Provender Gleed by James Lovegrove Page A

administered the muscle relaxant, there was no longer the safeguard of a plausible cover story. What they looked like they were doing was exactly what they were doing: they were kidnapping him.
    But they made it to Damien's car safely. They saw no one. No one saw them. No one challenged them. The fireworks afforded the ideal diversion. Everyone's attention, including the security personnel's, was on the display. Plus, it provided illumination to see by.
    Is hated to admit it, but Damien had thought the whole thing through really pretty well. He had had help, she knew, but nonetheless...
    Damien lowered the lid of the boot and clumped it shut, leaning on it with all his weight. The catch was temperamental, sometimes not working and sometimes working too well, so that you had to thump the lid to get it to open. That was the problem with Chinese import cars like the Dragon Wind Compact. Not only were they unreliable but replacement parts, so often needed, were hard to come by. And with Dragon Winds in general there was the additional flaw of a crude catalytic converter which gave the exhaust emissions an unusually sulphurous stench. This had prompted motoring journalists to crack many a predictable joke about the brand name.
    Tonight the god of felony was in a benign mood and the catch on the Compact behaved itself. Damien raised his hands slowly, experimentally. The boot lid did not spring open. He allowed himself a quick, tight smile.
    'Right. Let's roll.'
    They drove out along one of the estate's back roads, the Dragon Wind's headlamps combing the dark. Is, in the passenger seat, sat with her fingernails digging into her palms. They weren't free and clear yet, far from it. There was the gate to get through. To be precise, there was the security presence at the gate to get past. She knew Damien had prepared for this contingency, but that didn't in any way help to calm her heart rate or unclamp the tightness in her belly. She was half-dizzy with fear and adrenaline.
    Damien, by contrast, seemed to be thriving on the excitement. He was confident in the driving seat, his fingers tapping out a merry rhythm on the steering wheel. As Is looked at him, studying his profile, she remembered that he was handsome. It was an odd revelation. How could she have forgotten? But there it was. He had a near-spherical head which betokened, she thought, integrity, and eyes which, though a mite too deep-set, shone with a zealous gleam. His jaw, with its pronounced overbite, could have detracted from his looks but somehow didn't. Piranha-esque , a girlfriend of hers had once called it, but Is didn't think that was quite right. (Besides, the remark was made after Is and Damien broke up, when slagging off the ex was considered fair game, indeed was a vital part of post-relationship the healing process.) He was well-built, too. Even wearing that absurd Harlequin outfit, he had physical presence. Damien was not someone people took lightly or dared laugh at.
    Up ahead, the gate hove into view. Is glimpsed the brick-built guardhouse by the road's edge, with its open arched doorway. The guardhouse had been occupied by a member of the security staff when she and Damien had arrived this afternoon, a thickset monster of a man with hod-carrier shoulders and a face that looked like it had received more than its fair share of punches. He had leaned out to inspect their passes like some troll from its cave. Now, as far as she could tell, the guardhouse was empty.
    Damien drew to a halt in front of the gate. 'Better make this quick.' He eyed the dashboard clock's phosphorescent dial. 'We've got a half-hour window and it's closing.'
    Is leapt out of the car and hurried over to the guardhouse. As she neared the doorway she slowed and peered cautiously in, just to be sure. Yes, empty. The security man was off chasing shadows in the grounds. If interrogated, he would claim he heard suspicious sounds out in the woods and went to investigate. She couldn't imagine how