Irritated already, Lawrence followed and found himself in a hallway and then a lounge area. The heat was unbearable.

‘Crikey, is your heating broken?’ Lawrence puffed. ‘It’s like a sauna in here!’ When he didn’t get a reply, Lawrence said impatiently, ‘What is it then? What do you want moving and where?’

The figure drifted across the room, which had a sofa and TV in it, and a small cabinet in the corner. And something else.

‘It’s this.’

The figure motioned to the safe in the corner. Reinforced steel and with a circular dial, it was a hell of a bit of kit. Lawrence sucked his teeth and inspected it, tapping the surfaces and finding them rock solid.

‘Shit. I dunno. Where do you want it shifting?’

‘There is no address, I’m afraid, but here’s a map.’

Lawrence took the map and studied it. Looked again and winced. The bloody Norfolk coast!

‘You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,’ Lawrence said, handing the map back. ‘This ain’t for me, I’m afraid. You’ll need to find some other mug.’

‘Triple rate. In cash.’

Seriously?

Lawrence scratched his head. He thought about his gambling debt and the money he owed to the loan sharks. He was in it up to his neck.

‘All right,’ Lawrence said at last. ‘Triple rate. When d’ya want it moving?’

The figure smiled. ‘I’ll call you. I need to fill it first.’

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

‘What do you think of our reporter friend?’

Priest pushed a bottle of ketchup across the table towards Georgie and watched as she unscrewed the cap and made a fuss of dolloping it over her fried breakfast. If he didn’t know better, he would have said she was buying time to consider her answer.

‘Fox? I’m not sure I trust her.’

‘Not sure I do either,’ concluded Priest. He started picking apart his own breakfast, separating the egg from the beans. He could see Georgie smiling in his peripheral vision. It was late, but the Hairy Hand Special was served all day at his favourite cafe. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘You compartmentalise all your breakfast items so they don’t touch.’

‘Yes,’ he said, although the reason for her amusement eluded him.

‘You have to have every item separated so nothing touches each other and your mushrooms don’t contaminate your hash browns.’

‘And your point is?’

Georgie stuffed a spoonful of black pudding into her mouth and said through chewing, ‘I thought I was the only person in the world who did that.’

He looked at her plate, the mirror of his. Everything had been ordered in roughly the same way. He shrugged and moved the fried tomato towards the edge of the beans. Without looking up he produced the picture they had found of the boy outside the house and placed it on the table in front of her.