She was standing in the hallway waiting, and as he drew up she picked up two handbags and ran down the steps. He made no effort to get out. From where he sat he could see people peering round curtains all down the street. He wasn’t going to let them give his description to the cops if anyone got suspicious.
“Can you manage?” he called. “The bags can go in the boot behind. It’s quite easy to open. My engine’s cold. I’ve got to nurse her along for a minute.”
“That’s all right,” she said, and he felt two thuds as the bags were dumped in the back. Leaning over, he opened the off−door and she got in. She wore the same red−and−white−spotted dress, and as she sat down the skirt rode up. Her long tapering legs sent a little shiver through him. She pulled her skirt down and laughed nervously. “Some car,” she said.
“Like it?” He engaged the gears. “We’ve got a mighty long way to go. I’ve been sleepin’ all the afternoon an’ I want to get as far as I can tonight.”
She relaxed back against the upholstered seat. “I like driving at night. When you get tired may I drive?”
He looked at her. “Can you?”
“Of course.”
This was something he hadn’t thought of. If they took it in turns to sleep and drive they’d halve the time.
“That’s fine,” he said, and meant it.
He drove steadily, keeping to an even forty miles an hour. He had no wish to get an excited speed cop on his trail. Goshawk had given him forged licence papers, but even with those he wasn’t going to take chances.