The Stealers Read online

  ‘My Mustang,’ Crane finished.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Bradley kept his foot hard down on the Mustang’s accelerator. He handled the car well, negotiating the twists and turns on the dusty track, by allowing the rear wheels to slither violently from side to side, at high speed, until he reached the main road. Without stopping or taking heed of any other approaching vehicle, the tyres screeched as its V8 engine powered the car in the direction of the E15, the route to the port at Malaga and then, for the Mustang, onwards to the USA.

  *

  Crane reacted like a lounging cat who had idly spotted a mouse, he came instantly out of his repose. In a split second, his hand rocketed towards the ignition and, slamming the car into gear, he brought the Rover around to follow in Bradley’s dusty wake. Without comment, Daniella tightened her safety belt, bracing herself against this erratic performance by clinging to the sides of her seat and pressing her feet hard into the floor. Crane surmised that this may be his last chance to snatch Bradley. He paused briefly at the main tarmac road, waiting for the dust to settle, revealing fresh tyre marks clearly pointing towards the direction Bradley had taken – the E15 dual autovia motorway that leads to Malaga.

  *

  Bradley kept an eye on the rear-view mirror; he expected to be followed. The E15 was clear in both directions except for a tiny dark spec, like a dirty mark on the mirror, in the distance. He felt confident that the V8 Mustang, with its special Shelby conversion, now registering one hundred and fifteen mph on the speedo, would outrun Crane’s old Rover. For a while, Bradley’s mind focused upon Crane being able to predict his whereabouts all the time and concluded that it all pointed to Ryan. If Ryan had not told Crane in person, then somehow Crane must have got hold of his mobile phone; that idiot Ryan was too idle to erase anything. Bradley concluded his thinking with the question of the port at Malaga; he was absolutely certain that he had never mentioned the port to anyone.

  As he drove, he could see in the distance to one side, the snow capped mountains of the great Sierra Nevada looming ominously against a deep-blue sky. His eyes flicked towards the rear-view mirror; the tiny speck had grown much larger but it was not yet identifiable, even so, it niggled Bradley. As a precaution, he decided that he would leave the motorway. Almost immediately, a series of bends came into view, and between two curves, he took an exit heading towards the Sierras. He kept an eye on the rear-view mirrors as the car glided down a gradient off of the main highway, and knowing he could not be seen by anyone behind, felt euphoric as the car disappeared from view.

  *

  Crane’s Rover shot past the Sierra turn off, and after another curve, the motorway straightened out, stretching into the distance. ‘Lost him,’ Crane muttered more to himself than his passenger, ‘he’s turned off!’

  Breaking all the rules, Crane jammed his foot on the brakes and slewed to a halt and, putting the car into reverse, he backed along the hard shoulder for three kilometres.

  ‘Glovebox,’ he said to Daniella. ‘Inside you’ll find a black plastic device that looks like a mobile phone; it’s a tracker.’

  Daniella leaned forward as her hand darted inside and came out holding the tracker.

  ‘There’s a switch on the side,’ Crane added.

  Daniella flipped it on and almost immediately a distinct beep filled the car with its repetitive noise. She held the tracker in her hand, steadily pulsing away. She looked at the tiny LCD screen, indicating direction and distance, while Crane swung the car into the Sierra exit.

  ‘Do you know I almost forgot the tracker was in there. Never thought I’d need it. It’s old army surplus but it only has a range of about fifteen miles. Tell me, what’s on the screen?’

  Daniella read out, ‘He is three point two miles distant, direction North West. Would he know he is being followed?’

  ‘Not unless he catches sight of me. There’s a transmitter that I built into the chassis some time ago, it would be very difficult to find, so providing he is not out of range, we’ll know exactly where he is heading and we’ll eventually catch up with him. I hate to admit it, but this old souped up Rover is much faster than the Mustang.’

  Bradley chided himself for being over cautious. There was no hurry to get to the port at Malaga. The ship, on which he had reserved space for the Mustang, was not due to sail for a week. The thought lightened his mood and also as he took account of the winding road, he eased up on the accelerator and resolved to stop at the next convenient roadside cafe.

