Читать книгу Day Of Atonement - Alex Archer - Страница 15

They drove back to the hotel in near-silence, Philippe constantly tuning the radio in search of a song that wasn’t going to get on his nerves. Obviously it wasn’t about the music. It didn’t matter what he found. Nothing matched his mood. Annja resisted the temptation to lean over and kill the radio. She concentrated on the road, checking her rearview mirror a couple of times more than she normally would have.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Roux’s call had disturbed her. She knew he was always concerned about her well-being, but that the first thing he said was to question whether the incident at Carcassonne was an accident…that was a little paranoid, even for him. So she was watching, even if she wasn’t sure what she was watching for. Of course it had crossed her mind that the falling masonry could have been something other than a freakish accident, especially as Roux had chosen that moment to call her. Annja had been in the old man’s orbit enough not to believe in coincidence. He hadn’t misdialed as he’d said. He was checking up on her. And once her mind started down that path she knew it wasn’t an accident.

She thought about the silver Mercedes.

Cause and effect? Or seeing patterns where there were none?

“What do you want to do about food?”

“I like the way you think.” She grinned.

Philippe shrugged and started to fiddle with the radio again. “I’m French. We love good food and good company.”

“And I sure could use a drink.” Annja tried to stay focused, but her thoughts kept going back to her conversation with Roux.

“Now I’m liking the way you’re thinking,” Philippe murmured as he glanced out the side window. Clever. She could be friends with this one, she decided.

“I think we might even stretch it to sharing a bottle,” she suggested.

It wasn’t long before her mind was elsewhere though, as the horn of a car traveling toward them on the other side of the road blared, causing her to admit she’d drifted toward the middle of the road. Instinctively, she jerked to correct the drift, overcompensating and yanking the wheel too hard in the other direction, which had the seat belts bite hard into their shoulders.

“Whoa, there, speedy. I know you want me, but let’s get to the bar in one piece, eh?”

“You wish,” she snapped back, regretting it the moment the words left her mouth. She tightened her grip on the wheel and eased her foot off the accelerator. “Sorry, it’s been a weird day.”

“All the more reason to end it with a friend,” Philippe said, and she realized he was right.

“I need to blow off some steam.”

“I think I can help with that,” the cameraman said with a wry smile.

“I’m sure you can.”