‘Tell me.’
‘A s-silver Megan. Y reg.’
‘Now shut the fuck up unless you see it.’
They continued to speed down the outside lane, both of them concentrating on the cars they passed. They overtook three Meganes, including a silver one, but it contained a single occupant, a woman. Heathrow was sixty miles away. Worst case scenario, they would catch Vernon and Jack there. It would be a pain, having to do it in such a public space, but not impossible. He had done such things before, a silent assassin, a pickpocket of lives, a body thief who vanished into the shade leaving madness and bewilderment in the light.
Ten miles down the road, Sampson glanced over and saw that there were tears leaking from the corner of George’s eyes, and he was leaning forward in a strange manner.
‘What is it?’ he snapped.
George just shook his head.
‘Tell me.’
George squeaked, ‘I need to go to the toilet.’
‘Are you going to piss yourself if we don’t stop?’
George nodded and Sampson sighed. He didn’t want the boy leaking all over his leather seats. For fuck’s sake. Looking up, he saw a sign for a turn-off to a service station, and without having time to work out whether he could afford the delay, he followed the signs, screeching into the car park and pulling up beside the building which contained several fast food joints, a shop for essential driving supplies like boiled sweets and porn mags, and the public toilets.
Sampson pulled into a parking bay.
‘Right. Come with me.’
He strode into the building and towards the toilets, George trotting along beside him. This was risky. George could start screaming about being kidnapped at any second. Why hadn’t he just stopped in a lay-by and let the kid piss behind a bush? It was all that stuff about Kate – about loving Kate. It had muddled him, interfered with his decision-making. This was not good. From the look on George’s face, though, he was too frightened to do anything stupid. He’d been trained to do what adults told him. Sampson said, ‘Be quick.’
He waited by the hand drier while George used the low urinal at the end of the row. Sampson tapped his foot, his face down so he didn’t catch anyone’s eye. The boy was taking forever. What the hell was his problem?
Finally, George finished, zipped up and plodded mournfully to the sink to wash his hands. ‘Come on,’ Sampson snapped, and George followed him out.
As they walked past McDonald’s, George, who was feeling hungry despite the twist of dread in his stomach, looked through the window. Sampson, who was watching him, saw his eyes widen.
‘What is it?’
George averted his eyes and shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
But he was clearly lying. ‘Tell me or . . .’ Sampson drew his index finger across his throat and George gulped.
He pointed through the window towards the queue. A bearded man stood with a small boy. The boy who Sampson recognised from the photos on Kate’s phone, didn’t look very happy, and the man appeared deeply irritated. ‘That’s them. That’s Jack and Uncle Vernon.’
Sampson stared at them. So this was the man Kate had married; the man who had impregnated her. And there was their spawn, in the flesh, with a protruding lower lip, waiting in line for a Happy Meal.
‘Follow me,’ Sampson said, striding off towards the exit and out into the car park. After a lull, the rain had started up again, but Sampson didn’t feel it. ‘Help me find their car.’
He lifted George up and, hoisting him on to his shoulders – something George’s dad hadn’t done for years – jogged up and down the rows of cars until George pointed and said, ‘There.’ A silver Megane was positioned at the end of the row. Sampson’s brief elation at the discovery was tempered by the ludicrousness of having a small child’s legs around his neck. He was sorely tempted to chuck George into a nearby hedge.
Instead, he jogged back to the Audi, opened the doors and swung the kid down onto the back seat.
‘When I give you the signal, I want you to hold up the robot. Okay?’
George hesitated.
‘Okay? If you don’t do it, I’ll hurt you.’
The boy pressed together his lips and nodded mutely.
Sampson waited until Vernon and Jack emerged from the building. They were carrying their food, but Jack still didn’t seem particularly cheerful. Sampson started the engine and drove along just ahead of them, circling the car park until he reached the spot where Vernon’s rental car was parked. He waited until Vernon was looking at the car, put his foot on the accelerator and drove into the back of the Megane, smashing the rear left light.
He watched as Vernon gave a shout and broke into a run.
Sampson got out of the car just as Vernon arrived. Jack lagged behind.
‘What in hell are you doing, asshole?’ said Vernon incredulously.
Sampson said, ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident.’
‘Jesus,’ Vernon exclaimed, putting his hands on his head. ‘I’m going to have to explain this to the rental company.’
‘Your rear light is smashed,’ Sampson said. ‘Sorry about that.’
He didn’t sound sorry.
Vernon bent down to check it just as Jack arrived. Sampson gestured at George who held Billy the robot up to the window. Jack saw, and gawped at the sight of his cousin and his beloved toy. At that moment, Sampson put his foot on Vernon’s back and pushed. Vernon sprawled on the wet asphalt, his burger and fries scattering before him, and in one swift motion Sampson swung open the door of his car, swept Jack off his feet and placed him inside, slamming the door.
‘What the . . .?’ Vernon tried to get to his feet but Sampson stamped on the hand he was using to push himself up. Vernon cried out and fell back, rolling over and clutching his hand.
Sampson threw himself into his driver’s seat and told George to get out. George didn’t hesitate – he flung open the door and jumped out, shutting Jack in behind him. Jack stared at George, at Sampson, at his Daddy who was by now on his feet, trying to pull open the door, which Sampson had locked. George was crying and shouting, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Jack hugged Billy while Sampson put his foot on the pedal and screeched away, leaving Vernon gesticulating after him in the rear-view mirror, his face red, his eyes clouded with anger and terror and bewilderment.
‘Who are you?’ Jack asked in a high-pitched terrified voice.
‘My name’s Mr Sampson. I’m a friend of your Mummy’s.’
They sat in the car, outside a petrol station near Doreen’s house, and listened to the CD. Paul found himself getting drowsy just hearing Doreen’s voice again, clear and low, as she conducted the relaxation that had put Kate into her trance.
‘Perhaps we ought to fast-forward this bit, otherwise we might both end up in a trance every time we listen to it, and then you’ll never know what you said,’ he quipped. He knew he sounded half-hearted, though, as if he were forcing himself to make a joke when he didn’t feel at all like it.
‘You’ll have to tell me yourself, then,’ Kate said, clearly too tense to acknowledge the joke. ‘Although I don’t think there’s any chance of that, not the way I’m feeling now. I’m too desperate to know. Shhh, listen, she’s got to the counting backwards bit.’
‘I’m