The Saab screeched into Greatorex Street at eleven minutes past the hour. They’d been delayed by a random police patrol, in which a pair of blasé officers had tested the alcohol levels of Geraint’s breath. To everyone’s fury, they’d had to sit for more than ten minutes behind a line of five other cars stopped for the same reason. The only good thing about the delay was that it gave them time to pay the samurai in the car.