Ed turned his head and stared out of the back window. As they turned a corner, he moved round slowly, moistening his lips.

“You see him?”

“We’re not blind,” Jay said.

“A cop.”

“We don’t have to worry about English cops,” Jay said. He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” Mac stated flatly.

“Even in this goddamned country it isn’t a crime to drive by night, although maybe you’d think it was, they go to bed so early. Ed” — he maintained the steady monotone — “you’ve got work to do. It should be easy, you have kids of your own. Open that case — give him the case, Jay — and get the kid dressed. We still have an hour. Take it easy. Don’t forget his underpants.” Mac sounded as if that was meant for a joke. “You want to close the door?”

Ed took another glance out of the back window, slammed the door, then began to dress the kidnapped child.

2

ASSIGNMENT

ROGER West lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing heavily, giving a fair imitation of a snore. He heard the door open, and stealthy movements inside the room. He didn’t open his eyes. Rustling sounds followed, and he knew he wouldn’t need to keep up the pretence much longer. Cups chinked as a tray was put on the small table next to the bed on his side, and he opened his eyes and looked through his lashes at the broad face of Martin-called-Scoopy, his elder son, beaming down at him.

“ ‘Morning, Pop!”

“I’ll pop you,” Roger said, gruffly. He struggled up to a sitting position as Richard, his younger son, half a head taller than Martin, entered the bedroom. Both boys had the glow of health in cheeks and eyes, and in that moment something in their expressions made them remarkably alike, although usually they were so different. Your mother’s all right or you wouldn’t be looking so pleased with yourselves. You want something, or you wouldn’t both be here. No.”