Stride folded his head into his arms and began to mutter unintelligibly, repeating a phrase over and over again.

Fry peered cautiously out through the windows of the cab, but could see nothing in the surrounding darkness. She went to the door and pulled it open a few inches. A cold gust of rain blew in. All she could see through the blackness was the faint glow of the interior light in the patrol car, where PC Taylor was reading about skimmers and wagglers, or more likely had fallen fast asleep and was only now wondering what on earth had woken him up.

In a narrow path between the van and the car, Fry could see the rain hurtling past. The ground was glistening alarmingly as the sand began to turn to mud.

Then she saw vague shapes moving in the darkness.

‘Taylor!’ she called. But she got no response.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Cal from behind her.

‘Stay in the van. Shut the door. Lock it.’

‘It won’t lock.’

‘For God’s sake.’ She struggled desperately with the door as she felt it slip off its bottom runner and jam two feet short of the frame. ‘Try to get it shut. Stay inside.’

‘But –’

Fry stepped outside and was immediately drenched by the rain. She slid on the ground as she set off towards the patrol car.

‘Taylor!’

The noise of the downpour in the quarry drowned her voice. She tried to set off at a run, but her feet slipped and slithered. She turned to look back at the van, and saw figures surrounding it. They were dark, shapeless forms – human, but only just. The van began to sway. Glass smashed as a window was shattered.

At last a beacon flashed as PC Taylor woke up to what was going on and revved the engine of his car at the incline. Near the top, his wheels began to spin in the mud, and the bonnet slid sideways towards the drop, its headlights swaying drunkenly across the quarry.

Then Fry found herself suddenly in the midst of a crowd. They gathered close around her, silent but for the sound of their breath and the damp rustling of their clothes. All she could see were their eyes.

‘I’m a police officer. Stand clear.’

She was grabbed from behind and dragged further from the van. She felt a weight on her back, and arms clutched round her chest. She was aware of the other figures all around her, none of them speaking. Fry struck backwards with her right hand to grasp her assailant’s testicles, and missed. Twisting, she found herself facing him, though barely a glint of the white of an eye was visible through the holes in the mask he wore. She hesitated as she felt a frisson of familiarity.