An hour or so passed as Dunk closed the distance to Etaples, following the route that Slicer MD had found.
Passing the time, you both skimmed through the public node of Etaples' tourist information, looking for anything that might help shed a light on what Smith's outfit had planned for you.
Info was pretty scarce, Etaples itself was a small town of about 20,000 people clustered around a quaint harbour and fish market. It's primary source of income was tourism, the old harbour providing a source of income for small pleasure boats and light fishing craft that serviced the English channel's limited remaining shellfish industry.
It held an annual food and wine festival and the average hotel price ran to around 50NY. Other than some pretty stock photos of the harbour in summertime, the rest of the info was rather tailored to day-trippers. Bus route information, child changing facilities and parking rates filled out the other pages.
The winding country roads gradually faded from fields to old outbuildings, to pretty cottages and then you saw the sign denoting the boundary of Etaples. Dunk slowed to match the 30km/h speed limit, the warning of speed enforcement cameras raising his caution.
Right lads, what's the plan?