Wilt in Nowhere Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the carousel he was nowhere to be seen. He sat in the toilet writing the

    address and the names Eva had given him before he came out. Twenty minutes later Eva and

    the quads passed through Immigration and Customs where they were held up for some time and

    a German Shepherd took an interest in Emmeline’s hand luggage. Two men studied the

    family for two minutes and then they were through and there was Uncle Wally and Auntie

    Joan and there was all the hugging and kissing imaginable. It was wonderful.
    It wasn’t quite so wonderful in a little room back in Customs for the man who’d called

    himself Sol Campito. The things from his travel bags were spread out on the floor and he was

    standing naked in another booth with a man with plastic gloves on his hand telling him to

    get his legs open.
    ‘Wasting time,’ said one of the men in the room. ‘Give him the castor oil and blow the

    fucking condoms out quicker, eh Joe? You crazy enough to have swallowed the stuff?’
    ‘Shit,’ said Campito. ‘I don’t do no drugs. You got the wrong guy.’
    Four men in an office next door watched him through a darkened observation window.
    ‘So he’s clean. Met the contact in Munich and left with the stuff. Now he’s clean. Then

    it’s got to be the fat Brit with the kids. How did you assess her?’
    ‘Dumb. Dumb as hell.’
    ‘Nervous?’
    ‘Not at all. Excited yes but nervous no way.’
    The second man nodded.
    ‘To Wilma, Tennessee.’
    ‘And we know where she’s going. So we keep her under observation. The tightest

    possible. OK?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Just make sure you keep under cover. The stuff that bastard’s said to have picked up

    from Poland is lethal. The good thing is we know from his notebook where that Wilt woman is

    heading with that foursome. Get there fast. This surveillance has top priority. I want to

    know all there is to know about this Immelmann guy.’

Chapter 7
    Wilt’s day had begun badly and got steadily worse. All his hopes and expectations of

    the previous evening had proved terribly wrong. Instead of the homely pub with a log

    fire, and a good meal and several pints of beer or better still real ale inside him, and a

    warm bed waiting for him, he found himself trudging along a country lane with dark clouds

    closing in from the West. In many respects it had been a disastrous day. He had walked the

    mile and a half to the station with his knapsack on his back only to find that there were no

    trains to Birmingham because of work on the line. Wilt had had to take a bus. It was a

    comfortable enough bus–or would have been if it hadn’t been half filled with hyperactive

    schoolchildren under the charge of a teacher who did his level best to ignore them. The

    rest of the passengers were Senior, and in Wilt’s opinion Senile, Citizens, out on a

    day-trip to enjoy themselves, a process that seemed to consist of complaining loudly

    about the behaviour of the hyperactive kids and insisting on stopping at every service

    station on the motorway to relieve themselves. In between service stations they sang

    songs Wilt had seldom heard before and never wanted to hear again. And when finally they

    reached Birmingham and he bought a ticket for Hereford he had difficulty finding the

    bus. In the end he did. It was a very old double-decker bus with a faded ‘Hereford’ sign

    on the front. Wilt thanked God there were no other passengers in it. He’d had enough of

    small boys with sticky fingers climbing across his lap to look out the window and of old age

    pensioners singing, or at any rate caterwauling, ‘Ganging along the Scotswood Road to see

    the Blaydon Races’ and ‘We’re going to hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line’. Wilt

    climbed wearily into the back and lay down across the seat and fell asleep. When the bus left

    he woke up and was surprised to find he was still the only passenger. He went back to sleep

    again. He had only had two sandwiches