“Because I’m going to kill him.”
Romanov and Tomkins arrived in Dover a few minutes before the ferry was due to dock. They waited expectantly. Romanov stationed himself so that he could look through the customs hall window and watch the ferry as it sailed into Dover harbor. He had found the perfect spot behind a coffee-vending machine from which he could observe everyone who entered or left the customs hall, while at the same time remaining hidden from view.
“Just in case he should act out of character for a change,” said Romanov, “and fails to go in a straight line, you will cover the car exit and report back to me if you notice anything unusual.”
The colonel left Romanov secreted behind the coffee machine while he selected a place for himself on the dockside where he could watch the cars as they entered the customs area some fifty yards from the exit gate. If Scott did leave the ferry in a car Tomkins would easily have enough time to run back and warn Romanov before Scott could hope to clear customs and reach the main gate. At least this would be the one place Scott couldn’t risk hiding in the trunk. Both men waited.
The captain switched on his ship-to-shore radio to channel 9 and spoke clearly into the small microphone. “This is the MV Chantilly calling the Dover Harbormaster. Are you receiving me?” He waited for a moment, flicked up the switch in front of him and then heard: “Harbormaster to MV Chantilly. Receiving you loud and clear, over.”
“This is the captain speaking. We have an emergency. A male passenger has fallen out of a lifeboat onto the deck and suffered multiple injuries to his arms and legs.” Adam groaned as the captain continued. “I shall need an ambulance to be standing by at the quayside to take him to the nearest hospital once we have docked. Over.”
“Message received and understood, Captain. An ambulance will be waiting for you when the ship docks. Over and out.”
“Everything will be all right, my dear,” said Robin in a gentle voice that Adam had not heard before. “As soon as we arrive, they are going to see you are taken straight to a hospital.”
“I must get back to the bridge,” said the captain gruffly. “I shall instruct two stewards to bring a stretcher down for your brother.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Robin. “You have been most helpful.”
“It’s quite all right, miss. You did say your brother?”
“Yes, Captain,” said Robin.
“Well, you might advise him in future that it’s in his best interests to drink less before he comes on board.”
“I’ve tried,” said Robin, sighing. “You couldn’t believe how many times I’ve tried, Captain, but I’m afraid he takes after my father.” Adam held on to his leg and groaned again.
“Um,” said the captain, looking down at the gash across Adam’s shoulder. “Let’s hope it turns out not to be serious. Good luck,” he added.
“Thank you again, Captain,” said Robin as she watched the cabin door close behind him.
“So far, so good,” said Robin. “Now let’s hope the second part of the plan works. By the way, your breath smells foul.”
“What do you expect after making me swirl whiskey round in my mouth for twenty minutes and then forcing me to spit it out all over my own clothes?”
Adam was lifted carefully onto the stretcher, then carried out on to the deck by two stewards. They waited at the head of the gangplank and placed Adam gently on the deck while a customs officer, accompanied by an immigration officer, ran up to join them. Robin handed over his passport. The immigration officer flicked through the pages and checked the photograph.
“Quite a good likeness for a change,” said Robin, “but I’m afraid they may have to include this under ‘unusual scars’ in the next edition.” She threw back the blanket dramatically and revealed the deep gash on Adam’s shoulder. Adam looked suitably crestfallen.
“Is he bringing anything in with him that needs to be declared?” asked the customs official. Adam couldn’t stop himself from touching the icon.
“No, I wouldn’t let him buy any more booze on this trip. And I’ll be responsible for checking his personal belongings through with mine when I leave the ship.”
“Right. Thank you, miss. Better see he gets off to the hospital then,” said the officer, suddenly aware that a restless mob of people was waiting at the top of the gangplank to disembark.
The two stewards carried Adam down the gangplank. An attendant was on hand to check his wound. Adam waved gamely at Robin as they placed him in the ambulance.
Romanov spotted her as she came through customs. “Now I know exactly how Captain Scott hopes to get off the ship, and we will be waiting for him when he least expects it. Go and hire a car to take us to London,” he barked at the colonel.
The ambulance shot out through the customs gates with its lights full on and bells ringing. By the time they had arrived at The Royal Victoria Hospital the attendant had watched his patient’s remarkable recovery en route with disbelief. He was beginning to feel that the captain might have exaggerated the scale of the emergency.
Romanov stood by the gate and smiled as he watched the coach carrying the musicians emerge from the deep black hole of the ship and take its turn in the line for customs.
As Romanov’s eyes ranged up and down the coach he quickly picked out Robin Beresford. Just as he had anticipated, the double bass was propped up by her side, making it impossible to see who was seated next to her.
“You won’t pull that one on me a second time,” Romanov muttered, just as the colonel appeared by his side, red in the face.
“Where’s the car?” the Russian demanded, not taking his eyes from the coach.