THEY BOTH SLIPPED INTO the car and belted up. Rafferty turned to Llewellyn. You’ve made a plan of the route of those we’re to see first?’ he asked.
‘Of course. I thought we’d start with Ms Swinburn, go on to Ms Nicholson, and then we’d cross the river at Battersea and go on to see Mr and Mrs Aitcheson.’
Mr and Mrs Aitcheson lived in leafy St John’s Wood. As wealthy anti-Agit- Proppers, they of course lived north of the river, among the luvvies, and the rich businessmen, even richer Arabs, and money-coming-out-of-their-ears Russian oligarchs.
‘Say when you want a break from driving, and I’ll take over.’
‘Really, I’ll be fine. There’ll probably be more sitting in traffic-jams than actual driving.’
Rafferty grinned on the side of his face that was nearest the passenger window. He knew Ll
