by Mike Crowson
* * *
The Volvo estate edged slowly down the gangway and into the car deck in the depths of the car ferry. Once in place the four people got out, Ian locked up and they walked through the fire door and upstairs to the passenger deck.
"I need a drink," said the second woman, and marched into the bar, followed by Ian, Juliana and another man.
Where Juliana was a very ordinary, though attractive woman in her 30s, the second woman was ... well, striking. For a start she was tall for a woman. In that she was rather like Gill, but there the similarity ended. The woman's hair was a vivid red: it might have been a natural colour years ago when she was younger but by now had considerable help. About forty-five or a well preserved fiftyish, she carried herself confidently and, to judge from the way in which she ordered the drinks, was arrogant.
"Thanks Stella," said Ian, taking his and Juliana's.
"Here you are, Cornelius," said Stella to the fourth member of the party. He nodded and took the drink without saying anything. He too was tall: a big man, with a balding head and trimmed beard.
"I still think we should have gone on the Cherbourg route," said Ian, just making conversation.
"We went into that before," Stella answered as if confronted and challenged. "There's no hurry. We cross to Calais, spend the night there and tomorrow we take turns at driving until we cross the border at San Sebastian. We can overnight tomorrow night in northern Spain somewhere. Three days to get there without hurrying. Juliana needs her rest in her condition."
"Come on, I'm only a couple of months pregnant yet."
Stella addressed Cornelius. "You have the letter Robert left in the safe with details of the location?" He nodded. "I can perform the necessary ritual, but I will need you all to help. To recover the rings requires nothing like the power needed to send them out of time in the first place."
"You're sure you can do it?" asked Ian.
"Of course."