I moved to get up but Spike murmured:

'We might be too late. Look at his table.'

There was a '33' sign in front of him. I felt Spike tense and lower his shoulders, as though he had seen someone he recognised but didn't want them to see him.

'Thursday,' he whispered, 'get the President to my car by whatever means you can before the waitress gets back. I have to take care of something. I'll see you outside '

'What? Hey, Spike!'

But he was away, moving slowly among the lost souls milling around the newsagent until he was gone from sight. I took a deep breath, got up and crossed to Formby's table.

'Hullo, young lady!' said the President. 'Where are me bodyguards?'

'I've no time to explain, Mr President, but you need to come with me.'

'Oh well,' he said agreeably, 'if you say so – but I've just ordered pie and chips. Could eat a horse and probably will, too!'

He grinned and laughed weakly.

'We must go,' I urged. 'I will explain everything, I promise!'

'But I've already paid—!'

'Table thirty-three?' said the waitress, who had crept up behind me.

'That's us,' replied the President cheerfully.

'There's been a problem with your order. You're going to have to leave for the moment, but we'll keep it hot for you.'

I breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't meant to be dead and the staff knew it.

'Now can we go?'

'I'm not leaving until I get a refund,' he said stubbornly.

'Your life is in danger, Mr President.'

'Been in danger many times, young lady, but I'm not leaving till I get my ten bob back.'

'I will pay it,' I replied, 'now let's get out of here.'

I heaved him to his feet and walked him to the exit. As we pushed open the doors and stumbled out, three disreputable-looking men appeared from the shadows. They were all armed.

'Well, well!' said the first man, who was dressed in a very tired and battered SpecOps uniform. He had stubble, oily hair and was pale to the point of cadaverous. In one hand he held an aged SpecOps-issue revolver, and the other was planted firmly on the top of his head. 'Looks like we've got some live ones here!'

'Drop your gun,' said the second.

'You'll live to regret this,' I told him, but realised the stupidity of the comment as soon as I had said it.

'Way too late for that!' he replied. 'Your gun, if you please.'

I complied and he grabbed Formby and took him back inside while the first man picked up my gun and put it in his pocket.

'Now you,' he said, 'inside. We've got a little trading to do and time is fleeting.'

I didn't know where Spike was but he had sensed the danger, that much was certain. I supposed he had a plan, and if I delayed, perhaps it would help.

'What do you want?'