Life on Mars: Blood, Bullets and Blue Stratos. Tom Graham

      ‘What were you expecting? T-shirts with “Bugger the British” printed across ’em?’

      Together, the Deerys hauled a heavily taped-up package from the house and stowed it in the boot of the Cresta.

      ‘What do you reckon that is, Guv?’

      ‘It’s not meals on wheels, Sammy-boy, I’ll put money on that,’ muttered Gene.

      The Deerys glanced about, got into their car, and reversed out into the road. Gene chucked his paper into the back seat and started the Cortina.

      ‘Don’t make it obvious we’re tailing them,’ said Sam. ‘Keep it low-key.’

      ‘Is that the way it’s done, is it? Oh, thank you for informing me, Samuel, I was just about to put the blue light on and start beeping me horn.’

      ‘I just meant-’

      ‘I know what you meant, Doxon of Dick Green. Now zip your cakehole and let me drive.’

      They followed the Deerys out of Dowell Road and soon found themselves heading west. Gene trailed them from a distance, at times allowing cars to get between the Cresta and the Cortina, but he never lost sight of them. Once, he jumped a red light to ensure that he didn’t lag behind, and, when a man in a sporty MG blared his horn and yelled at him to watch where he was bloody going, Gene replied with a one-handed gesture.

      ‘We’re heading out of town,’ said Sam.

      ‘Open country – moorland – somewhere deserted away from prying eyes,’ growled Gene. ‘It’s a handover, Sammy, you mark my words.’

      ‘But not necessarily a handover with the IRA.’

      ‘You just won’t drop it, will you, Tyler?’

      ‘As a police officer, I’m obliged to inform my superior officer of my feelings about a given case,’ said Sam.

      Gene shot him a sideways glance. ‘You can’t half be an uptight little twonk, Samuel.’

      They were leaving the grey suburbs of the city and approaching a desolate, flat landscape of drab grass and wind-flattened trees.

      ‘There are fewer cars on the road,’ warned Sam. ‘If we’re going to be spotted it’ll be out here. Ease off, Gene.’

      ‘And risk losing them? No way.’

      ‘We’ll lose them anyway if they realize we’re following them.’