‘We’ve been expecting you, Detective Constable,’ he said, once he’d checked her passport. ‘We’ve just had a call from Scotland Yard warning us that you’d be wanting to travel on this flight. I’ve put you in the back row of economy. There’s a rear door, so you can be the last on and the first off the plane.’
He handed her a ticket and said, ‘Have a good flight, Ms Pankhurst.’
‘Do I have time to go and tell my boyfriend why I won’t be joining him?’
‘I’m afraid not. The gate is about to close.’
Rebecca reluctantly headed down the long empty corridor, and was the last passenger to board the plane. She didn’t relax during the entire flight. Her mind continually switched between Archie, wondering if he’d ever speak to her again; DCI Warwick, who she would happily have strangled; and Booth Watson, the root cause of her problems, who she assumed was seated up front in business class.
She began to consider her alternatives once the plane had landed in Barcelona. Was Booth Watson being picked up? Would he take a taxi, a bus or a train into the city? Had he already booked himself into a hotel? If so, was that where he would meet up with Faulkner? Or would he be driven straight to his new bolthole? And if that were to happen, what was she expected to do?
She’d gone over a dozen scenarios before the plane touched down, and was back in detective mode by the time it parked at the gate.
When the rear door was opened by a stewardess, Rebecca was first out of the blocks, not a moment to waste. She walked quickly down the steps and into the terminal, where she joined the throng of passengers heading for customs. Someone moving even more quickly caught up with her.
‘Slow down and link your arm in mine, Detective Constable,’ said a voice clearly used to giving orders. She glanced at the man by her side and carried out his instruction.
‘Don’t look back. Just keep walking, and leave the rest to me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she found herself saying.
‘I’m Lieutenant Sanchez of the Spanish National Police Corps,’ he said without even glancing in her direction. ‘My commanding officer had a call from a Commander Hawksby, who didn’t leave us in any doubt how important your visit is.’ He didn’t speak again until they’d reached customs, where the desk officer didn’t ask to see her passport, just saluted. Him, not her. The lieutenant chose a spot with a clear view of all eight customs posts and said, ‘Just point him out the moment you see him.’
Rebecca kept her eyes on the stream of passengers joining the long queues to present their passports to a customs official. It was some time before she said, ‘That’s him, waiting in line at the sixth box. He’s the only person who doesn’t look as if he’s going on holiday.’
‘Three-piece suit, around fifty, slightly balding, carrying a leather briefcase.’
‘You’ve got him.’
The lieutenant nodded to someone Rebecca didn’t see. Once Booth Watson had cleared customs they followed him through baggage control – he had nothing to collect – and on into the arrivals hall. He hurried out of the airport and joined the taxi queue.
Rebecca noticed a young man slip into line behind him. When Booth Watson eventually reached the front of the queue and climbed into the back of a taxi, the young man made a note of the number plate, but didn’t jump into the next cab.
‘Isn’t he going to follow him?’ she asked, trying not to sound desperate.
‘Can’t risk it,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Your chief made it clear that if the man you’re after thinks he’s being tailed, he’ll head straight back to the airport, and your journey will have been wasted. But don’t worry, we have the details of the taxi driver, and we’ll interview him later and report back to Scotland Yard to let him know where he dropped off your man.’
‘What if he switches taxis?’
‘He’ll find the next available one is one of ours,’ he said, looking across the road and nodding.
‘So, I’m nothing more than a messenger,’ said Rebecca.
‘A very attractive messenger, if I may say so, se?orita.’
‘You wouldn’t get away with that in PC England,’ said Rebecca, smiling.
‘Ah, but you are now in Barcelona, not England.’
‘What am I expected to do now?’
‘You have been booked on the next flight to Florence, where your boyfriend will be waiting for you in arrivals.’
‘How did you manage that?’