CHAPTER 42
OUTSIDE BLACKWOOD’S HEADQUARTERS, we got back into Lara’s Porsche. She’d gone for metallic black paintwork with cotton candy-pink leather. I might not have known her for long, but it suited her. Classy on the outside and cheerful on the inside.
Half an hour later, she pulled up in front of a pair of art deco-style iron gates, fancier than those at Blackwood but every bit as solid. The high walls on either side of them stretched left and right as far as I could see. Nobody came out of the guardhouse, but the gates slowly rolled back and Lara pointed upwards.
“They watch with cameras.”
The driveway wound past lawns and through trees before we arrived at a house dropped from outer space. The metal, the glass, the impossible angles all looked alien in the surrounding countryside
