But if he was looking down there, he was looking the wrong way.

I was behind him.

But where was his accomplice?

The moon finally dipped out of sight, and the light rushed away with it. But I didn't move immediately, not for a minute or two, not until I was sure my eyes had fully adjusted to the change. In truth, the night had not become totally black, as there was still a slight glow from the stars, but it was no longer possible for me to see Greystone Stables from this position. Likewise, it would now be impossible for anyone down there to see me.

I checked once more that my cell phone was switched off, stood up and started forwards across the grass.

19

I approached the stables in such a way as to take me past the muck heap near the back end of the passageway in which I had hidden the previous week.

I was ultracareful not to trip over any unseen debris as I eased myself silently through the fence that separated the stable buildings from the paddock behind. How I longed to have a set of night-vision goggles, the magic piece of kit that enabled soldiers to see in the dark, albeit with a green hue. My only consolation was that it was most unlikely that my enemy had them either-we would be as blind as one another.

I stood up close against the stable wall at the back of the short passageway, closed my eyes tight and listened. Nothing. No breath, no scraping of a foot, no cough. I went on listening for well over a minute, keeping my own breathing shallow and silent. Still nothing.

Confident that there was no one hiding in the passageway, I stepped forwards. Here, under the roof, it was truly pitch-black. I tried to recall an image in my head of the inside of the passageway from my time here last week. I remembered that I had used an empty blue plastic drum as a seat. That would be here somewhere in the darkness. I could also recall that there were some wooden staves leaning up against one of the walls.

I moved along the passage very slowly, feeling ahead into the darkness with my hands and my real foot. The canvas basketball boots were thin-in truth, rather too thin for such a cold night-but they allowed me to sense the underfoot conditions so much better than I could have in regulation-issue thick-soled army boots.

My foot touched the plastic drum, and I eased around it to the door. I pressed my face to it, looking through the gaps between the widely spaced wooden slats.

Compared to the total blackness of the passageway, the stable yard beyond seemed quite bright, but there was still not enough light to see into the shadows of the overhanging roof. I couldn't see if any of the stable doors were open but, equally, that would mean that no one would be able to see me as I eased open the slatted door from the passageway and stepped out into the yard.

I slowly closed the spring-loaded door and then stood very still, listening again for anyone's breathing, but there was no sound, not even the slight rustling of a breeze.

Provided he hadn't changed his position, the man I had seen from the woods on the hillside, the man who had made a movement, would have been out of sight from where I was, even in bright sunshine, but I knew there had to be at least one other person around here somewhere. And if Alex Reece had joined Warren and Garraway, there would be three of them to deal with. The quote from Sun Tzu in The Art of War about relative army sizes floated into my head once more. If you are in equal number to your enemy, then fight if you are able to surprise; if you are fewer, then keep away.

I was one and they were two, maybe even three. Should I not just keep away?

Another of Sun Tzu's pearls of wisdom drifted into my consciousness. All warfare is based on deception… When we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near… Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.

I folded back the sleeve of my black roll-necked sweater and looked at the watch beneath. It was four forty-seven.

In eighteen minutes, at five minutes past five precisely, a car would drive through the gates at the bottom of the Greystone Stables driveway and stop. The driver would sound the car horn once, and the car would remain there with the headlights blazing and the engine running for exactly five minutes. Then it would reverse out again onto the road and drive away. At least, it would do all of those things if Ian Norland obeyed to the letter the instructions I had left him.

He hadn't been very keen on the plan, and that was putting it mildly, but I'd promised him that he was in no danger, provided he kept the car doors locked. It was yet another one of those dodgy promises of mine. But I didn't actually believe that Jackson Warren and Peter Garraway would kill me there and then. Not before I'd returned the million dollars.

"Warfare is based on deception… When we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away." When I was in the stable yard searching for my mother, I'd make Warren and Garraway believe I was down near the gates.

"Hold out baits to entice the enemy." Make the car wait with its lights on to draw them down the hill away from the stables, and away from me.

"Feign disorder, and crush him." Only time would tell on that one.

I moved slowly and silently to my right, around the closed end of the quadrangle of stables, keeping in the darkest corners under the overhanging roof. Where would my mother be? I felt for all the bolts on the stable doors. They were all firmly closed. I decided, at this stage, not to try to open any, as it would surely make some noise.

Unsurprisingly, no one had mended the pane of glass in the tack-room window that I'd broken to get out. I leaned right in through the opening, closed my eyes tight and listened.

I could hear someone whimpering. My mother was indeed here. The sound was slight but unmistakable, and it came from my left. She was in one of the stalls on the same side of the stables as I had been.

I listened some more. Once or twice I heard her move, but the sound was not close, and other than an occasional muffled cry, I could not hear her breathing. There were ten stalls down each of the long sides of the quadrangle, and I reckoned she must be at least three away from the tack room, probably more. Maybe she was in the same stall in which I had been imprisoned.

I looked again at my watch. Four fifty-nine.

Six minutes until the car arrived-I hoped.

I withdrew my head and shoulders from through the broken window and moved very slowly along the line of stables, counting the doors. I could remember clearly having to climb over five dividing walls to get to the tack room. I counted four stable doors, then I stopped. The stall I had been in was the next one along.

Would there be a sentry? Would anyone be on guard?

I stood very still and made my breathing as silent as I could. I dared not look again at my watch in case the luminosity of the face gave me away.

I waited in the dark, listening and counting the seconds-Mississippi one, Mississippi two, Mississippi three and so on. Just as I had done here before.

I waited and waited, and I began to doubt that Ian was coming. I was well past Mississippi twenty in the third minute when I heard the car horn, a long two-second blast. Good boy.

There was immediate movement from the end of the row of stables not twenty yards from where I was standing. Someone had been sitting there in silence, but now I clearly heard the person walk away, back towards the house, crunching across the gravel turning area. I heard him call out to someone else, asking what the noise was, and there was a murmured reply from farther away that I couldn't catch.