Not that I gained anything, except perhaps the time to get scared. We were in a car. It was moving fast. There was a contented hum about the engine and a self-satisfied comfort in the upholstery that told me we were probably in the Rover. But there was a good chance I was on my way to join the other Rover, which might not yet be a burnt-out wreck. They probably wanted to make it look good with the burnt-out body of a driver inside. I eased open one eye and surveyed the possibilities. On one side of me was Troy, just about obscuring the nearside window. We were in the back, and on the other side of me was somebody else I couldn’t see, but could smell—aniseed. He was sucking aniseed sweets. Wedged between my thigh and Troy’s was the box of paper handkerchiefs. He dug into them from time to time. Troy had the sniffs. It was too late to hope it might develop into pneumonia. The driver was just a heavy bulk between me and the wheel. That made three of them.
