“Straight through the next three roundabouts will take us to the M1,” said Ruthie, her voice calming somewhat. “Then we can get up some speed and get away from those . . . Germans.”

“I think they’ll be able to go a little faster than this old thing,” said Patton. “No offense, Ruthie dear, but it’s not exactly a race car.”

“Besides,” said Nemo, easing off the accelerator, “outrunning them wouldn’t be very sporting.”

“What do you mean?” said Ruthie. “You want a couple of killers to catch us? If you want them to shoot us, what was all that cloak-and-dagger show back at Bletchley?”

“I don’t want them to catch us,” said Nemo. “I want us to catch them.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” said Patton.

“Have I steered you wrong so far?” said Nemo. “Look, that was definitely Fritz and Franz, and they came through the same airport we did. I don’t imagine they wanted to check in to a flight with a murder weapon in their bag.”

“A murder weapon?” said Ruthie. “You said they weren’t very good.”

“Fucking bastards,” said Patton. “They shot Art Handy—he’s a sheriff’s deputy and—”

“The point is,” said Nemo, “they’re almost certainly unarmed at the moment. If they had any weapons, they would have drawn them when they saw the gate opening. And we have two deadly weapons.”

“We do?” said Ruthie.

“Yes,” said Nemo. “A Mini Cooper and chutzpah.” He shot Patton a look that said, Take care of the girl in the back seat, and she nodded ever so slightly as a pair of headlights appeared behind them.

“It’ll be OK, Ruthie,” said Patton, reaching a hand behind her seat and finding Ruthie’s knee. “He knows what he’s doing.” Ruthie grabbed Patton’s hand and held it so tightly she winced, but Patton went on. “Their job is not to hurt anybody else—it’s to find the Enigma message. So we let them follow us, and once we’ve gotten to wherever this machine is and finished the decrypt, we give them the message, they’ll be on their way, and nobody gets hurt.”

“OK,” said Ruthie, a hint of panic still in her voice.

“That is the plan, right?” said Patton to Nemo.

“Yeah,” he said, “something like that.”

Nemo drove right past the M1 and into the countryside on narrower and narrower roads, always making sure he kept the headlights visible in the rearview mirror.

“We’re not driving toward the Enigma,” said Ruthie, when they had veered onto a wooded lane so narrow it had pull-offs every hundred yards or so for passing vehicles.

“What are you doing?” said Patton in a low voice. Ruthie was still squeezing her hand and her fingers had gone numb.

“Trust me,” said Nemo as the car behind pulled closer. “Is everyone buckled up?”