Someone tackled me from behind just as I reached the road, slamming me face-first onto the ground. I tried to twist free, but there were two of them, and obviously in much better shape than I was. I couldn’t see their faces clearly because of their hazmat suits, although I caught sight of a severe crew cut as they hauled me upright before hustling me in the direction of the van. My rescuer, his expression more sombre now, pulled open the doors at the rear as we approached. I was then half-thrown, half-pushed inside and the doors were slammed shut.

The outside world was barely visible through thick steel mesh that covered every window. Another sheet of mesh separated me from the front cabin, which was wide enough to take three seats. I knew this because in the next moment three men climbed in the front. The engine thrummed into life a second later.

‘You comfortable back there, Jerry?’ one of them said over his shoulder. ‘You are aware we’re trying to save your worthless skin, right?’

My name. They knew my name. That clinched it. I no longer had any doubt they were Red Harvest; perhaps they had learned my identity from Nussbaum and Keene before I killed them. Perhaps, then, they had spent all the years since hunting me down so they could take their revenge.

I wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. I lay on my back and braced myself as best I could, despite the bumping, swaying motion of the van, and started to kick at the rear doors as hard as I could with both booted feet. The metal clanged hollowly as I battered at it with all my might.

The van lurched to a halt after half a minute. I kept kicking until the doors were suddenly yanked open.

I didn’t hesitate. I threw every ounce of strength and energy I had left into hurling myself straight at the figure standing silhouetted by the bright winter sun. He stumbled backwards as I roared my anger and terror and ran past him.

The cold winter air bit at my lungs. We were still in the outskirts of Wembury, having covered barely half a mile. There were houses on all sides of me – any number of places I could hide in. I dived into the gap between two buildings, and started to clamber over a rusted heap of a car that blocked the driveway just as something punched me in the shoulder.

Or at least that was what it felt like.