13
I turn off the music in the Ferrari. The headlights, too. I reverse it out and park it up on Grant's forecourt, slipping it between a pair of secondhand Buick saloons. I lock it up and jog back under the underpass. Me and Carlos go for a nice little drive in the Range Rover.
He's in the boot now, tied up with a handful of oily cloths I found in there.
One around the ankles, one binding the wrists and the other used as a gag.
There's another little place I know. I remember picking it out while riding the bus between jobs. A boarded-up warehouse I found myself thinking would be perfect for a business meeting.
Old instincts. Hard to let go of. And here we are. Inside the warehouse.
I drag Carlos out of the boot of the Range Rover and across the warehouse floor by the collar of his bl
