She shakes her head slowly. The device suddenly feels even tighter. Is it a tag of some sort? Like offenders wear under curfew? A tracking device?

‘How was Rob?’ Ajay asks, determinedly changing the subject.

‘OK,’ she says, one hand still on the neckband.

‘He sounded himself, though?’ Ajay looks up at her, waiting for her answer.

‘I think so.’

In truth, she no longer knows.

‘I’ve got some exercises for you to do in France,’ he adds, passing her a piece of paper. His back is towards the door and the camera. She looks at him for a second and then she glances at what he’s written. One word, underlined.

Run.

84

Jake

Jake stands at the train doors, waiting for them to open. Bex is behind him, surrounded by commuters. It’s a long time since he’s been on an early train to London. And he remembers now why he gave up commuting. The train was delayed and overcrowded. They were lucky to get a seat.

‘I need a coffee,’ Bex says as they step onto the platform at Paddington.

‘Me too,’ Jake says.

They eventually got back to Bex’s house at 3 a.m., sitting in the cab of an RAC recovery vehicle. After snatching a couple of hours’ sleep, they dropped Stretch off with a neighbour and caught the first train of the day. Jake wanted to leave the Tesla on the motorway hard shoulder and walk home – it would have only taken a couple of hours – but Bex felt more responsibility for the vehicle, despite it refusing to move another inch. There was also Stretch to think about.

Jake is sure Rob remotely disabled the car, which worries him, makes it even more important that they get to London as soon as possible, check that Kate’s OK.

They grab a coffee on the station concourse and take the Underground to Old Street. Jake hasn’t been in London for a while – he hasn’t been able to afford it – and the sheer volume of commuters on the Tube makes him yearn for the wide-open spaces of Wiltshire. The only wildlife on offer is a rat that he sees scuttling beneath the blackened Tube tracks at King’s Cross.

It’s a five-minute walk from Old Street to Nile Street, which seems to be one big building site. Almost every property is being restored, shrouded in scaffolding and plastic sheeting. Workmen in hard hats and high-vis jackets are everywhere, stopping pedestrians as diggers reverse and lorries arrive. The postcode Jake took down from the Tesla’s satnav is for the whole of the street, but Bex thinks she knows where Rob lives.

‘Kate mentioned once it was in a renovated factory of some sort,’ she says as they walk down the narrow road, looking up at the tall anonymous buildings on either side. Jake can hear the anxiety in her voice. They are both nervous, worried for Kate.