A Very Slow Getaway Terror Thomas sat bolt upright in bed. His hair was as wild as his temper. Who on earth was ringing him at 2 a.m.? He fumbled for the light switch and his good eye blinked in the light. He put his mobile to his ear. ‘Yes?’ he barked. ‘This had better be good.’ He listened intently. His second-in-command was jabbering about the fire alarm going off and the police arriving. ‘It’s not a fire. It’s intruders, sir,’ he said. ‘We think they’ve taken out the security team. They’ve smashed a load of priceless Ming vases and it seems likely that they’ve made off with one of the Egyptian mummies.’ Terror Thomas didn’t need any more information. He’d spent fifteen years at the sharp end of the army, on duty in the desert. It had been a career full of action, fighting, suspense and thrills. He’d lost his eye along the way and now his days were spent watching teenagers from the corner of his good eye or glaring at small children to make sure they didn’t steal sweets from the museum shop.
