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.CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEAdam wound down the car window and immediately the warm summer air flooded in.He had decided to avoid the main road to Calais in favour of the Nl to Boulogne.He still considered it possible that Romanov would have men watching at every port on the Channel coast although he doubted if Lawrence or the Americans were aware he had escaped.Once he had cleared the outskirts of the French capital, he was confident that he could average seventy kilometres an hour the rest of the way.But what he hadn't anticipated was running into a hundred or more cyclists, daubed in their various stripes of reds, greens, blues, blacks and golds, bobbing along ahead of him.As he drifted past them Adam was able accurately to check that they were averaging 40 miles an hour.Having followed the build-up for the forthcoming World Cup in Britain, he was also able to make out the national colours of France, Germany, Italy and even Portugal.He honked his horn loudly as he passed a group of four men quite near the front, clad in red, white and blue T-shirts with the British team van driving just ahead of them.A few moments later he had overtaken the leaders, and was able to put the car back into fourth gear.He switched on the car radio and fiddled around for some time before he tuned in to the Home Service of the BBC.He settled back to listen to the news in English for the first time in days.The usual reports of long strikes, high inflation, and of England's chances when the second Test Match at Lord's resumed after the rest day almost made him feel he was already back home, and then he nearly swerved off the road and into a tree.The news reader reported matter-of-factly that a young RAF pilot had been found dead in a field off the Auxerre/Dijon road after his plane had crashed in mysterious circumstances.No more details were available at the present time.Adam cursed and slammed his fist on the steering wheel at the thought of Alan Banks becoming another victim of Romanov.He tapped the icon and cursed again."It was foolish of you to contact me, young man," said the old banker."You're not exactly a hero of the Soviet Union at the present time.""Listen, old man, I don't have to be a hero any longer because I may never come back to the Soviet Union.""Be warned: Mother Russia has extremely long finger nails.""And because of my grandfather's foresight, I can afford to cut them off," the caller said, touching the gold medallion he wore beneath his shirt."I just need to be sure you don't let them know where I keep the scissors.""Why should I remain silent?" asked Poskonov."Because if I haven't got my hands on St George within the next twenty-four hours, I'll phone again with the details of how you can hope to collect a larger golden handshake than you could have expected from your present employers." The banker offered no comment.The Ambassador's secretary rushed into the room without knocking."I told you no interruptions," shouted Romanov, covering the mouthpiece with his hand."But we've located Scott."Romanov slammed the phone down.In Moscow, the old Russian banker wound the tape back.Poskonov smiled and listened to Romanov's words a second time and came to the conclusion that Romanov had left him with only one choice.He booked a flight to Geneva."Robin?""Batman.Where have you got to?""I'm just outside Paris on my way back home," Adam said."Are you sticking to the schedule you outlined on the bus?""Sure am.Why, are you still desperate to spend the night with me?""Sure am," said Adam, mimicking her."But when do you get back home?""The orchestra is taking the ferry from Dunkerque at six thirty tonight.Can you join us?""No," said Adam."I have to "eturn by another route.But, Robin, when I reach London can you put me up for the night?""Sounds like an offer I can't refuse," she said, and then repeated her address to be sure he had time to write it down."When shall I expect you?" she asked."Around midnight tonight.""Do you always give a girl so much notice?"The young KGB officer standing in the adjoining box had caught most of the conversation.He smiled when he recalled Major Romanov's words: "The man who brings me the Tsar's icon need have no fear for his future in the KGB."Adam jumped back in the car and drove on until he reached the outskirts of Beauvais, where he decided to stop at a wayside routier for a quick lunch.According to the timetable he had picked up from the Hertz counter, the ferry he wanted to catch was due to leave Boulogne at three o'clock, so he felt confident he would still make it with about an hour to spare.He sat hidden in an alcove by the window enjoying what might have been described in any English pub as a ploughman's lunch.With each mouthful he became aware that the French ploughmen demanded far higher standards of their innkeepers than any English farmworker was happy to settle for.As he waited for his coffee he took out Albert Tomkins's papers from his inside pocket and began to scrutinise them carefully.He was interested to discover exactly how many weeks he had been claiming unemployment benefit.Through the window of the inn he watched the first of the cyclists as they pedalled by.The athletes' muscles strained in their determination to remain among the leading group.As they shot through Beauvais, Adam was amused by the fact that they were all breaking the speed limit.The sight of the competitors reminded him that he was expected to attend the final part of his medical for the Foreign Office tomorrow afternoon.Romanov read the decoded message a second time."Scott returning Geneva.Check German girl and bank." He looked up at the senior KGB officer who had handed him the missive."Does Mentor think I'm that naive?" said Romanov to his Parisian colleague."We already know from our agent in Amsterdam that he's now on his way towards the French coast.""Then why should Mentor want to send you in the opposite direction?""Because it must be him who's been briefing the Americans," said Romanov coldly.Romanov turned to the colonel who was standing by his side."We know it can't be Dunkerque, so how many other possibilities are we left with?""Cherbourg, Le Havre, Dieppe, Boulogne, or Calais," replied the colonel, looking down at the map laid out on the table in front of him."My bet would be Calais," he added."Unfortunately," said Romanov, "Captain Scott is not quite that simple.And as the motorway takes you direct to Calais, the captain will expect us to have that part of his route well covered.I think our friend will try Boulogne or Dieppe first."He checked the timetable the Second Secretary had supplied him with."The first boat he could hope to catch leaves Boulogne for Dover at three, and then there's one from Dieppe to Newhaven at five."Romanov also checked Calais and Le Havre."Good.Calais left at twelve this morning, and as he phoned the girl after twelve he had no hope of catching that one.And Le Havre doesn't leave until seven fifteen tonight, and he won't risk leaving it that late.Assuming we can beat him to the coast, Colonel, I think Captain Scott is once again within our grasp
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