He was thinking about it as he returned to the house to break the news to Jeff about Twigg’s call. But the living room was empty and the TV was turned off, because sometime during the phone conversation Jeff had finally given in to his feverish state and slunk quietly off to his quarters to crawl into bed. That’s where Ben found him, fast asleep, and didn’t have the heart to waken him. Jeff would only make himself sicker with pointless worry, if he knew what had happened.

Ben returned to the house, went into the kitchen to pour himself a measure of Laphroaig, and ended up downing three or four of them as he sat there thinking and unable to come up with anything useful. Some hours later he was back out at the old church in the woods with Storm peering anxiously up at his beloved master, understanding something was wrong as Ben paced up and down among the ruins, racking his brains and consumed with frustration and grief at the thought of harm coming to his friend Madison Cahill.

Was this the best he could do? Was he really going to stand idly by, surrender to resignation and let her die out there?

Did he have any choice?

Early next morning, after a sleepless night, Ben drove the Le Val Land Rover across to the nearest town of Valognes to pick up some necessary supplies. He hadn’t seen Jeff since yesterday, and hadn’t wanted to disturb his rest. During that time Ben had spent every single moment turning the whole situation over and over in his mind, almost to the point of madness, and coming up totally empty. Now he was hoping that getting out of the house and doing something different might help to stimulate his tormented mind and allow some brilliant, ingenious plan to suddenly pop up, fully formed and ready for action.

It didn’t.

He was submerged deep in thought as he carried a box of groceries out of his usual épicerie in the main street of Valognes to the Landy parked at the kerbside and opened the tailgate to dump it in the back.

And he was still lost in his internal world, balancing what-ifs and worst-case scenarios against meagre half-baked possibilities that never went anywhere, when the two unsmiling men in dark coats seemed to materialise out of thin air and came walking purposefully up to him. Short hair. Lean, sombre faces. Serious eyes. One stayed silent while the other said tersely in a London accent, ‘Major Hope?’

Chapter 6

Ben turned to look at them, returning their stony gaze. As they walked closer, Storm, who’d been curled up against the inner bulkhead of the Land Rover, shot to his feet instantly alert with his ears pricked and gave the strangers a low warning growl.