He’d often wondered why they bothered displaying information about local attractions inside the amenities building. Surely anyone who called at a service area was on the way somewhere else, by definition. Nearby attractions were the ones that motorists were least likely to visit, since you couldn’t actually get off the motorway at this point.

Well, that wasn’t quite true, of course. If you were an ‘authorized vehicle’, there was always a local service road over at the back somewhere. But law-abiding motorists weren’t supposed to know that. If they saw a sign that said ‘no unauthorized vehicles past this point’, they obeyed it, didn’t they?

Cooper scanned the exit lanes that ran past the petrol station, and located the service road on the southbound side. According to his map, this one twisted back towards the A609, the Nottingham road.

‘You’re sure Elder is going to meet someone?’

‘Well, he isn’t doing anything else, is he?’ said Fry reasonably. ‘He hasn’t got out of the car yet. It’s my guess he’s waiting, like us.’

They saw Murfin’s car turn in from the motorway, then disappear from view. A moment later, Murfin himself opened the back door of the Toyota and slid in.

‘Anything happening?’

‘Not yet. I need you to get closer to the Nissan over there.’

As they spoke, a liveried police car cruised into the parking area, did a slow circuit, and drove out again through the petrol station forecourt, back on to the motorway.

‘They didn’t even stop for a piss,’ said Murfin. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘Maybe it’s a Nottinghamshire thing.’

‘Aye. They don’t have bodily functions over here. Like the Queen.’

Cooper watched a minibus pull in a few places away from Elder’s Nissan, but a dozen laughing women scrambled out. A hen party on the way to the airport for a couple of days hitting the bars of Prague or Vilnius, probably. This was the way Eastern Europe got a taste of British culture these days.

‘Speaking of having a piss –’ said Murfin, opening the door again.

‘Gavin, you can’t.’

‘I won’t be a jiffy. You said there was nothing happening.’

‘Well, stay away from the café, won’t you?’

‘That’s the trouble with these places,’ said Murfin. ‘They design them so you can’t even go for a slash without passing right between the café and the shop. There’s food on all sides of you. It’s a nightmare.’

‘You’re the nightmare, Gavin.’

‘I’m only kidding. What do you think I am?’

‘Well, make sure you’ve got your phone with you. If anything starts to move, I’ll call you, and you’ll have to get back here damn quick.’

Murfin trotted across to the amenities building, tugging at the waistband of his trousers and shaking his legs to get rid of the cramp from sitting in the car.