Over the next two days Wolf made his way across France. He slept rough at night, in remote spots where police patrols wouldn’t harass him. Hitch-hiking was the best way to avoid bus and railway stations or anywhere else his face might get picked up on a security camera. Even though French citizens were far less heavily surveilled than the subjects of the cynically mistrustful British state, you could never be too careful. Most of his rides were with long-distance truckers, in whose company he felt comfortable. His dad had been a lorry driver all his life, before lung cancer had punched his ticket. If Wolf hadn’t joined the Marines, he might have pursued the same freewheeling, solitary kind of existence.

On the third day since leaving London he reached the Pyrenees and crossed the border into Andorra. He was elated knowing that he’d made a clean getaway. Soon he would get to his final destination. A place that he had often visited in his dreams. A secret haven where the evil lunatics he’d worked for could never find him. His new life would be a simple one, keeping himself to himself, close to nature and the things that he loved. He had enough money to last him years, maybe even forever if he was frugal. He would be safe and free, and happy. The future seemed assured.

That, at any rate, was the plan. If Jaden Wolf had known then who his employers would soon be sending to track him down, he wouldn’t have been so confident.

Chapter 8

Ben hurtled from Le Val towards Calais, a long drive across northern France whittled down to just over three hours by the insane speeds at which he pushed the high-performance Alpina along the motorway through the dead of night.

He made only two stops along the way. The first was to refuel and buy a ham and cheese half-baguette sandwich, some bottled mineral water and some handi-wipes from the service station shop. The second stop was in search of a quiet spot away from the main road, where he used one of his burner phones to book a crossing on the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle, due to depart at 03.25, in the name of Paul Harris. That done, he ate behind the wheel while rereading the file on Jaden Wolf that Saunders had given him. It revealed nothing of what Wolf had been doing for these people, or why they might want him dead. But Ben could guess. He could guess plenty.

He washed down the sandwich with some water, smoked a Gauloise, then got out of the car and set about taking the necessary precautions to conceal the items he needed to smuggle illegally into Britain. He’d made the same simple modification to several of the cars he’d owned. It had always worked for him in the past and with a bit of luck it would work now.