Only it was different.

He smiled.

What an idiot he was.

When he had seen the face before, it had been upside down. Hanging from the roof of the car.

The bald crown had been its chin. Sam had been looking for a mouth where the forehead was.

Now that it was the right way up he could see that it was a boy’s face. Black with dirt, eyes wide, small sharp teeth very white. There was a shock of dark, tangled hair sprouting from the top. The hair that Sam had thought was a beard when he had first seen it upside down outside the car.

The face grinned and then its owner raised a fist and gave a thumbs-up. The flame snapped off. A few seconds later there was a familiar dull thud and the sound of falling glass, tinkling onto the metal floor.

“If you hear the butchers, yell.” It was the quietest whisper in the world.

Then silence.

Sam counted the seconds in his head. It was all he could think of to fill the time and ease the tension that was growing inside him like a balloon inflating.

He got up to sixty-five before the flame flickered back on. Startlingly close. Sam jerked back in fright. The boy had climbed through the window and come down into the car without them hearing or seeing anything. The flame was lit just long enough for them to get a proper look at him. He was about Sam’s size, skinny and wiry looking, wearing shorts, sneakers, and a woman’s leather jacket with the sleeves cut off halfway. He had a leather backpack slung over one shoulder, and he was carrying a cigarette lighter and a blanket.

He flicked the lighter and the flame died.

“Not safe,” he whispered. “If the butchers see the light, they’ll come running, mark my words.”

“Who are you?” said Sam.

“Stay quiet,” the boy hissed. “You’re getting out of here pronto.”

Sam felt the boy’s hands groping along his arms to the handcuffs.

“Handy-cuffs,” he breathed in Sam’s ear. “Soon have these bracelets off. No more than a jiffy.”

There was rattling and scraping as the boy poked around in the lock with some kind of tool. Then, finally, a snap and rattle and the cuffs came loose.

Sam now felt the boy slip the lighter into his hands.

“Light me, skipper,” he said. “The Kid needs to see his surroundings.”

Sam rolled the flint on the lighter, and the flame jumped and sparked. The boy was already at the end of the car, holding the blanket across the whole width.

“There’s sticky-tape on my utility bat belt,” he said, nodding downward.