“I thought you wanted—”

“No, this is fine.” We were approaching an area of low, recently built industrial buildings. “Listen,” I said, holding up the last of my money, “give me the petrol can you keep in the back of the car. I’ve broken down nearby, and I’m in a hurry.”

He agreed, and we went around to the boot of the car. He gave me the can and I wrapped it in a black plastic bag. I picked it up and headed for a pub I’d noticed. There, I had a couple of drinks and went into the toilet. I locked the cubicle door and stripped.

It took some time and I was careful and thorough. When I’d finished, and got back into my clothes, I left the pub and ran through the bleak streets toward the building, or “hospital,” I remembered. Soon, I was disoriented, but the address was right. The layout of the streets and the other buildings was the same. Then I saw it. The place had changed. It could have been years ago that I was there. The building I believed to be the “hospital” was encircled by barbed wire; grass was poking up through the concrete. In the front, an abandoned filing cabinet was lying on its side. What sort of elaborate disguise was this?

I climbed the fence and pushed my way through the wire, which had been severed in several places. Nobody seemed bothered about security. The front door of the “hospital” wasn’t even locked. However, it was getting dark. I tried the lights, but the electricity had been turned off. Bums had probably been sleeping there on rotten mattresses. The place also seemed to have been vandalized by local kids. I guessed that everything important had been taken away long before that. There were no bodies around, neither new nor old. I didn’t know what to do now but there was no reason to stay.

I heard a voice.

8

“WE WEREN’T too bothered about capturing you earlier. We guessed you’d end up here.”

Matte emerged from the gloom. A torch was shining in my face. I covered my eyes.

I asked, “You always knew about this place?”

“I knew the caravan would have moved on, but figured out you’d be less well connected than me. I still need that body.”

“Looks like I’m going to need it myself.”

“You’ve argued yourself out of it. Someone else’s need is greater.”

“Your brother?”

“What? Let me worry about him.”

I said, “You can take the body. There’s a lot of life still in it. All I want is the old one back.”

“Come through here.” He pointed to the door, and added, “This place smells bad, or is it just you?”

“It’s the place, too.”

He said, “Jesus, what the fuck have they been doing, burning bodies?”