They left the Museum and the 7th floor, taking the private stairwell down to the car park behind the Yard. Judas pointed at the driver’s side of their car. Williams opened the door and jumped in. He was revving the engine before Judas had a chance to open the passenger door. The gates to the Yard opened automatically and Williams put his foot down. The bottom of the number plate scraped loudly on the concrete ramp that led up to the gates, earning him one of those ‘what a d**k’ looks from two young CID officers who were just clocking off.
Moments later, they were through the gates and heading south. Judas checked the rear-view mirror, just to make sure the number plate wasn’t skidding across the road behind them.
“Vauxhall or Battersea?” asked Judas.
Williams was driving badly, as usual
