As a young woman, she would have been tingling with excitement at this point. Sat next to her father and off to their special place, the hangar still held so many beautiful memories and secrets. It was an extraordinary piece of architecture, a cleverly designed building, built by a genius – Izzy Ezra. Still, it was hers, with all its secrets.

She could see the entrance to the hangar up ahead. The most important night of her life was about to begin: there was no going back now.

When she’d visited the building a few days before, she discovered that her brother had sold her father’s favourite plane. However, Ismail hadn’t known about a very important piece of engineering inside the building itself. Only a select few knew, including Staffie, Willie, Lou, and her cousin.

As she approached the private lane that ran past the hangar, she turned her headlights off. Zara could drive along that lane with her eyes shut, she knew it so well. As soon as she was halfway, she stopped the car, pulled out her binoculars, and watched, but there was no sign of any activity, not even a light from a phone screen or a cigarette. Good. She would just wait awhile and monitor the situation.

***

After the disturbing phone call, Conrad rushed into his car and headed straight to his sister’s place. The last few weeks had been exhausting, and now that phone call; he just hoped it wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. He frowned when he arrived. Rebecca’s car wasn’t in the drive. ‘What’s she bloody well playing at?’ he mumbled under his breath. Still, he parked in the street, walked up the drive, and was about to knock when the door opened.

She didn’t welcome him in but turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.

Conrad followed. ‘Right, what’s going on?’

‘Coffee, Conrad, or something stronger?’

‘Coffee’s fine, so do you want to tell me what all this is about, or do I have to play guessing games?’

She handed him a coffee and gestured for him to take a seat at the breakfast bar. ‘Oh, Conrad, where do I start? There is something very strange going on. Alastair . . . ’

Conrad’s phone rang. It was Lowry. ‘Sorry, Rebecca, it’s work.’

She tutted. ‘For God’s sake, can’t you listen to me for five minutes? This is much more important than bloody work.’

The harsh and firm pitch to her voice made Conrad look up. ‘Sorry, you’re right, of course.’ He cancelled the connection, feeling rather guilty.

‘Yes, it’s Alastair. I think . . . ’

Conrad’s phone rang again.

‘Turn the bloody thing off for a minute, will you?’