Chain sighed and sprung the locks. Petrovitch heaved the car door open and slipped inside, bundling the blanket into the backseat. He pulled the door shut again, and looked around.

“Guns?”

“I have one. I’m the police, remember: we don’t go handing out weapons to members of the public.”

“Funny how they seem to get hold of them anyway.” He reached behind him and pulled out a pistol from his waistband. It was tiny; Petrovitch could conceal it in the palm of his hand.

“I’m disappointed,” said Chain. He turned the engine over and waited for it to catch.

“Yeah. My yelda’s much bigger.” He made the gun disappear again. “How about the armor?”

“That I can let you have. You will have to sign for it, though, and according to the form, account for any damage it might suffer while in your care.” Chain cocked an ear at the rattle coming from under the bonnet, then decided it was no worse than usual. He pulled out into the traffic without warning.

When the sound of horns had died down, Petrovitch put his feet up on the dash and leaned back against the headrest. “Nice car.”

“You’d better not be wasting my time. I will charge you if you are.”

“Yeah. Course you will. Don’t worry, it’ll be worth it.”

“So: are you going to tell me where we’re going, or should I just drive around for a while?”

“My lab. You know the way.” Petrovitch took his glasses off and held them up to the early morning light. They weren’t quite as filthy as Chain’s car. “While we’re on that subject: if you ever, ever try and plant one of your stupid little bugs on me again, I’ll cut you like I’m butchering a svinya and turn your guts into sausage. You got that?”

Chain tutted. “Wrong side of the bed, was it?”

“Any bed would have been nice. The only reason I’m talking to you is because I can use you. The moment that becomes unnecessary is the moment I dump you like govno.”

“Your turn of phrase is as poetic as ever.” The car jerked to a halt. The lights strung across the road were green, but they were going nowhere. “What the hell is the matter with the traffic now?”

Chain reached forward and fetched his satnav a couple of hefty blows with his hand. The screen flickered but refused to indicate an alternative route.

“You could always put on your blue light,” said Petrovitch.

“Ha. Ha. It’s been like this since midnight. Random, local gridlock, coming and going. Disappearing in one area only to appear in another.”

Petrovitch scratched his ear. “Has it got worse in the last thirty minutes or so?”

Chain looked across at his passenger. “Why would it?”