‘I can see that,’ Fred said gruffly. ‘Who’s your friend?’

‘That’s my cousin Bob,’ Ben said.

‘Right, sure.’ Fred waved the shotgun in the direction of the car, noticing the fresh dents and scrapes from that evening’s escapades. ‘Come to trade the Beemer in? Looks like it’s seen better days.’

Ben shook his head. ‘And part with a classic? Sorry to disappoint you, Fred. We need to use your place.’

‘For what?’ Fred didn’t seem too delighted at being dragged out of bed at this uncivilised hour, but when Ben explained their purpose in coming here and what was in it for him if he agreed to help them, his sour expression melted into an amused sort of leer. ‘I always knew you were into some kind of heavy shit. Never asked any questions.’

‘Wise policy,’ Ben said.

The deal was struck. Fred unlocked the thick chain that held the gates, and rasped a command to the dog that sent it back to its kennel. When the Alpina was through the gates he closed them and locked them in, then waved Ben over to the large shed.

The building housed Fred’s main workshop as well as the grimy old touring caravan in which he dwelled like a troll in a cave. Ben parked up among the piled crates and assorted rusty bits of junk as Fred rolled the shutter down behind them.

Roth stepped out of the car and stood wearing his Delta face, arms folded. ‘Cousin Bob, hm?’ Fred said wryly, eyeing him. Ben skipped the formal introductions. Instead he showed Fred the pistol he’d taken from Jafari, which was Fred’s payment for letting them use his place. Fred gave the weapon the once-over and seemed satisfied. ‘Not bad. I know a guy who’s been looking for one of these.’

‘I’m not even going to ask what he wants it for.’

‘Discretion is the better part of valour,’ Fred said.

Muffled stirrings were coming from the Alpina’s boot. Ben opened the lid to reveal the gagged, blindfolded prisoner uncomfortably folded up inside. Fred didn’t miss a beat. Apparently, people came here all the time with captive terrorists to interrogate.

‘Bring him in here,’ Fred said, motioning through a doorway. They hauled the struggling Jafari from the boot of the car and dragged him by the arms as Fred led the way into an adjoining shed.