When he got there, he found the wood-burner already coming to life, the stovetop kettle whistling on the range, and Grace on the phone to the police headquarters, putting on a convincingly croaky and weak voice to spin them a story about having come down with a sudden case of flu. She was a fast worker, that was for sure. Finishing the call she said in her normal voice, ‘That’ll buy me a couple of days. I’m making a cup of tea. Want some?’

Ben pulled a face at the idea, and went into the kitchen to grab the jar of instant coffee. Two empty mugs stood on the kitchen counter with teabags in them. He fished one of the offensive items out, dumped three heaped spoonfuls of coffee in its place and poured the water in from the kettle. Grace joined him at the counter, and stood next to him to perform the milk-and-sugar ritual. Her shoulder brushed his arm as she stirred her tea with a clinking spoon. Her presence so close by felt comfortable to him. He could smell her perfume and a whiff of some kind of scented soap. He suddenly realised that this little moment was the closest thing to domestic cohabitation with a member of the opposite sex that he’d experienced since splitting up with his fiancée, Brooke, a long time ago. It was a strange feeling.

But the moment was soon over. They carried their drinks back into the cottage’s living room and Ben tossed a couple more logs on the wood-burner before taking out his phone. Grace perched on the edge of an armchair, sipping her tea. ‘Are you calling the person you reckon can help us?’

‘No, I’m calling a guy called Chimp Chalmers.’

‘Who the hell is Chimp Chalmers? What kind of name is that, anyway?’

‘He used to be in British Special Forces. Now he lives in the Czech Republic.’

‘Doing what?’

‘He sells stuff. Anything from an ex-Soviet tank or attack helicopter to a Scud missile, delivered to the location of your choice, anywhere in the world, for the right fee.’

Grace cocked an eyebrow. ‘I see. We’re buying a tank now?’

‘No, we’re asking a favour. Chimp has connections everywhere. I’m hoping he can help us.’

Ben dialled the number from memory. After seven rings Chimp’s familiar voice came on the line. He was called Chimp because he was built like an ape, long arms, barrel chest, bandy legs and all. He sounded like one, too. The hoarse grunt said, ‘Who’s this?’

‘Hello, Chimp.’

‘Well, fuck me if it ain’t my old chum Ben Hope. I heard you were six feet under, pushing up daisies.’

‘That’ll teach you to believe rumours. I need something from you.’