40
Driving Sideways – Freddie King
I went to where I’d left my car. It was still there, just a bit dustier. I fed the information I’d been given into the satnav, and it led me down through south London towards Croydon. It was still baking hot, the tarmac shimmering in the heat, and although I had the air con on high I was still sweating like a dog. More from worry about Madge than the weather.
Stowe-Hartley had been spot on with the timing. Just under an hour after I’d got the call, I arrived at an industrial estate on the south side of Croydon. It had seen better days, but then so had I.
I drove through a set of open gates, and saw a tattooed skinhead sitting in a deck chair under a striped umbrella, drinking from a can of special brew.
He was expecting me, and he pointed to a wareho
