‘She’ll never tell us where Jane is, Marcus,’ said Bloom. ‘Do it.’

Lana’s eyes widened as Jameson’s head snapped right and his eyes met Bloom’s. The train was here. Bloom could see the driver in the brightly lit cab. She held Jameson’s gaze and said again, ‘Do it.’

Lana’s hands grasped the barrier as Jameson lifted her feet from the ground. She wasn’t screaming, but Bloom hadn’t expected her to. She was a psychopath – she wouldn’t feel fear the way they would.

The train’s loud rumbling vibrated in her ears, but Bloom heard another sound, another engine.

The dirt bike skidded off the field from behind their parked Seat and headed straight for Bloom. She jumped backwards – as the rider no doubt expected – as its front wheel stopped a millimetre from the bridge wall. Its back wheel skidded in an arc as the express train thundered underneath them.

Either Jameson had let go of Lana or Lana had broken free, because when Bloom’s vision cleared, Lana was sitting on the back of the bike. She patted the rider’s shoulder and the bike roared into action, sending dirt into the air, then reversing past Bloom, spinning 180 degrees and speeding down the road.

‘I’ll drive!’ shouted Jameson, already running back to their car.

Bloom didn’t argue. She climbed into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt as the car swerved off the grass and over the bridge. She could just see the rear lights of the bike in the distance. Jameson accelerated and Bloom hoped his memory of the road was better than hers.

‘We’ll never catch a bike,’ he said, ‘but let’s try to keep it in view.’

The road was straight for a few hundred yards. Then the small red bike light began to blink in and out of view as the road curved away and then straightened again.

‘You had me going for a second there.’ Jameson didn’t take his eyes off the road or his foot off the accelerator.

‘As did you.’ Bloom braced herself against the dashboard with her outstretched hand.

‘How did you know to call their bluff?’ They reached a T-junction and Jameson threw the car round to the right.

Bloom lurched towards Jameson and then back again. Fumes filled the air as Jameson burned through their fuel. ‘Instinct.’

Jameson raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you follow your gut, Dr Bloom?’

Only a person whose life had always been full of risk would try humour at a time like this. ‘Would you have done it if I’d been wrong?’

For the first time, Jameson’s eyes left the road and he glanced at her. It was enough.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I shouldn’t have asked that.’

They passed a level-crossing. Bloom looked down the tracks, checking for trains.

‘Shit,’ said Jameson, under his breath.