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passing over the Lake District? Or had they gone further north, into the highlands of Scotland? He realized it was Scotland when he saw a crinkly coastline up ahead. The chopper flew over the sea – it was grey and threatening in the almost-light of dawn, and it made Zak shiver, especially when he felt the chopper losing height and he could make out the foam of the choppy waters.
    Then there was land: a sheer, craggy cliff with moorland on top of it. The chopper flew low – low enough for its downdraught to cause hedges to buffetin the wind – before it reduced speed and gradually rested on the ground once more. The hum of the engines grew fainter, and although the rotary blades continued to spin, Zak could tell they were slowing down.
    The blond-haired man opened the side door and jumped down. He turned and held up one hand to help Zak out. Zak ignored it and dismounted from the chopper by himself. They ran away from the downdraught and he stopped to look around.
    It was just about the bleakest place Zak had ever seen. The dawn light was still a faint, steely grey. It didn’t do much for the featureless expanse around him. There were no trees; just moor as far as he could see, with only the occasional mound of crags erupting from the ground to break up the monotony. And in the distance, perhaps a mile away, a single house, lonely and imposing against the grey skyline.
    The blond man pointed towards it just as it started to drizzle. ‘That’s where we’re going.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘We’ll run,’ he said.
    Without waiting for a word from Zak, he started jogging in the direction of the house.
    The drizzle was becoming gradually more intense. The helicopter, which couldn’t have been on the ground for more than thirty seconds, lifted up into the air again, leaving Zak on that featureless moor,getting wet. The blond man was already a hundred metres away and didn’t look like he was prepared to wait. Zak pulled his hood up over his head, and ran after him.
    It took a minute or so to catch him up. ‘All right,’ the blond man said when Zak was alongside him. ‘Slow down, it’s not a race. You need to learn how to conserve your energy when you’re running. Anyone can sprint a couple of hundred metres, but for successful escape and evasion you need to know how to cover long distances.’
    Zak looked over his shoulder. ‘Who am I escaping from?’ he asked.
    ‘No one,’ said the man. ‘Not yet.’
    They ran on in silence.
    It took about ten minutes to reach the house, by which time Zak was totally soaked. He bent over to get his breath back. The blond man, although he was also wet, didn’t seem remotely puffed. He strode up a flight of stone steps that led to an arched wooden door. On one side of the door, looking quite out of place on this big, old house, was an electronic keypad. The man typed in a number and Zak stood up just in time to see a red light shoot from the device and scan the man’s retina.
    A pause. And then a slow hissing sound as the big door swung open. A figure appeared in the doorway.He was tall, with a deeply lined, tanned face and long grey hair spilling out onto his shoulders.
    ‘Michael . . .’ Zak muttered.
    ‘Hello, Zak. Hello, Raf,’ the man said. ‘It’s good to see you both here safely. All went well, I trust? I imagine you’d like some dry clothes, and something hot to drink.’ He turned and disappeared into the house.
    Raf looked at Zak. ‘After you,’ he said politely.
    Zak trotted up the stone steps. ‘You’re too kind,’ he replied. He walked up the steps, in out of the rain.
    And then he spun round. The heavy door had hissed shut behind him. He couldn’t help feeling as if someone had just locked him in.

5
GUARDIAN ANGELS

    Zak found himself in a large, high-ceilinged hallway with a chequerboard floor and an immense stone fireplace in which there was a roaring wood fire. He and Raf headed straight for it, and it was only a few seconds before their wet