‘Bastards!’ she yelled. The lights ahead were turning red. She held the horn down again and pulled the car into the middle of the road, passing the waiting line of traffic. There was a no-right-turn sign, so she threw the car to the right just as the other traffic was responding to the green light. Hepton looked out of his side window and saw a motorbike messenger heading straight for him. On Jilly’s side, a white van was already braking, but too late. The front of the van hit Jilly’s door, sending the sports car scudding sideways, where it collided with the bike. The driver was thrown clear, rolling like a pro. Another day in the city. Jilly tried to keep the MG moving, but her front driver-side wheel had buckled. The car protested, growling meanly.

‘Last stop,’ she said, face pale. The Cavalier was manoeuvring slowly, gingerly past the stalled traffic. Drivers were opening their doors to take a look at the mad bastards who had caused the accident.

‘You ought to be fucking well locked up!’ the van driver screeched. The bike courier, however, was casually examining some scuffs to his leathers, uninjured himself. Jilly got out of the car. So did Hepton. The Cavalier stopped beside them. Hepton’s hand went into his pocket and found the knife he had taken from the kitchen.

‘We could run for it,’ Jilly said, but her legs were shaking wildly.

The doors of the Cavalier opened and the two men got out. Hepton recognised one of them. It was Sanders, the man from the Foreign Office. Sanders turned to his partner.

‘You better stay here, Clive.’ He surveyed the chaos. ‘Try to clear this up with the police when they arrive.’ Then he nodded in Hepton’s direction. ‘I’ll take these two back with me in the car.’

The other man nodded slowly, not looking at all happy with his allotted task, but unable or unwilling to protest.

‘Where are we going?’ Hepton asked as he and Jilly walked to the car. His grip on the knife relaxed.

‘I’m getting you out of this,’ Sanders said, indicating the scene around them. He was shaking too, obviously not used to car chases and crashes. ‘I would have thought that was reason enough for you to be grateful.’

‘It is,’ said Jilly. Even her lips had gone white with shock.

‘How did you find us?’ Hepton asked.

Sanders shrugged. ‘I used a bit of initiative. Besides, what other leads did I have? All I knew about you, Mr Hepton, was that you had a friend in London called Jilly Watson who worked on the Herald. It wasn’t too difficult to find out where Miss Watson lived. Then when I saw you racing away from the scene like that …’