker regained control, heading for one of the little alleys that sprang from the cathedral’s square.
In a few seconds they were away, wheels skidding on the uneven pavement. Walker took a couple of side roads to make sure they lost the thugs before looking at Layla, who was trying to sit straight and tie her seat-belt.
‘Are you all right?’
She swore in Spanish, and fiddled some more until the clasp locked into position. ‘No. The son-of-a-bitch cut me.’ She opened her coat to check her right arm. ‘Turn left here, then left again. We need to get out of Reims. Just follow the yellow signs to the highway.’
Walker nodded, finally remembering to switch on the car’s headlights. He was driving too fast, the speedometer reading over ninety as they crossed to a more modern part of town, and he only wished he could go faster. He glanced at Layla, trying to see what was wrong with her.
‘Keep your eyes on the road. Don’t worry, I’ll live.’
‘You sure?’
‘He just opened up my upper arm.’ Her hand came back out of her coat, dribbling with blood. ‘It hurts like hell though.
Fuck
.’
Walker flew the car into a roundabout, then switched lanes and drove the Peugeot up a ramp that would take them onto the larger ring road. ‘Do you need me to stop?’
‘Not now.’ Layla gritted her teeth, swearing again. ‘Just pop into a service station when you see one, I need something to stop the bleeding.’ Her hand returned to her shoulder as she shifted her seat backwards, leaning against the headrest and closing her eyes for a few seconds. ‘Slow down a bit, the last thing we need is to get stopped for speeding.’
They drove on in silence for a few more minutes, until they reached the highway and Walker turned south. Layla opened her eyes and looked at him just as he was checking on her.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her voice rough with pain.
‘Switzerland. I told you I had a plan.’
‘I hope it’s a good one.’
‘Definitely the best I have.’ He reached into his jeans and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. ‘You want one?’
‘Oh God, yes.’
Walker lit a Marlboro and placed it between her lips. ‘There’s a service area in fifteen miles.’
‘Good, because I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. I always do, for some reason.’
‘You saved my life.’
‘Probably.’ She sucked on the cigarette and puffed out the smoke, savouring it. ‘So did you, actually. We’ll just call it even.’ She readjusted herself, grimacing. ‘And Scott…’
‘Yes?’
‘The next time you intend to do something so fucking dumb as carrying a
phone
, please ask me first.’
Chapter Nine
Lugano
Walker decided to cross the border in Geneva, since the city sat between France and Switzerland and the controls ought to be more relaxed there than anywhere else in the region.
Hopefully
. He drove slowly through town, careful not to break any traffic laws. His foot itched to slam the accelerator forward and get somewhere safer, away from the road. He felt too exposed, checking his mirrors often to see if someone was tailing them, but the town traffic made it impossible to know. Layla was asleep, head resting against the car window, one hand wrapped around her bandaged upper arm.
As he approached the border crossing Walker nudged her and she awoke with a start, eyes still unfocused. ‘What? Where are we?’
‘Geneva. I need your passport.’
She groaned and rummaged in her backpack, producing a small red booklet. ‘It’s Spanish, in the name of Paula Carbonero. What about you?’
‘I’ll use my Italian ID – it might help, I guess. But I’m hoping they’ll just wave us through, there’s lots of traffic…’ He trailed off, uncertain.
‘Good thinking.’ Layla tried to smile. ‘You might not be on Interpol yet.’
Walker grimaced. ‘I’ll tell you if we get through.’
The small truck in front of them shifted, and they could see a few cars being let through the barrier with barely a glance. Walker’s spirits lifted for a second as the white van rumbled through, also without being stopped, and shot forward. He slowed down to a crawl, staring straight ahead as they approached the Gendarmes on both sides of the road. The left one glanced into the car and his signalling disk dropped, stopping in mid-air.
‘Fuck,’ Walker whispered. From the corner of his eye he saw Layla tense, and wondered if they could just burst through. The other policeman was staring ahead and Walker prepared to floor the pedal, calculating whether there was enough room to swing past the van.