He came towards us and John waited until the last minute before nudging me out of the way and swinging with the pipe. He swung it hard but Pelletier moved as if the blow was delivered in slow motion. His feet stayed where they were but he swayed back like a ballet dancer. He shot out his arm and caught John a crack on the elbow and the pipe clattered away to the ground. Pelletier kicked John’s legs out from under him, catching him before he fell and lowering him to the ground like they were dancing. I just stood there, too shocked to move, holding my own pipe out in front of me like it was a church candle. When Pelletier turned he put out his hand and I handed over the makeshift weapon without a word. He shook his head at the pair of us and then walked past me and out of the room. I heard the key turn.

‘John,’ I said, my hand on his cheek. ‘John, what were you thinking, you daft …’

He grinned. It showed the blood on his teeth and I could see that every bit of him was hurting. But he looked like something had just gone right.

He held up his hands. Spread his fingers and showed his empty palms. ‘In his pocket,’ he said, and started coughing. ‘I reckon that’ll be just about close enough to start transmitting. Just sit tight now. Somebody will pick it up.’

I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what to do. So I took the flask and unscrewed the lid and hoped to God that a cup of tea really did have magical properties.

I could have burst into tears when I poured myself a cupful and realized he’d brought coffee.

CORDELIA

I was ten miles from home when I knew for sure I was being followed. Whoever was behind me had picked the wrong car for the job. They had big white lights that stood out like pearls against a black velvet dress. It was too loud for the stillness of the landscape too: a throaty rumble that betrayed the power beneath the bonnet. It was a big car with an engine far grander than mine but the driver kept hanging back, staying in the shadows or lingering just behind the curve in the road, deliberately refusing to catch up or overtake. I’d been on the vehicular surveillance courses and recognized the techniques. I’d utilized them myself plenty of times, though the dark country roads between Carlisle and Gilsland were a true nightmare for any agent trying not to be spotted. I’d turned off to take the country roads that snaked through the fields beside the railway line and the darkness was absolute.