(How it might have gone.)

They travelled back to headquarters in one of the transporters; Freeman in the middle seat, squashed between Straker and the driver, James Watson, a burly Londoner. They would have caught the train, but there’d been a derailment on the main line while they’d been in the meeting and the lines had ground to a halt. Straker’s only response to the news had been to call HQ and commandeer a vehicle to take them back to base: a mobile or maybe one of the company coaches, but it could have been worse. At least the transport was brand new, still with that ‘new’ smell to it.