27

It stank like a derelict house down there in the footwell. The rubber mats had worn through to bare metal, and there was a thick coating of sand.

Dex gave us a running commentary from the driver’s seat. If the shit hit the fan we needed to know exactly what was happening and where. ‘That’s us about to go into the tunnel.’ Everything went dark. Strip-lights flickered. ‘Coming out.’

All I could see was skyscrapers that blocked out the stars.

‘Approaching traffic-lights . . . looks like they’re going to be red . . .’ He sounded like a bad ventriloquist. He didn’t want other drivers to see him talking to himself.

‘That’s all the traffic in front slowing . . . slowing . . . lights are red. There’s a very nice Maserati down there, with a very beautiful woman . . . short skirt, lads . . . I can’t believe it, she’s not even looking up at me . . .’

‘Show her a picture of your castle, son.’

‘Lights changing, lights to green . . .’

The Tata shuddered before we moved on.

‘Nearly there, chaps.’

My right leg was cramping up. I had to get it straight. ‘Red – got to move, mate.’

He wasn’t impressed. ‘For fuck’s sake.’ I was treated to a cloud of cigarette breath.

My face ended up just a couple of centimetres from Dex’s flip-flops as he worked the pedals. They’d come from a skip as well.

He rumbled along, not speeding, but bumping around to keep his place in the freeway chaos.

I got cramp again. If a job kicks off well, the rest of it seems to flow. If it judders out of the blocks, it often turns into a nightmare.

‘Two hundred to go before our first stop.’

Air rushed through the open window and I caught a glimpse of streetlights. There was a bump and then darkness, like someone had thrown a switch.

‘Let’s see who’s with us, shall we?’ Dex checked the vehicles that had no choice now but to pass us. ‘So far, so good, chaps. No Toyota or Mazda, no one turning off, staking out, or even giving us a second look.’

The Tata shook itself like a wet dog and moved forward once more.

‘“Swing, swing to-ge-ther . . . With your bo-dies be-tween your knees . . .”’

For the next ten minutes we had to put up with his favourite chorus in between snatches of commentary.

‘Here we go, up the kerb.’

We’d reached our final stop and check. We bumped up onto the rough ground surrounding the target. The sky went dark and we came to a halt. The engine ticked over as Dex let the traffic zoom past.

‘No vehicles that came past last time.’ He gave it another thirty seconds. ‘That’s it, we’re clear. No one following and I have no movement or light on target.’ He killed the headlights.