‘You could always continue on down to London,’ Ben told him. ‘Pick up your money bag at Heathrow and jump on another flight to Spain.’

Wolf laughed. ‘Screw that. You won’t get rid of me just yet.’

Chapter 51

They disembarked from the plane in grey, cloudy Birmingham and made their way through the drizzle to the nearest car hire outlet. Ben had a long and painful history with the rental companies, who one by one had all blacklisted him merely because he seldom returned their vehicles to them in one piece, or at all. Rather than argue against their petty tyranny, he was content to let Wolf fill out the rental agreement in the name Jack Cullen. Wolf’s fake driving licence was one of the best forgeries Ben had ever seen.

They picked out the most nondescript car in the lot, a drab-grey Skoda estate that nobody on the planet would look at twice. Wolf took the wheel and Ben set the sat nav on a course for Hanbury, twenty-six miles from the airport. The motorway carried them on a dogleg route, south and then west, after which they stopped off at a services for fuel, sandwiches, two big rolls of gaffer tape and a couple of additional purchases from a Carphone Warehouse. Leaving the motorway they switched southwards again on A and B roads. By the time they reached the Worcestershire village, the rain had stopped and the sunshine was peeking through a blue opening in the clouds. The time was just before three, leaving them over half an hour before Annie Dudley’s funeral service was due to begin.

The Church of St Mary the Virgin stood alone on open ground a mile outside the village, at the end of a single-track road overhung and shaded by tree canopy. A low wrought-iron rail fence surrounded the church property and there were two small car parks to the front and the side. Nobody had yet turned up. The only vehicle was a white van with a grounds maintenance company logo.

‘Where to?’ Wolf asked.

‘Right here,’ Ben said, pointing. Nobody knew their faces, or would take notice of two guys sitting in the world’s most boring car. Wolf slotted the Skoda into the empty space next to the groundskeeper’s van and killed the engine. Ben wound down his window and lit a Gauloise. He was running out. Wolf grabbed the sandwiches, ripped both packs open and offered one to Ben. Ben shook his head. ‘Not hungry.’

‘Eat when you can, sleep when you can. That’s the rule.’

‘I’m not sleepy either.’

‘Just want to suck on those cancer sticks.’

‘Yup.’

‘Been a while since I’ve been on stakeout like this.’ Wolf munched into his sandwich, then smiled to himself. ‘Hey, remember that time in Manchester when those silly shitheads tried to break into our van?’