  Within two kilometres a small village came into view. Bradley pulled off the road and parked near to a small bar. There were only a few people inside the surprisingly cool and ornately tiled interior and the friendly waiter responded quickly to Bradley’s, ‘Cerveza, por favor,’ immediately setting down a San Miguel beer onto the table together with a plate of tapas. From where he sitting, he threw an occasional glance towards the Mustang. It was in full view, however he did not see the Rover pull up some metres behind.

  Crane looked at Daniella and delved into a pocket and produced a set of keys for the Mustang, ‘Follow me up in the Rover and once we are out of the town, I’ll contact Gerard and he can get the French police to alert the authorities in Spain of Bradley’s whereabouts.’

  Bradley ordered another beer and just as he was taking his first sip he saw something from the corner of his eye that distracted him; the Mustang began to move. Slamming the glass down he rose up in a panic, stumbling across the bar. Turning heads watched curiously and shrugged shoulders as he pushed chairs out of the way, thrusting himself towards the door, but it was too late; Crane had driven the Mustang away. Anger and frustration rose in him. Immediately his eyes darted towards the Rover and he ran towards it. Daniella, sitting in the driver’s seat, had put the car in gear, but her foot slipped on the clutch and the engine stalled. She was busy staring at the dashboard, watching her right hand as it turned the ignition key. She did not see Bradley run up towards her, not until he grabbed hold of the rear door handle, yanked back the door and threw himself inside. Daniella felt her breath drain away as the engine fired up and Bradley, scrambling in his pocket for the Glock, sank low in the rear seat and snarled, ‘Get going then, you don’t want to lose him do you? Oh, and don’t do anything silly or this gun may go off.’

  Daniella glanced nervously at Bradley through the rear-view mirror as she followed the Mustang. It seemed to both her, and to Bradley, that Crane was totally oblivious to what had happened.

  ‘How did he find me?’ Bradley snapped.

  Daniella hesitated, but before she could utter a word, Bradley continued matter-of-factly as though talking to himself, ‘His car is obviously fitted with a tracking device; we checked it over, but couldn’t find one, it must have been well hidden.’

  After a few kilometres, Crane stopped the Mustang in a lay-by and waited for Daniella to catch up. Peering between the front seats, Bradley ordered her to pull the Rover in behind the Mustang. ‘Stay in the car,’ Bradley hissed, ‘let him get out and come to you.’

  Daniella sat still and remained quiet. She watched Crane as he leapt out of the Mustang and walk nonchantly towards the Rover with his hands in his pockets.

  Crane glanced briefly at Daniella’s terrified face – staring blankly at him through the windscreen – but his eyes were focused on the top of Bradley’s barely discernible head tucked behind the driver’s seat. It was no surprise to him, when Bradley showed his hand, revealing the semi-automatic resting on the back of Daniella’s head, but Crane had been expecting this and in the same split second brought his right-pocketed hand up and shouted, ‘You shoot her and I’ll make you suffer before I kill you.’

  Bradley was not expecting this move. His mind raced as Crane pulled the jacket away with his free hand revealing the semi-automatic Glock. Daniella, although tense, felt a breath of relief pass through her but there was no chance of leaning over or falling to one side; her movements were restricted by the firm embrace of the seat belt.


  All three remained inanimate for a few seconds, until Bradley called out, ‘Consider this; give me the Mustang and the tracker and nobody gets hurt.’

  Crane thought for a moment before agreeing, ‘Okay, but I need to get the tracker out of the Mustang.’

  ‘Then be quick about it. Step well back from the car while we get out,’ Bradley cautioned, adding, ‘we don’t want any accidents do we?’

  With the gun still aimed at Bradley, Crane backed off towards the Mustang, a few metres away, opened the passenger door and held the tracking device high in the air, ‘Here,’ he called out.

  ‘Put it on the boot lid,’ Bradley snarled, ‘and step away from the car.’

