“I’ve got this under control,” River said, cutting across both lanes, much to the anguish of his tyres, other road users and local wildlife. Louisa was busy watching her life unspool on her eyelids, and had just reached the part where the Spice Girls split when she was aware of a sharp turn as they departed the A40, a softer exit than departing this life would have been had River made his manoeuvre half a second earlier or later, courtesy of, respectively, a Tesco delivery lorry and an airport coach. The car took another steep curve and hit a straight River maintained for about seven heartbeats before peeling right then left with barely a pause between. There was a bump from beneath the car Louisa hoped was nothing organic, and the road surface became a rough crustiness.
Then everything stopped.
She opened her eyes to find they’d ploughed through an open gate into a field, the car now obscured from the road by a hedge, the way cartoon mobsters might evade pursuing police. She looked at River, who interpreted this as admiration. “That went well.”
The world outside had gone quiet. Possibly it was faking its own death. Louisa loosened her grip on the door handle, surprised it didn’t come off in her hand. “Where are we?”
“Oxford’s that way.” He indicated the rear of the car, though Louisa was sure they’d come through 180 degrees since leaving the main road. “Anyway, we’ve lost them. The Dogs.”
“Great. If they didn’t know who we are, and didn’t currently have possession of my car, you could argue we’ve got away.”
“Okay, fine. We’ll have explaining to do. But we can get on with finding Sid.”
Rattled, she wound her window down, and was struck by the feeling city dwellers get when they’re somewhere apparently remote: that she was supposed to like this kind of thing, the smell of grass and the buzz of insects. Even the background motorway hum had a country feel to it, traffic unaccompanied by drum or bass.
River said, “Sorry about your car. We’ll collect it tomorrow. After I’ve found out who sent Sid to that safe house. Though I can guess.”
“Taverner.”
“Who else? Last time Sid got caught up in one of her webs—yeah, we both know what happened.” He started the engine. “She’d better not be up to fun and games again, that’s all. Let’s go.” A large black SUV pulled into the field, blocking their exit. “Fuck.”
The Dogs emerged from their vehicle with a macho swagger they’d spent hours perfecting back at the Park. Both wore dark jeans, dark jackets; both, Louisa thought, would have pull strings in their backs.
To River, she said, “Let’s take this as gently as possible, yeah?”
“They’ve got no authority here.”
“They don’t need authority, River. They’re pissed off.”
“So am—”
“Stay in the car.”
She got out, wishing she had more than the trainers on her feet. A couple of hand grenades, for instance, would have been nice. “Good afternoon,” she said.
“Tell that fucker to get out here.”
“Yes, my friend—who’s a civilian, by the way—he’s sorry about what happened back there. He’s just had some bad news. He’s still processing it. So you can’t blame him for overreacting.”
“Nobody’s blaming anyone for anything,” said the older Dog. “It’s just that some of us are going to put the rest of us on the ground.”
“I can tell you’re upset. But before this gets out of hand, could you please call the Park? They’ll tell you, this is all a misunderstanding.”
“Can’t get a signal,” the younger Dog said.
His phone rang.
“Can’t hear a fucking thing, either. Being punched in the face does that to you.”
River was getting out of the car now too. One day she’d suggest a course of action, he’d take her advice, and then they’d both sprout wings or something. Meanwhile they were in a field with a couple of trained thugs he’d recently sucker-punched, and she doubted they’d remember she’d been otherwise occupied at the time. Or it wouldn’t matter. Men didn’t like women seeing them bested in a fight.
The younger one tucked his phone away. “You want to try that again?” he said to River. “This time while I’m ready?”
River looked at the older Dog. “Fair warning. If he starts singing ‘I’m Just Ken,’ this’ll get ugly.”
“You’re very funny. Let me guess what you do for an encore. Spit teeth?”
“Jesus Christ!” said Louisa. She looked at River. “This is a good use of your time? I thought you were worried about Sid.” And then at the Dogs. “And you two, what the actual fuck? You’re supposed to be upholding, I dunno, law and order? Maintaining standards of conduct among Park operatives? Because you’re not exactly an advert for the Service, are you? Getting ready to beat up a civilian because he got a lucky punch in.”
“She wasn’t paying attention,” said River. “Or she’d know that was a class uppercut.”
