The Freiburg Cabinet by Thomas Charrington

Author:Thomas Charrington [Charrington, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

“Fuck, it’s them!” Constanta hissed loudly, getting lower in her seat. “They’ve arrived!!And guess what they’re driving … a red Toyota!”

She giggled excitedly.

“Bull’s-eye!” Petru said, slapping her leg.

“Well done, detective!” Tarquin whispered, his head swiveling as they passed. Percy leapt from the front to the backseats repeatedly, sensing excitement, till Tarquin grabbed him and held him on his lap.

“Right, Petru. Let’s go,” she snapped, opening the car door. “Don’t stare at them … we just got to keep an eye on where they park and who they meet, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And Tarquin, be ready to move, for fuck’s sake. I’ll call to let you know when they meet him and what they’re doing, okay?”

“Thanks.”

“Hope there are not two red Toyota vans with English plates here today!” Petru said, trying to keep up with Constanta’s long stride.

“Ha ha … you’re soo funny, Petru. I’m dying here,” she said breathily over her shoulder. “There they are … parking by that small house.”

“That’s a toilet.”

“Whatever, let’s just wait on this bench and keep watch on them.”

They sat down by the station entrance, their eyes glued to the red van, people milling around them.

Presently a stocky, middle-aged man climbed out rather stiffly and stretched. Another man emerged from the passenger side and came round the van. He was slighter in build but with a mop of black hair and distinctly rounded shoulders. They both looked surprisingly respectable in checked shirts and well-cut trousers. The driver scanned the car park and then glanced at his watch. After a brief word to his partner, he disappeared into the lavatory.

The dark-haired man leaned with his back against the van and took a long thoughtful look at the station building, as though absorbing the architecture with some interest. A few minutes later the stocky man reappeared and, having taken his jacket from the driver’s seat, locked the van. They both then strolled casually towards the station entrance and passed Constanta and Petru who were having an apparently animated conversation in Romanian.

“Fuck me, they were so close!” Constanta said excitedly under her breath.

“This people are not hard men,” Petru muttered, looking over his shoulder. “They look smart, like businessmen.”

“Sure, I know what you mean. Not like those bastards from yesterday,” Constanta agreed.

“I think the driver must be Oliver,” Petru offered, “and the other guy is his helper. Did you see his hands?”

“No, darling, I didn’t,” Constanta said, stretching out her legs and pointing her toes.

After a few minutes, the dark-haired man reappeared and walked back to the van where he took up his position as before. The time was 6.25 pm.

They kept up a casual banter in Romanian for the next few minutes and then heard the arrival of a train.

“Very good,” Petru said quietly, “it is on time.”

A further few minutes went by, and then Constanta put her hand briefly on Petru’s shoulder and wandered into the marble-floored station. People were meandering about in all directions, reading newspapers, chatting, and gazing at the arrivals and departures’ board. She spotted Oliver by the entrance to the platforms.

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