It took us almost half an hour to walk to Boulogne-sur-Mer Ville. Luckily we didn’t pass many late-night shoppers; the streets were empty. People had swarmed to the marina. They were fascinated by the swirling flames and the burning wreckage of the Lady Nora. They were proving to be quite a crowd puller.
‘We made it,’ Nathan said, squeezing my hand as we walked up the stone steps to the entrance.
When we stepped out of the elements and into the warmth of the station, I instantly felt myself calm down. But my relief was short-lived when I noticed armed police patrolling the forecourt. My heartbeat increased, and anxiety filled me again. An image of Alfie swaggering into a room oozing confidence suddenly came into my head. If I followed his example and believed in myself, maybe I’d be able to walk past them without raising suspicions.
*
The track number, arrival and departure times of all the trains were listed on the illuminated boards in the main entrance. Looking up at them, we studied the information. The sooner we got away from Boulogne, the better. If we could get to Paris, we could get out of France.
‘The 19:07 to Paris is on time. That seems like a good option,’ Nathan said.
‘But it’s boarding. Do you think we’ve still got time to buy tickets?’ I asked, knowing we’d be cutting it fine.
‘If you don’t relax, you’re going to draw attention to us,’ Nathan whispered in my ear when we got in the queue.
‘But we’re going to miss it,’ I replied, fidgeting with my hands while we waited to be served.
Nathan smiled, then leant towards me and planted a lingering kiss on my mouth in an attempt to distract me. His stubble scraped my skin as his lips touched mine, and for a moment, I completely forgot where we were. The feeling of his warm mouth did exactly what he’d intended it to, and now my pulse was racing for an entirely different reason. ‘Can I have two tickets for the 19:07 to Paris and the overnight train to the Pyreneesplease? Nathan asked.
‘Would you like a couchette-inclusive fare for the overnight service?”
“Yes, please, but I’d like to pay extra and book a four-berth compartment.”
When the assistant handed over the tickets and couchette voucher, Nathan looked at me and the corners of his mouth lifted.
‘We’ll have to hurry if we’re going to catch it,’ I said.
Clasping our tickets in one hand, Nathan intertwined the fingers on his free hand in mine. He pulled me through the sea of people gathered in front of the information boards, as we quickly made our way towards platform five.
‘Here goes.’ Nathan let go of my hand and confidently walked past the armed officers.
Having plastered the best smile I could manage on my face, I followed my husband through the metal turnstile to where the 19:07 to Paris waited patiently for us to board.
‘Let’s get on here,’ Nathan said, realising the train was about to depart.
I hoped the police wouldn’t notice the nervous vibes radiating from me as I walked past them and climbed on board. We weren’t exactly law-abiding citizens any more.
‘Do you want to sit here?’ Nathan asked, stopping next to some empty chairs at the back of the carriage.
I slumped down in the seat next to the window and turned away from it. When the wheels started to move on the tracks, as the train pulled out of the station, I let out a long breath.
‘My God, that was nerve-racking,’ I said, leaning over the table towards Nathan.
My husband sat in silence, watching me, paying no attention to the conversations going on around us. Catching hold of his hand, I squeezed his fingers. The words he hadn’t spoken were powerful. He didn’t need to say a thing; I could see relief was written all over his face.
*
We didn’t have a moment to lose when we arrived at Gare du Nord station, two hours and twenty-eight minutes later. We had to get to the other side of Paris to catch the overnight train to the Pyrenees, and we only had half an hour to do it. Pulling me after him, Nathan ploughed his way through the crowd to get to the exit. Although we risked the driver recognising us, we had no choice but to jump into a taxi outside the station.
‘Gare d’Austerlitz, s’il vous plaît,’ Nathan said, as we bundled into the back of the cab for the twenty-five-minute drive.
While the cab crawled through the heavy traffic, I gazed out of the window at the impressive limestone buildings. They looked stunning lit up against the night sky. Paris was even more beautiful at night, I thought, as my eyes were drawn to the tiny white fairy lights twinkling high up in the trees lining the pavement.
