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Mostly shrouded by cloud as it was, the moon gave off enough light to catch the gleaming sheen of the wet dirt track receding in a graceful curve into the distant trees. It was also enough light to catch the polished radiator grill of the Citroen car that was nosing cautiously out of the bushes in response to a moment’s blink of torchlight from out of the darkness. The car returned the signal with a sharp flash of its headlights. Suddenly it was not just the trees that stirred softly in the breeze. Materialising out of nowhere, a host of figures ghosted up out of the night to form a double line alongside the track. Frank reckoned their number to be about over a dozen, as far as he could see, as he got out of the two-door cabriolet.
Three of them that approached him preferred to keep a
