Ben tried to tighten his focus so that all that existed was the road speeding towards him. But every mile they streaked closer to their destination was an agony of waiting and creeping doubts. Even worse was the growing certainty in his mind that, whether Saunders rumbled the deception or not, he wouldn’t just pull his men off Grace, and that this was not going to end well whichever way things went.

The more the tension and fear ramped up inside his head, the faster he drove. He blew through four speed traps, but he didn’t care. Nothing short of a full-on police roadblock would slow him down, and even then they’d have a hard time doing it.

After an hour Wolf said, ‘You’re awful quiet.’

‘It’s because I’m scared, Jaden.’

Wolf said, ‘Hold onto it, Ben. Use it. In my experience, it’s when guys like us are scared that we’re at our most dangerous. You put a tiger in a corner, you’re gonna get your arse mauled.’

‘Or a wolf,’ Ben said.

Wolf smiled his nasty smile. ‘Most dangerous of all. They should never have fucked with us, my friend.’

It was 11.48 a.m. when they reached Pyecombe. Ben’s crazy-fast driving had shaved a few precious minutes off his ETA, and he could only pray that they weren’t too late. Wolf guided him along the rambling country lanes that led from the edge of the village to where Abbott lived. The large country house was over a mile away, with a couple of acres of garden surrounded by a high wall. It was an impressive traditional property with leaded windows, tall chimneys and lots of mature ivy growing over the walls. There were no neighbouring properties in sight, no prying eyes behind twitching curtains whose owners might be inclined to dial 999 in the event of suspicious goings on. The perfect spot for an assassination.

Ben did a pass of the house, slowing down a little to peer inside the gates. ‘Everything looks normal enough,’ Wolf said. ‘You never know. We might get lucky.’

‘How well do you know the place?’

‘Down to the last inch,’ Wolf said. ‘I was given plans of the whole layout.’

‘It’s a country area. Does he have a dog?’ A middle-class Labrador or Retriever was no German shepherd, but could still make life interesting for intruders.

‘Not so much as a Chihuahua,’ Wolf said. ‘I was glad about that. Wouldn’t have wanted to hurt a dog.’