The window displays of the Parisian department stores were incredible. But instead of making me feel happy, the animated figures, festive decorations and gift-wrapped presents tugged at my heartstrings and reminded me how close it was to Christmas. For the first time in years, we wouldn’t be spending it at home with Rosa.
As our taxi drove over the Seine, the reflection of the lights along the water’s edge was mesmerising. They glowed like fireflies on the surface. I wish we could have stayed here, but under the circumstances, that was impossible.
Nathan squeezed my hand and brought me out of my daydream. ‘When we get there, you go ahead, and I’ll catch you up. We’re going to be cutting it fine,’ he said, glancing at his watch.
*
When the cab came to a stop outside Gare d’Austerlitz, I got out while Nathan paid the driver. I was scared to go without him, but we only had a couple of minutes to find the right platform before the train left. I was still scanning the departure board when Nathan appeared at my side.
‘The train’s leaving from platform eight, but that’s at the other end of the station,’ I said, turning to face him.
‘Oh shit,’ Nathan replied.
Our footsteps echoed as we attempted to run through the packed forecourt, dodging the crowd of people trailing trolley cases after them. We could see platform eight in the distance, but we were having trouble forcing our way through the masses, milling about with what seemed like no other purpose than to delay us. Nathan weaved us along the concourse, changing direction frequently, to avoid the slow-moving pedestrians until finally, we made it.
‘That was close,’ Nathan said. He’d barely closed the door behind him when the train pulled away from the station.
‘I didn’t think we were going to make it.’ Panting, I slumped against the side of the carriage while I tried to catch my breath.
‘Do you have a couchette voucher?’ an attendant asked.
‘Yes,’ Nathan replied, handing over the ticket.
‘I’ll take you to your accommodation. It’s on the left-hand side at the very end,’ the young man said. He led us down a narrow, carpeted corridor. Taking out his key-card, he unlocked the door of the first-class couchette for us.
We’d reserved the whole four-berth compartment because we wanted to have some privacy. I didn’t like the idea of sharing with strangers. I couldn’t get my head around the thought of being asleep with someone I didn’t know two feet away from me, especially as our luggage was so valuable. I’d end up staying awake all night in case they tried to rob us.
I looked around our compartment. I had to say, I was impressed. I was surprised how comfortable it was. The couchette was much nicer than I was expecting it to be. There were four bunks, a toilet, shower and sink, everything we needed for the overnight train journey. I was so glad we decided to do this instead of lying low in a room somewhere. We definitely made the right decision. It made sense for us to travel through the night. The train was effectively a hotel on rails anyway. It had a restaurant and a bar and better still, when we woke up tomorrow morning, we’d be a long way from Boulogne. The thought of that made me smile.
*
I was fully expecting to toss and turn on the overnight service to the Pyrenees. I thought I’d be disturbed by the unfamiliar noises going on around me. But instead, the rolling motion of the train on the tracks was surprisingly soothing, and I soon drifted into u
ninterrupted sleep.
I woke to find the sun flooding through the thin curtains. Glancing over at the bunk opposite, I could see Nathan was still asleep. I wanted to see where we were, so I got up and gently pulled back the fabric, and when I did, the breathtaking sight of the mountainous landscape greeted me.
I didn’t want to disturb Nathan. He looked so peaceful, but I knew we’d be arriving soon, so I had to wake him. When I stroked the side of his face, he opened his eyes.
‘What time is it?’ he asked, clearing his throat.
‘It’s nine-thirty,’ I replied, checking my watch. ‘We’d better get ready; we’re due to arrive in twenty minutes.’
*
A gust of icy air took my breath away when we stepped onto the platform of the remote mountainside town. The beautiful snow-capped Pyrenees stood high above Latour-de-Carol. If we hadn’t been waiting here for our connecting train, we’d probably never have come to this small village at the end of the line. It was in the middle of nowhere, but the scenery alone made it worth the visit.
