Milton killed the call. He looked around the parking lot and again at the Nissan before grabbing the Bajaj’s radio aerial and snapping it off. He bent the thin end of the aerial into a hook and crossed to the Skyline. He peeled back the rubber weatherproof strip at the top of the driver’s door and pulled hard on the top of the window frame, bending it open just enough to feed the aerial inside. He used the hook to pull the lock open and, knowing that a car this old would not have an alarm, he opened the door. He reached inside and pulled the plastic cowling from underneath the steering wheel to expose the ignition wires. He found the ones that he wanted, stripped them with his teeth and touched the bare ends together. He had no idea whether the Nissan would have fuel, but, as the ignition sparked, the engine coughed twice and then grumbled into life.

He lifted Sakura from the rear seat of the Bajaj and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Ignoring it, he arranged her as comfortably as he could on the back seat of the car, making sure that she was on her side and that her airway was clear, before getting into the driver’s seat. He pulled out his phone and read the text message from Victoria. The hotel was called the Bayt Kapoki and, according to the pin that dropped onto Milton’s map, it was only about ten minutes away. He opened the glove compartment of the Skyline and found a pair of dusty sunglasses. He cleaned them off on the tails of his shirt and slipped them on. It was a terrible disguise, but it would have to do. At least he would not be driving around the city in a bright orange motorcycle taxi. The Nissan would be far less conspicuous.

He glanced over his shoulder at his unconscious passenger before putting the car into gear, releasing the handbrake and rolling toward the exit.

20

The drive to the hotel was, to Milton’s relief, uneventful. It took longer than ten minutes, and he was sure that the app on his phone had not taken him by the most direct route, but at least they were undisturbed. He passed several police cars and motorcycles on the way down the Ngurah Rai bypass and into the Kuta area of the island, but the change of vehicle meant he was able to drift by without incident.

He pulled up to the kerb opposite the hotel and checked that he was in the right place. The building was two storeys high, with the upper level clad in dark wooden planks. On one side of the frontage was a halal restaurant with a line of mopeds parked outside. To the other side was a narrow road that led around to the rear of the building. Milton swung the Nissan around and followed the road.