I looked up and saw a haze of soft light rising up out of the darkness. I was nearing the brow of a hill and could tell from the intermittent swish of tyres on damp road that I was only a couple of minutes away from the motorway. I slowed my pace, controlling my breathing. I was fit and strong and had always pushed myself to the limit on the training courses and physical fitness sessions that were mandatory for intelligence analysts and field agents alike. I could keep going long past the point when my muscles screamed and my heart felt like it was going to explode inside my chest. But now I needed to conserve some energy and at least take stock of my situation. I stopped just before the brow of the hill, checking myself over for any cuts or fractures that had not yet made themselves known. My hand was bleeding and there was a tender place behind my left ear but it was mostly just grazes and bruises. I was soaked through. My coat was filthy with mud and dirty water. By some miracle the wig was still in place so I snatched it off and tucked it into the sleeve of my coat, unsure whether the man from the train knew me better by one appearance than the other.

I rummaged in my pockets. Felt the lighter, cold in my palm. It had been pure instinct to snatch it up. I’d left my bag on the train but it contained nothing much of any worth. My purse was in my pocket so I knew I had a little cash. I found a couple of boiled sweets in an inside pocket and sucked on the sticky flavour gratefully, making my way towards the lip of the hill. It was a dual carriageway, busy even at this hour. A few hundred yards down the road were the lights of a service station, the forecourt empty and a phone box standing sentry at the side of a brick outbuilding.