‘My God, it’s freezing,’ I said, zipping my jacket up under my chin.
‘Let’s go and see if we can get some breakfast while we wait for our connection,’ Nathan said, pointing to a chalet-style café.
Nathan and I walked the short distance to the Bistro de la Gare on the station forecourt. I was chilled to the bone by the time we stepped out of the cold, into the warm. We were welcomed inside by a French lady who stood behind the counter. A large set of antlers hung above it. The café’s interior was spotlessly clean, and its half-timbered walls and beams reminded me of a cosy ski lodge. I could imagine curling up and hibernating here for the winter, cocooned away from the elements.
Nathan carried our tray of croissants and coffees, and we sat side by side at a corner table near the television, away from the only other customer, an elderly gentleman. The news was on, and luckily for us, it had subtitles. I felt my pulse quicken as I read the words on the screen in front of us.
Acting on their suspicion that the robbery at the Antwerp Diamond Centre had been an inside job, investigators began closely monitoring Avraham Cohen’s movements. Having kept him under twenty-four-hour surveillance for several days, their hunch paid off, and Cohen led them to a luxury yacht moored in Boulogne Harbour.
As the police closed in, the thieves, described as armed and dangerous, panicked and set fire to the vessel before attempting to flee in a stolen Audi. Officers arrested the men, after a lengthy chase, when the car they were driving collided with stationary vehicles in the centre of Boulogne.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Nathan and I looked at each other over our coffee cups before we continued to watch the report in silence.
Firefighters battled for hours to put out the blaze on board the yacht before an examination of the vessel could take place. During an initial search of the remains, police discovered thirty fake passports belonging to the gang members hidden inside a safe. Further inspection of the craft revealed hundreds of packages of cocaine stashed inside two holding tanks. The drugs had an estimated street value of fifty thousand pounds a kilo.
Interpol have named Alfie Watson as the gang leader and high-profile member of an international drug-smuggling ring that they have been trying to infiltrate for years. Along with the distribution of tonnes of illegal substances, the cartel’s members are wanted in connection with money laundering, arms sales and the trafficking of stolen vehicles amongst other criminal activities.
The chief in charge of the case confirmed that although the police hadn’t recovered the jewellery and cash taken in the heist, they were confident they had caught the men responsible for the robbery and were not looking for anyone else in connection with the theft.
‘That’s a relief,’ Nathan said, looking away from the TV. He’d tried his best to sound convincing, but he still looked stressed.
89
Gemma
When I climbed on board the 10:48 train to Barcelona and found the carriage was empty, I picked a seat by the window.
‘What are we going to do when we get to Spain?’ I asked, tearing my eyes away from the view of the Pyrenees.
‘We’ll take another train somewhere else,’ Nathan replied, and a broad smile spread across his face. ‘As long as we don’t go anywhere near Switzerland, we’ll be able to cross the borders easily. You know how lax the security is.’
I had to stop myself from groaning out loud. ‘Surely now the police have caught Alfie, we can relax a bit. I was hoping we might be able to stay in one place for a little while.’ I fixed Nathan with my best pleading gaze.
His eyes met mine, and he reached for my hands. ‘I think we need to keep moving for the time being.’ He gave me a weak smile.
I smiled back, but after a few seconds, I felt it fade. I wasn’t able to hide my disappointment.
Nathan let go of my hands and looked over his shoulder to check whether anybody was listening in. The only thing he saw were rows of unoccupied seats. ‘The police might not be looking for us, but that doesn’t mean Alfie isn’t. We shouldn’t underestimate him; Gemma, he’s still a threat to us.’
