Conspiracy
Page 27
It had been a massive risk. There was every chance the skipper would alert the police, especially if he thought he’d been conned and saw the appeals for information about Blake on the news. Blake could only trust the skipper was a man of his word and that he’d believed Blake’s faithful promises that he’d eventually get his money.
Blake reached the town as the sun was rising and his oversized boots had rubbed his feet raw. He slept the rest of the morning under the upturned hull of a dinghy on a sliver of shingle beach near the maritime quarter, fearing being spotted by someone who might recognise him from the appeals on the news. He’d been shocked to see his face on the front cover of a French newspaper outside a shop on the outskirts of town, an indistinct grab from a CCTV camera, but which confirmed the world’s media were all over the story.
Late in the afternoon, he’d risked venturing into the town to acquire a burner phone to call Parkes, hoping for news that they’d recovered Kyle Hopkins’ body and that by some miracle Blake wasn’t in the frame. Despite his disappointment, nothing she’d told him had come as a surprise. It was inevitable Bowater would go on the offensive, and the narrative that Blake was a disgruntled MI5 employee was a plausible enough story for a gullible public to accept without question. All the facts fitted, and with Fletcher dead, who was going to contradict Bowater’s version of events, that his daughter had been abducted and he’d been held at gunpoint?
With his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, Blake trudged away from the quayside bars and restaurants where he’d enjoyed his last decent meal, and headed past the ugly warehouses and shipyards, leaving the bright lights of the city behind. He followed the road towards towering cranes criss-crossing the sky, stark against the grey horizon. He ignored the girls in their short skirts and torn stockings beckoning him with catcalls and lipstick-smudged pouts and kept moving until he came to the port’s main entrance where a constant flow of diesel-chugging lorries swept in and out.
Blake took up a position on a grass verge and stuck out his thumb. The seventh truck to pass pulled up with a hiss of air brakes. Blake climbed into the cab. ‘Speak English?’ he asked the driver, a man with puppy-dog eyes, a mop of curly hair and a Mario Brothers drooping moustache.
‘A little.’
‘Can I get a ride?’
The driver gave a Gaelic shrug. ‘I’m heading east,’ he said.
‘Paris?’
‘Troyes.’
‘Good enough,’ said Blake, although he’d never heard of the place. He yanked on a seatbelt as the lorry pulled away, grunting through its gears as it gathered speed.
‘Where are you going?’ the driver asked as they headed beyond the outskirts of the city and onto a fast-flowing motorway.
‘South.’
The driver glanced at him, as if expecting Blake to elaborate.
‘I’m trying to find an old friend,’ said Blake.
‘Okay.’
‘I’ve not seen him for a long time,’ he added, which was true.
‘Then he’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘Yeah, I hope so. In fact, I’m counting on it. I’ve got nowhere else to go.’
The lorry driver nodded and a smile crept across his face as if something about Blake’s answer had amused him. Blake folded his arms and as the gentle rocking lulled him to sleep, the image of Bowater’s smirking face loomed large in his mind.
He thought about Ryan Fletcher and Kyle Hopkins, and about his wife and children who might never find out the truth about his death. He thought about Harry Patterson, and his wife, Helen, and he thought about the house in Iraq and the family who’d been murdered. He remembered the awful gargling sound Jake Stone had made when he cut his throat in Blake’s hotel room, and a wave of nausea rose from his stomach. So many lives ruined.
But Blake wasn’t finished. He was down, but he wasn’t out. He vowed to himself that he would regroup and reassess, just like he’d always done when his back was against the wall.
Only this time, he’d have to do it on his own.
Author’s note
I hope you enjoyed reading Conspiracy as much as I enjoyed pitting Blake against his toughest ever challenge.
Don’t worry. Blake will be back. The story isn’t over.
In the meantime, you might like to read a free Blake novella. As Good As Dead is set before Blake left the SAS and has him tackling terrorists who’ve taken control of a popular tourist hotel in Turkey. Details of how to claim you copy below.
Best wishes
Adrian
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Other books by Adrian Wills
Deep Sleepers
The Armageddon Virus
The Viper’s Strike
Between The Lies