Inverness
12 – 30 p.m.
April 17th
Stanton threaded the van through busy Inverness streets and into a pay and display car park on Strothers Lane, near the railway station. He checked for cameras as he drove in and before getting out of the van he searched the van for change. In the glove box there was two pounds forty-three in change. He strolled casually across to the machine put enough in for an hour and a half and went to find himself a place to eat. It was getting on for lunch and he had a yearning for pasta, besides, he had to see if the card worked and no better place or time than a restaurant.
When he got to Bridge Street he found Bella Pasta. It was pleasant and the waitress was friendly. He sat by the window, as was his habit, people watching, keeping an eye out. He ordered spaghetti, tomato based sauce and a bottle of sparkling mineral water. When it came he ate it slowly and deliberately. He’d done his homework and the night train didn’t leave until gone eight. He wasn’t going to go in until the last minute, though he’d book the ticket after lunch. He knew Mason was booked on it, but he didn’t care about the rule on any of them travelling together. He was sure it would be fine.
With thoughts of his travel arrangements cleared from his mind, eating his spaghetti, he wondered if the wife of the frozen truck driver was somewhere in the crowds that passed by. He wondered if he was being watched. He wondered why they’d not come in through Dover or even Heathrow? Why Scotland? What also bothered him was the fact that whoever was behind this could get them on a British submarine, but had only given them thirty pounds in cash. The fake credit card looked good enough though. In the back of his mind he sensed that something didn’t add up. Still, he thought, he was in it now and there was a million at the end. He called the waitress and handed over a Mastercard. He was pleased when it worked. That meant no ‘fishing’ for money or cash, which always meant death and the added risk of capture.