Nathan was right. Even though he was behind bars, Alfie still had plenty of people on the outside working for him. The thought of what he might do to us made my head spin. He’d know by now that we’d got off the yacht alive and he wouldn’t be impressed that we’d double-crossed him. With that thought planted firmly in my brain, I let out a long sigh. I’d imagined once we were free of Alfie it would feel liberating, but it didn’t. In some ways, it was worse. We still had to watch our backs. Living with a sense that something terrible was about to happen at any moment was awful. I constantly felt on edge.
‘We took Alfie’s money, and now he’ll want to get even with us. I’m scared he’ll go after my mum,’ Nathan said, his dark eyes full of sadness. After a moment, he turned away so I could only see his profile.
Reaching across the table, I covered his hand with mine to try and comfort him. I hoped Nathan was worrying unnecessarily, but he had a point. Alfie had a reputation to maintain.
To take Nathan’s mind off things, I opened my rucksack and got out a map of Europe. Unfolding it, I spread it out on the table between us. ‘We’re due to arrive at 14:02 as long as the train’s on time. We’ve got a couple of hours to kill. Why don’t we decide where to go next?’
‘I don’t mind where we go. I’ll let you choose.’
‘Come on, Nathan, give me some input.’
Nathan stretched back in his chair. ‘We can go anywhere we want. The world is our oyster.’
Nathan was right. The options were endless, but that was only going to make the decision harder.
Nathan looked at me for a second before he spoke. ‘I would love to go back to Italy.’
Nathan and I both speak Italian, but we’re not fluent. We only know enough to get by. I love Italy too, and although it’s a tempting option, I think it might be a bit too predictable. If we didn’t want Alfie to find us, we’d need to think outside the box and go somewhere we didn’t have any connections. I scanned the map, discounting any country we’d previously been to on holiday. Where else could we head to? We needed to bear in mind that flying was out of the question. We’d never get through the security checks.
Travelling by train had to be the way forward. We could make long-distance journeys without going anywhere near an airport. Anyway, I preferred it, and we could travel overnight if we wanted to. My eyes were drawn out of the window as the train followed the rail through a deep valley, passing beneath a ring of snowy peaks. The only disadvantage of travelling at night was that we missed the beautiful scenery.
We were only at the beginning of our three-hour trip, and so far, the train had taken us along a track that weaved in and out of the mountain tops. As it hugged the sides of the gorge’s rocky walls, the views of the forests, streams and rushing waterfalls were spectacular.
Forcing my eyes away from the window and the h
illside church in the distance, I went back to studying the map. If we wanted to stay ahead of the game, we’d need to introduce an element of surprise. I suddenly had a brainwave.
‘What about Majorca? It looks like there’s a ferry from Barcelona,’ I said, tracing the route on the map with my finger. We hadn’t travelled by boat before, so hopefully, Alfie wouldn’t be expecting that.
Nathan’s face broke into a huge grin. He leant towards me, cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. ‘Majorca it is then. I’ve always fancied spending Christmas on the beach.’
*
The train pulled into Barcelona Sants station right on time. When we stepped onto the sun-drenched platform, it struck me how warm it was. Not quite the beach weather Nathan had been hoping for, but it was certainly much milder than it had been in the mountains.
As Nathan and I made our way through the crowd of people towards the exit, I noticed a tourist information desk in the centre of the station.
‘Let’s go and ask about the ferry,’ I said.
*
Armed with a map and directions to the port, Nathan and I jumped in a taxi waiting outside. Trasmediterránea’s offices, located near the World Trade Center and the Christopher Columbus monument at Port Vell, were a short drive away.
We purchased two tickets for the 23:00 ferry from the booking office. As it was such a beautiful day, instead of getting a taxi back, we decided to walk along La Rambla, a tree-lined pedestrian boulevard that stretched from Port Vell to the Plaça de Catalunya in the centre of Barcelona.
Being so close to Christmas, Barcelona was a hive of activity. Its beautiful old buildings and plazas were jammed with shoppers browsing the festive windows and stalls that lined the narrow streets.
I stopped on the pavement outside Zara. ‘Let’s go in here; we need to buy some new clothes.’
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