I remember that I photographed it.

Four photographs through a dirty garage window, and they are terrible photographs, and they are in a federal case file.

Corinne closed the door and got in and drove.

I gave it thirty seconds and then I took the Land Rover.

We had an old Defender that had been my brother’s and that lived at the back of the garage and that nobody in the family used, which was pure luck.

I had also — and this is the only competent thing I did that morning — spent about four minutes of my two hours working out that if I was going to follow a car, I should not do it in my own car, and that I should stay a very long way back, and that if I lost her I would rather lose her than be seen.