The Fiesta swerved and skid-turned through side streets into Grove Lane, almost toppling onto its side as it rounded the last corner. Not troubling to park anywhere close to the curb, Sant hurried through the loose-swinging gate and banged on the door.
Then he called out: ‘Tony! Open up or I’ll smash the doors in!’
He wasn’t waiting around for an answer. Five seconds later he picked up a loose stone from the rockery and hurled it at the front-room window. He let his Grenson heel do the rest before diving through the gap he’d created and rolling on the carpet below, not caring about cuts to arms and legs.
‘Tony!’
No reply. But someone up above was making a noise. He ran up two flights of stairs to the top-floor bedroom and tried the door. It was locked. He took a run up, arched his shou
