ELEVEN
Ryan Chaise’s plan was to drive across the country to East Anglia a little later on in the day. He calculated five hours, six with a stop for lunch. The big Audi would eat up the miles but being a large car, sticking out like a sore thumb, he’d have to ditch it, perhaps just outside Norwich, and hire another one. That way he might lose the tail, but he doubted it. The thought of someone following him did not cause him undue concern. He always knew they’d be there, somewhere, as soon as Mellor, the messenger boy at the airport with s**t for brains, reported in. The amateurish way in which they had set up Chaise meant, perhaps, to wrong-foot him, the heavy Simms proving ridiculously easy to take down. Being out of the business for so long Chaise had forgotten how galling everything w