  Crane moved back, but kept his gun trained on his adversary.

  Bradley gripped Daniella’s arm with one hand and held the gun trained on the back of her head with the other hand, as they walked towards the Mustang.

  ‘Open the door,’ he commanded and Daniella reached forward opening the door to its full extent.

  ‘She comes with me,’ Bradley called out to Crane.

  ‘No way!’ Crane replied steely, his grip on the handgun unwavering as he levelled the Glock at Bradley.

  Bradley let go of Daniella’s arm, but still held the gun to her head, as he swung himself into the car behind the steering wheel. For a brief instant Daniella saw Bradley’s gun hand waver as he groped for the ignition. Seizing the opportunity, in that split second, she threw herself out of the way onto a grassy verge, with all the force that she could muster. At the same time, the engine fired up and Bradley crashed it into gear, ramming his foot down hard. The Mustang sped off leaving the driver’s door to slam shut from the momentum.

  Crane lowered his gun and, with some concern he rushed up to Daniella, ‘You okay?’

  She got up, brushing herself down with her hands, ‘I am now,’ and with a smile of relief said, ‘what next?’

  ‘We tail him.’ Crane produced the tracker from his jacket pocket as they walked towards the Rover and climbed in.

  ‘I thought you handed it to him.’

  ‘I did, but I had a spare; it was duff. I saw him get into the back of the Rover. I’ll follow at a distance from now on and when there’s a chance of a hotel… ’

  ‘Promises, promises, you’re just trying to cheer me up.’

  *

  Bradley was disappointed that he had not been able to nail Crane, but was elated once again at the thought of retrieving the Mustang and his ego came in to play big-time, “Nobody gets the better of me!” He decided to put some distance between his encounter with Crane and drove for seventy-odd kilometres heading towards Motril, eventually nestling in amongst the traffic in and around the town. He continued to keep a lookout for a hotel, with car parking facilities, where he could tuck the Mustang out of sight; well away from curious eyes.

  *

  Jack Crane kept a distance of two kilometres from his adversary, but edged much closer when he entered Motril, a large commercial town near to the coast. Daniella, held the tracker like a mobile phone, continually looking at the tiny screen when she announced, ‘He’s stopped and the signal is fading, are the batteries okay?’

  ‘They’re brand new. Maybe he’s entered an underground car park; that would weaken the signal. How far away is he?’

  ‘Not far off; about one hundred metres.’

  ‘Okay, let’s find a place to park and we’ll go on foot.’

  Crane managed to park on the main road and, after feeding the meter, they looked around the immediate area. An underground car park was sited nearby which was an obvious choice to start with. However they had no success there. Widening the circle a little, they came across a hotel with a sign that indicated secure parking for guests. Crane looked at Daniella and remarked, ‘Now that’s a fair bet.’

  Daniella shuddered at another possible encounter and said, ‘Going from bitter past experience, do you think the police should check this one out?’

  ‘The police could do it. The downside is that answering their questions could take up a lot of time and Bradley could be elsewhere, so I need to make sure he is in the hotel.’

  Crane nodded towards the other side of the road and added, ‘In the meantime, there’s a nice little tapas bar across the road. It may be best if you wait for me there.’

  Daniella readily agreed, pecked him on the cheek with her parting words of, ‘Do be careful.’

  Crane smiled and said quietly, ‘I always am.’

  Daniella crossed the road, entering the tapas bar and settled down with a coffee by the front window, facing the hotel.

  Crane ran back to where he had parked the car and, delving into his holdall, pulled out a beanie hat which he put it on. Next he grabbed hold of his sunglasses and checked himself in the mirror. “Reasonable,’ he thought, ‘but not quite.” Digging further into his holdall he felt thankful he had stowed away some things that he had not used for quite a while; a moustache and a small tube of spirit glue. Within five minutes his disguise was complete and he strode boldly towards the El Mundo Hotel.

