Eye Contact (16 page)

At the top of the incline, he checked his watch once more before turning right onto the Strand. It was busier here, with a steady stream of people weaving through each other as they hurried along. Seeing a break in the traffic, he stepped out from the broad pavement and made his way across the road to the quieter north side. A tailor’s shop window caught his attention for a moment before he turned left and made his way up towards Covent Garden.

Winchester University had a number of car parks spread over a large campus, so he had decided to play the odds and watch the main entrance on Sparkford Road. He had considered watching from his car, but in the end he’d been annoyed by his own timidity and elected to take a much bolder approach. It was a warm day, so he’d taken his laptop and sat on a bench near the main entrance. Nobody questioned someone typing on a laptop.

At first, he’d felt optimistic, but after an hour, the doubts had begun to creep in. How much did he really know about his target? Everything thus far had been guesswork – intelligent and considered, but guesswork nonetheless. The man might just as easily have come from the nearby hospital, or even the cemetery. Sitting here could be a complete waste of time.

And yet he had stayed there. Something stubborn inside had kept him in place, looking out over the screen of his laptop even as the traffic slowed and a silver car coming down the hill stopped to let a delivery truck pull out of the campus entrance.

It was him.

He was wearing a different jacket, but it was unmistakably him, impatiently waving at the truck driver to get out of his way.

Naysmith calmly typed out the car’s registration, then closed his laptop.

That had been yesterday. Now he stood on a narrow street just off Covent Garden and paused to check the address before pushing on a heavy glass door that swung open onto a bright, airy foyer. Walking across the polished marble floor to the broad reception desk, he put his bag down and smiled.

‘Robert Naysmith, here to see Christina Valdares.’

The receptionist, a thin, effeminate man with immaculately spiked hair, glanced up at him, then tapped a number into a console and spoke quietly into his headset.

Naysmith checked his watch. He was a few minutes early.

‘Please take a seat over there.’ The receptionist pointed with a slender hand. ‘Someone will be right down for you.’

‘Thanks.’

He wandered slowly over to a group of burgundy leather sofas and sat down. Artfully scattered on a low glass table were a couple of broadsheets and a selection of dreary trade magazines – nothing he cared to read. He sat back and gazed out at the street.

It was a Silver Honda Accord, registration number K347 GMX. Now that he knew what he was looking for, it wouldn’t be hard to find where his target parked. Smiling, Naysmith opened his diary and checked when he would be free to return to Winchester.

Naysmith put down the phone and stared out of the small window, taking in the bright expanse of sunlit grass and the village beyond. His biggest client was on holiday and, having chased up all the current leads in his diary, he was at a loose end. Closing his laptop, he turned slowly in his chair, got to his feet and took his empty mug down to the kitchen.

A restless energy coursed through him as he waited for the kettle to heat up, and the quiet stillness of the house became oppressive. He looked at the clock above the stove – 11.45. Not even lunchtime yet.

His eyes fell on Kim’s fur-trimmed gilet, hanging over the back of a chair. After staring at it for a moment, he turned, switched off the kettle and went to find his car keys.

Half an hour later, walking along a narrow street in Salisbury, he dialled Kim’s number.

‘It’s me. I’m in town . . . yeah, right now. Can you take an early lunch?’

He paused, then smiled and nodded.

‘Good. See you at the pub by the river in a few minutes.’

Ending the call he looked around. Light sparkled on the rippling water below him as a swan glided silently by. He walked slowly past the pub, along the riverbank in the direction of Kim’s office, stopping by a narrow side street. It was quiet, just as he’d hoped.

Perfect.

He waited there for her, anticipation building inside as he peered along the footpath. Far from dull, the day now seemed vibrant and exciting, charged with power.

Come on . . .

And there she was, walking along the riverbank towards him, long dark hair catching the sun, a smart blue jacket over a simple white blouse, a short skirt accentuating her legs. He smiled and waited for her to come to him.

‘Rob.’ She beamed as she reached him, but he put a finger to his lips and hushed her with a smile. Taking her hand, he led her wordlessly into the shadow of the side street. She looked puzzled, but he reassured her with his eyes as they moved a short distance from the river and stopped by an alcove between two buildings.

Now, he turned towards her, gathering her in his arms and kissing her as he pushed her gently back against the rough brick wall. He could feel her surprise, and she started to say something, but as their lips met she closed her eyes and put her arms around his neck. For a long moment, they stood there, until he moved, untangling himself from her enough to slide a hand inside her blouse as he bent forward to kiss her again. He loved the warm softness of her skin, the wonderful uncertainty in her movements, the way she felt so unprepared for him.

Her breathing had quickened but she slowly relaxed her arms and allowed her hands to drop to her sides.

Good. She knew what was going to happen.

People were walking by just a few yards away, but it didn’t seem to matter any more, and she yielded to him as he touched her. Head upturned, she kissed him deeply, then gasped as his hand slid down between her legs. Her eyes flickered open nervously but he stared down into her face as he moved, holding her gaze from looking round, smiling as he felt her body beginning to respond.

He knew her well, could sense how the surprise melted into an excited abandonment. As the urgency grew, she lowered her eyes and half turned her head, but he gently touched her chin and drew her back so that she was looking up at him again. He wanted eye contact.

His fingers moved quickly now, teasing her relentlessly until she couldn’t help herself any longer. This was what he wanted from her. Staring down, he watched her bite her lip, saw the slight widening of her eyes as her body tensed and felt her squirm against his hand for a moment.

Then, blushing deeply, she gasped and sagged. He released her and she leaned back against the wall, beads of perspiration visible below her neck.

‘Hello,’ he grinned.

‘Rob!’ she whispered, as she smoothed the front of her skirt down, then gave him a bashful half-smile. ‘I can’t believe you just did that . . .’

