Page 35 of We Chase Shadows

This prompted a quick sidebar, where Rosie had asked whether, were Steve to have a serious car accident, his first thought would really be about the traffic building up behind it, and Steve had said that of course it would be, as no one likes to be a nuisance. Particularly in rush hour.

So Rosie had grabbed hold of Steve’s phone – leaning across him, Steve might note, another absolute no-no in any form of driving, let alone motorway driving – and taken the call.

Tony Taylor. In a bed at Southampton General, beaten unconscious by a thug sent by Jakob Eriksson.

Not sent by Tommy Griffin, not sent by Georgie Glazier.

After the briefest, the very, very briefest question about parking charges, Steve had driven at close to a 100 mph all the way back to the New Forest, often on the wrong side of the road. He could have sworn at one point that even Rosie gripped on to her door handle. Careful what you wish for, Rosie.

That’s how, and why, Steve had made the drive from Rickmansworth to Southampton in fifty-four minutes.

‘Got mixed up,’ says Steve. ‘That’s all. We actually left Rickmansworth at 3.19.’

Tony looks at him. ‘Well, that would give you an average speed of 39 miles an hour. On a motorway?’

‘I suppose so,’ says Steve.

‘Driving too slowly on a motorway can be as dangerous as speeding,’ says Tony. ‘I’ve shown you studies.’

This is true, he has. The two of them have had lunch together virtually every day for five years, and you cover an awful lot of ground in that time.

‘We stopped,’ says Steve. ‘At the services. I wanted a pie.’

‘An afternoon pie?’ Tony asks. ‘I’ve never seen you eat a pie between 3 p.m. and 6 p.m.’

‘I missed lunch, because I was doing murder investigating,’ says Steve. He anticipates the next question. ‘We stopped for twenty-one minutes.’

He sees Tony doing some maths in his head. The only maths Steve has ever seen Tony do is ‘journey-time maths’ and ‘darts maths’.

Eventually Tony nods his satisfaction. ‘Forty-nine miles an hour. Factor in build-up around Rickmansworth and Southampton and I’m happy. Sorry I doubted you, Steve.’

‘It’s okay,’ says Steve. ‘You’ve had a bump on the head.’

Tony knows Steve drove like a maniac to get here, and Steve knows that Tony knows. But now they will never have to say that out loud.

There are, Steve thinks once again, lots of reasons for lying.

‘Are the two of you done?’ Felicity asks. She sounds stern, but she can see just as well as Steve how much more Tony looks like the old Tony now he’s been thinking about traffic build-up. ‘Any other leads?’

‘I’ve had a couple of messages from Ernesto,’ says Rosie. ‘He’s our Interpol contact.’

‘What did they say?’ asks Felicity.

‘Haven’t opened them yet,’ says Rosie. ‘In our rush to get here.’

‘But we weren’t rushing, because we stopped at the services,’ says Steve.

‘For a pie,’ agrees Tony, and the two men give each other a thumbs-up.

‘How’s Amy’s getting on?’ Tony asks.

Steve sees Rosie scrolling through her phone.

‘Making friends with bodyguards,’ says Steve. ‘Dug up a body too.’

‘Don’t you ever worry about Amy with men?’ says Felicity.

‘With men?’