A Matter of Honor - Page 58

“Looks about the right distance.”

“But once you’re off the bus, what will you do for transport?”

“I’ve little choice but to walk or thumb lifts—unless I pinch another car.”

“With your luck, Rosenbaum will be the one person who stops to pick you up.”

“Yes, I’ve thought about that as well,” said Adam. “I would have to find a long stretch of road where I can see without being seen for about one hundred yards, and then thumb lifts only from British cars or cars with British license plates.”

“They taught you a trick or two in the army, didn’t they?” said Robin. “But how do you intend to cross the frontier with your passport?”

“That’s one of the many problems I haven’t yet come up with a solution for.”

“If you decide to stay with us,” said Robin, “it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Why?” asked Adam.

“Because whenever we cross a border they only count the number of people on the bus and the number of passports, and as long as they tally, the customs officials don’t bother to check everyone individually. After all, why should they? The RPO is not exactly an unknown quantity. All I would have to do is add your passport to the bundle and mention it to the manager.”

“It’s a clever idea, but it’s not on. If Rosenbaum caught up with me while I’m still on this bus, then I would be left with no escape route.”

Robin was silent for a moment. “Once you’re on your own, will you contact Lawrence again?”

“Yes I’ve got to let him know what happened this morning, because whoever he’s dealing with must have a direct line to Rosenbaum.”

“Could it be Lawrence himself?”

“Never,” said Adam.

“Your loyalty is touching,” said Robin, turning to look at him, “but what you actually mean is you don’t want to believe it could be Lawrence.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Like my mother didn’t want to believe that my father was a liar and a drunk. So she turned a blind eye to his little foibles. You know, even when he dropped dead of cirrhosis of the liver, her only words were, ‘strange for a man who never drank.’”

Adam thought about his relationship with Lawrence and wondered if you could know someone for twenty years and really not know him at all.

“Just be wary how much you let him know,” advised Robin.

They sat in silence as Adam checked the map and went over all the different possible routes he could take once he had left the bus. He decided to aim for the German border and take the long route back to England, from Hamburg or Bremerhaven, rather than the shorter, more obvious route via Calais or Ostend.

“Got it,” said Robin suddenly.

“Cot what?” said Adam, looking u

p from the map.

“How we solve your passport problem,” she murmured.

Adam glanced at her hopefully. “If you let me have your passport,” she explained, “I’ll substitute it for the member of the orchestra who most resembles you. No one will notice anything strange at our end until we’re back home in Britain on Sunday night.”

“Not a bad idea, if there is anyone who remotely resembles me.”

“We’ll have to see what we can do,” said Robin. She sat bolt upright, her eyes moving slowly from person to person. By the time she had scanned all those in the bus from front to back, a small smile appeared on her face. “There are two of our lot who bear a passable resemblance to you. One is about five years older, and the other is four inches shorter, but you go on working out the safest way of escape while I carry out some sleight of hand. Let me have your passport,” she said. Adam handed it over and then watched Robin walk up to the front and sit next to the manager. He was chatting to the driver about the most convenient place to stop for lunch.

“I need to check something in my passport,” Robin broke in. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother. You’ll find them all under my seat in a plastic bag,” he said, and continued his conversation with the driver.

Tags: Jeffrey Archer Thriller
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