  Crane, upon entering the main swing doors, rounded his shoulders to add to his makeshift disguise. Looking around, he found the foyer to be unattended, but chatter echoed through from an adjacent bar. He spotted the hotel register lying on top of the desk and quickly checked the latest entries; no English names were listed. His next move was to enter the bar. No one seemed to as notice he sauntered in and out. Then, back in the foyer, he looked over the information notice board which gave details, in four languages, of the location of its sixty rooms and, more importantly, the underground garage.

  A lift was positioned next to the staircase and, looking around to make sure he was unobserved, Crane quickly leapt inside and descended to the basement garage. He stepped out and stood still by the lift for a few moments, whilst he adjusted his eyes to the dim lighting. Looking around, he was surprised to find that most of the parking area spaces were taken but, within seconds, he noticed with relief a red car in a corner. It was almost hidden between two pillars; there stood his cherished Mustang! Crane strode up to the car and producing his spare set of keys, unlocked the door, but as he began to open it, a gruff accented voice called out menacingly, ‘¡Quítate de ahí!’

  Crane spun round to find a stocky well-built man standing several metres away.

  ‘This is my… ’ Crane began, but was immediately interrupted by the man advancing threateningly with another gruff order, this time in English, ‘Get out of here!’

  It went against the grain but Crane decided that it was best to comply, so he threw his hands up into the air and, shaking his head, said, ‘Okay, okay, I’m going!’

  The man’s fierce eyes followed Crane as he walked towards the lift but, when stepping inside the open doors, Crane found he could not resist giving the man a cheerful wave goodbye.

  Back in the tapas bar Daniella gazed through the window at Crane as he crossed the road with a huge grin on his face. She greeted him with, ‘You’ve found it then?’

  ‘Yeah, now I can sit back, get the ball rolling and call the… ’ He stopped short of saying police. His eyes widened when the Mustang suddenly roared out of the hotel’s underground car park, joining a stream of traffic and then disappearing from view.

  *

  Bradley had been comfortably settled in an armchair in his hotel room, sipping a large brandy, when the garage attendant phoned through and told him that someone had tried to get into his Mustang. ‘What does he look like?’

  Apart from the beanie hat, sunglasses and moustache, the English accent and build would fit Crane. The information spooked Bradley so he decided to leave – fast! As he approached the exit of the garage, he paused and looked up and down the street. He could see no sign of Crane’s old Rover, so he pulled out and blended in with the constant stream of traffic. His mind settled down on getting out of Motril and he concluded that, if it was Crane back at the hotel wearing a disguise, then it figured that he must still have a tracking devic
e. He guessed that the tracker may be old and must have been hidden well inside the chassis, in any event he concluded that it would have a limited range.

  He kept a constant eye on the mirror for the Rover as he drove the car back on to the E15 coast road, but could see no sign of it. He drove on to the dual carriageway where the Mustang was able to perform at a constant speed. With it came the reassurance of outdistancing Crane.

  Maybe the intruder in the garage was not Crane; just someone being curious, or even a potential thief. He considered that perhaps he was being over cautious, but then, that was how he had survived, over the years, since his escape from Broadmoor.

  *

  It took Crane twenty minutes to get the Rover out of the public underground car park and back onto the road but, all the time, the Mustang was gaining ground. Stuck in a stream of traffic, Daniella, looking intently at the tiny tracker screen, said, ‘He’s fifteen kilometres away; fifteen was its range right?’

  ‘In miles, not kilometres; there’s a button on the side to change over.’

  Daniella pressed a button, converting the distance and read out, ‘Nine miles away and going to… ten.’

  By the time Crane reached the E15 dual carriageway, the tracker was near its limit of fifteen miles, but now, at the edge of Almunecar, an ancient coastal town, he picked up the dual carriageway and, with the help of the Rover’s twin-turbos, he gradually began to narrow the gap.

  The signal disappeared completely as they travelled through a series of tunnels but, when it reappeared, they realised that they were closing the gap. However, after the fifth tunnel as they drove out of Granada Province into Malaga Province, the screen did not reappear and the tracker remained silent.