“Waiting for customs. Now would be good.”

“Okay.” Milton heard the sound of Ziggy’s fingers tapping on a keyboard. “Here we go. Now.”

Nothing obvious happened, and Milton wondered whether what Ziggy had planned had had any effect whatsoever. If it did not, Milton was concerned that he would find himself in a spot of bother that might be difficult to remove himself from.

“Nothing’s happening,” he said into the phone.

The official came up to the car in front of Milton and indicated that the driver should wind down her window. There followed a quick conversation, and then the official skirted the car, looking into the windows as he made his way around it.

“Ziggy…”

The official completed his circuit and indicated that a detailed search would be unnecessary and that the driver could go about her journey.

“Got to be now.”

“Wait.” Ziggy’s voice was a little tense. “It’s been received. It’s decompressing.”

The official gestured that Milton should drive forward. Milton put the call on mute and did as he was told. The official gestured that he should wind down the window.

“Afternoon,” Milton said.

“Hello, sir,” the man said. “How are you?”

“I’m very good, thank you.”

“Passport, please.”

Milton handed the fake document to the man.

“What’s the purpose of your trip?”

“Pleasure,” Milton said. “I’m visiting friends.”

“Where will you be staying?”

“Manchester.”

“Do you have anything to declare?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“You don’t believe so? Yes or no, sir. Anything to declare?”

Milton shook his head and smiled in apology. “No. Nothing.”

“Wait there, please.”

The man started a circuit of the car. Milton watched his progress in the mirrors as he unmuted the phone. “Ziggy?”

“It hasn’t done anything?”

“Nothing,” Milton said quietly.

The official returned to the window. “I’m going to ask you to drive the car over there, sir,” he said, pointing to the shed.

“Is that necessary?”

“Just a check. Won’t take long.”

Milton was about to remonstrate when he saw the man glance down at his tablet. He frowned, tapped the screen once and then twice, and turned to a female colleague who was administering the queue of traffic to Milton’s left. The woman was also struggling with her tablet.

“It’s gone down,” she called over.

The man stabbed his finger against the screen. “Me too.”