She had hope, though. The police would have found her car and figured out what had happened, and then they would see the van leaving on CCTV. They’d find her. She believed they would. She had to believe they would.

And in the meantime, there was the agony.

From the bumps, she assumed they were on a quiet country track. It made sense; why not hide away? Eventually, though, they’d have to go out on the open roads, and then – surely – someone would spot them.

The van slowed to a stop. She heard the front door open and close, and then the panel door slid along its rails and the night air flooded in.

The kidnapper stood, face hidden under the hood, and lifted a hand, thumb up, then down.

It was an enquiry as to whether she was OK.

She shook her head.

‘Doctor,’ she said. ‘I need a doctor.’

The kidnapper bent down and undid the yellow strap that was around her chest then undid the handcuffs and gently moved her right shoulder.

She opened her eyes wide in agony.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Please. Leave it.’

She saw a syringe in the kidnapper’s hand; it was unsheathed and she felt it prick her skin.

Whatever was in the syringe did not take long to work; within minutes she started to feel woozy. The kidnapper unstrapped her and guided her to the panel door of the van.

She looked out. They were on a scruffy piece of wasteland. There was a pond to their right, the surface oily in the moonlight, and an agricultural structure to the left.

Next to the van was an Audi estate.

Had she seen that car before? She thought she had, but her mind was going foggy and she couldn’t place it. It was hard to think. Hard to know.

But what she did know, through the fog of the drug, was that all hope was gone. The police would be looking for the van, which was why they were switching to the Audi.

The boot clicked open and a hand gently pushed her into a sitting position, then tipped her in. She did as she was told, her mind crying out for sleep.

The kidnapper reached behind her and brought out a pillow then tucked it under her head. It was an oddly tender gesture.

Which was her last thought, before she slipped into unconsciousness.

This is not what I wanted, and I am annoyed.

Yes, it has gone well, in the sense that it worked, but everything I do works. I need more than that.

I want it to be perfect.

A work of art. A testament to my genius.

So yes, it went as planned. I took the Golf to the pub, then walked back to the van. They’ll see that leaving on CCTV, but they’ll never find it, and if they do, so what? We’re in the Audi.