“You will look quite stunning in your uniform,” he told her.
“When?” she asked.
“Next week. Ray has a lorry and Mick has the uniforms.”
“Where are the rest of the crates?” Martha asked.
“Greenwich. But we’ll shift the first load before we come back.”
“And the lorry?”
“When we’re finished, we’ll park it up near the docks at Antwerp.”
“My passport?”
“I have the address of a very good forger in Paris. With the languages you speak it will just be a matter of what nationality you want to be.”
Fred parked up outside Martha’s building. He opened the boot and lifted out a carton. “Want me to carry it up?”
“Please.”
“Want me to help you into it?”
She chuckled. “Maybe one day Fred. For now it is only for research.” She pressed a key into the front door lock. “I am intrigued. I am also fa
