So long as he didn’t call emergency services, anyway. But however he looked at it, he couldn’t see how it would work for him personally. He couldn’t call from his own phone; the call would be traced. There were no phone boxes these days, so that was out. And even if he borrowed a phone from someone, they would remember him and be able to give a description later. All calls to the emergency services were recorded, and if the recording ended up on TV then about four hundred people would call in because they recognised Jan’s voice.

Granted, it was unlikely that a call like this would end up as part of a TV appeal, but if the police had any sense they would think it a bit odd that someone had called anonymously to raise the alarm about what was meant to be a one-car accident.

And then there was the other thing too, he thought as he miraculously avoided making mincemeat of a rabbit that had hopped into the path of his headlights. There was a minimal chance that that chick—whom he had almost forgotten in the rush of this more shocking incident—hadn’t been completely on board. And that she might have contacted the fuzz, or at least called a relative who might have done it for her. She would be able to claim that Jan had drunk a load of booze and that he had left her at this or that time and had passed the scene of the accident at the exact same bloody time as the accident had happened. That wouldn’t look at all good to the police.

He had to admit he had been a shade intemperate this afternoon, having put himself at risk of being charged with no fewer than three fairly serious crimes. In the eyes of the law, of course—not his own. The first was no crime at all—just a bit of mutual fun. And the second was no crime either—just an accident, given that Jan was driving with so much care and hadn’t been affected by the small amount of alcohol he had drunk. The other madman had been driving too fast and had made bad choices on a treacherous road.

What really bothered him was that the crime he had not committed in relation to the accident by the ravine suddenly became a crime simply because he didn’t want to stick around to see the results of the whole mess. It made him so angry that now that he came to think about it he thumped his fists on the wheel, sending shockwaves all the way up to his elbow.

He began to head for work. So that he could say he had been at work that afternoon to anyone who might want to know. He felt so bad and he was anxious too, as he knew full well that he would be unable to produce much during what little remained of the working day. But it was enough for him to show his face a few times to give his colleagues the impression he had been there. The rest of the time he could stay in his office with the door shut.