“Step on it,” urged Williams as he closed the door.

His partner hit the gas, but as they reached the intersection, a lorry crossed in front of them, then stopped with a squealing of brakes, blocking their path.

Williams’s partner hit the horn several times. The lorry driver ignored them, sitting calmly in his seat, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Shall I back up and try the other way?” asked Williams’s partner.

“Don’t bother,” said Williams. “They’re gone.”

The prisoner in the basement of the cemetery maintenance building was awake when the three men came in. They were larger than the men he had been dealing with, though similarly dressed and wearing ski masks. He sat up on the cot, the chain sliding through the loop on the wall.

“Now, ’ere’s the situation,” said the man in the middle. “We are taking you somewhere. The reason there are three of us, and us three in particular, is that we ’ave been told that you ’ave a tendency towards violence.”

They fanned out across the room.

“We ’appen to share this tendency,” he continued. “We suspect that you’ve ’ad some training in this regard. So ’ave we. There are three of us, and you only ’ave one good ’and at the moment, so attempts at any foolishness will be met with a stomping such as you’ve never dreamed about. Now, you ’ave our word that if you are cooperative, no ’arm will come to you. And when I say ‘cooperative,’ I mean if you so much as twitch the wrong way, the stomping will commence. Do we ’ave your word that no such twitching will occur?”

The prisoner looked at the three of them.

“You do,” he said. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere other than here,” said the man, tossing him a key. “Unlock the cuff from your wrist. Get up nice and slow, put your ’ands behind your back, and face the wall.”

The man complied, moving slowly. The three men converged on him, the outer two grabbing his arms while the one in the center handcuffed him. The man did not twitch.

“Well done,” acknowledged the leader. “I’m afraid the ski mask ’as to come on again. We don’t want you retracing your steps back ’ere.”

“Why?” said the captive. “Do you think I’ve acquired a liking for these accommodations?”

“I should ’ave added, we also need you to shut up until further notice.”

He grabbed the prisoner by the shoulders, turned him around, and pulled a ski cap over his face, reversed so the solid side covered his eyes.

“Right then,” he said. “Time to go. Mind the doorway.”

The Bentley pulled up to the corner of Norbiton and Salmon. It was a quiet, narrow residential street. The Brigadier and his driver looked around.

“Good choice,” observed the driver. “She can see if we’re being followed, and there’s plenty of places to get to on foot in case of trouble.”

“Sparks has a knack for escaping,” agreed the Brigadier. He caught movement off to his right. “Bogey at three o’clock,” he said.