He kissed her lightly on her forehead.

Glancing left and right along the alley, she seemed to steel herself, then looked up at him.

‘Do you want me to . . .?’ She placed her small hand on his crotch.

It was intoxicating. She would probably kneel down in front of him right here if he told her to. He smiled and shook his head.

‘This isn’t the place, and I’d hate for us to be arrested.’

She adjusted her jacket and smiled back, her face flushed. He pushed a strand of hair away from her face, then reached down to fasten the open button on her blouse.

‘I’ve got a meeting this afternoon, but I shouldn’t be too late,’ he explained. ‘When I get home . . .’

She nodded shyly and leaned her head against his shoulder, so obedient, so vulnerable. Unfamiliar emotions glimmered briefly within him and he put his arm around her.

‘Come on,’ he said softly. ‘I promised you lunch.’

He took her hand and led her back out into the sunlight.

Naysmith indicated left and turned off the road, wheels crunching on the loose stones as he entered the car park. He drove forward slowly, casually, pretending to look for a space. This was the third car park he’d checked. He pulled the wheel round hard, turning into the next row, his eye scanning the noses of the parked cars.

There was another silver one, about two-thirds of the way along. He crept down the line until he could see it better . . .

K347 GMX. There it was, the target’s car, sitting partly hidden behind a blue people carrier.

Got you.

Craning to look over his shoulder, Naysmith reversed back up the row and turned his car round. There was only one exit from this car park, but, looking up and down the road, there seemed to be nowhere that he could sit and wait without attracting suspicion, or being given a parking ticket.

He checked his watch.

If their previous encounter was anything to go by, the target should be leaving just after five – less than an hour from now – and would probably go down Sparkford Road.

Better to go ahead and wait for him.

It was a bit of a gamble, but he could easily find that silver Honda again, now that he knew where it would be. Satisfied, he pulled out of the car park and drove down the hill. Peering out, he considered the turnings on the left and right, but they all seemed to be side roads, little residential cul-de-sacs. He allowed himself to go a bit further until, coming round a sharp bend, he found what he was looking for. Here, there were houses on either side of him and the street broadened out slightly, with just enough room to pull over and park. A little way ahead, the road passed beneath the railway embankment via a short tunnel. It was too narrow for vehicles to pass side by side, and a set of traffic lights controlled access – two cars were waiting at a red light as he looked – it was a natural bottleneck.

The perfect place to wait.

He angled the car in to the kerb and parked. Switching off the engine, he adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could watch the road behind him, then glanced at the dashboard clock. Just over half an hour to go.

Leaning back, he adjusted his seat to make himself more comfortable, and turned on the radio.

It was nearly half past five, a little later than he’d expected, when he spotted the silver car approaching. He already had the engine running as it passed, and pulled out behind it as it slowed for the traffic lights.

So close . . .

The light changed to green and they passed under the railway, emerging onto a wider street with larger houses on either side. Driving carefully, he followed the silver car down towards the main road.

It was important to keep the distance between them right – too close, and he could end up sitting behind him at the junction long enough to be noticed; too far and he might lose him altogether.

He took it slowly, allowing a slight gap to open up between them, coasting gently along for a hundred yards, then accelerating as he saw the Honda’s brake lights go off. They turned right onto the main road, but swung left down a small side street a moment later.

At least the man used his indicators. That would make the task somewhat easier.

They followed a small road that wound its way down beyond the last of the houses, past wide playing fields and out across a low water meadow. A bridge took them over the calm river that gently meandered between the trees. Naysmith hung back as far as he could, but the road was quiet and the silver Honda was travelling slowly.

They were well outside the city now, and the target was moving faster. At a roundabout, Naysmith decided to let another car slip in between them – there was no point following someone if you weren’t going to try to be subtle about it – but after a mile or so the silver Honda turned off onto a smaller road signposted ‘Petersfield’ and it was just the two of them again.

From a gentle dip, they climbed a broad hill crowned with trees and drove out onto the rolling South Downs. The landscape fell away on either side beneath a vast sky, and the sun gave a golden glow to the clouds on the horizon. It was like journeying into a painting . . .

They had been driving for nearly half an hour when a red car appeared in the rear-view mirror. Naysmith glanced back at it, watching as it steadily closed the distance between them.

Good.

He allowed it to overtake, gently increasing his speed to tuck in close behind it and urge it along. It would be no bad thing to have a car between him and the target again.

The silver Honda was clearly visible up ahead and, slowly, the gap between the three cars closed. Thankfully there were few opportunities to overtake after that – tall hedgerows created blind curves, and oncoming traffic made it impossible when the road did straighten out.

They continued on together, dropping slowly down between the hills until they came to a remote rural crossroads where a red light halted them. There was a large country pub on the far side of the junction, and a small petrol station opposite.

The Honda indicated right but, as the lights changed to green, the other car drove straight on, leaving Naysmith directly behind the target once more.

Where were they going? It had been well over half an hour now – how much longer could he sit behind this car without it becoming suspicious?

Cresting a long hill, the road plunged down through some trees towards another village. The Honda’s brake lights came on as they approached the bottom of the hill, but then the left indicator light started flashing as well.

Finally, he was turning off.

As the gap between the two vehicles closed, Naysmith reluctantly decided to drive on. It would be too obvious to continue the pursuit. His eyes followed the silver car as it turned down a narrow lane before being lost from view as he continued on through the village.

West Meon was a quaint little place, with well-kept houses and old flint walls that pressed close to the road winding sharply left and right between them. He took the next turning onto a small side road and pulled over to think.

He must be close now.

The lane that the silver car had disappeared down didn’t look as though it led anywhere. In all probability, this was where the target lived. It couldn’t hurt to take a quick look along that lane and see what was down there . . .