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eggs.'
    'Faberge,' said Roy.
    'Yeah, Faberge. Roy's clever, see. When he did his borstal he learned silversmithing. Not like the rest of us. We learned fuck all.' Bruce looked at Gordy. 'Well, how to blow a peter maybe.' Then he stood back and pointed at each man in turn. 'Tony Fortune. Roy James.'
    They shook hands. 'Nice driving,' said Tony, and meant it.
    Roy grunted his thanks.
    'Tony here can get us what we want,' Bruce went on.
    'Oh yeah?' Roy asked, his voice laced with disbelief. 'Mark Twos?'
    Tony nodded. 'Any preference on what model?'
    'The three point four,' Roy said firmly, accepting a fresh tea off Gordy and taking a sip. 'Bloody hell, Gordy, how much Harry Tate you spoon in there?'
    'Put hairs on your chest.'
    'And on my tongue.' He looked over his shoulder, where the Class Is were about to begin a rolling start.
    'Why the three point four?' Tony asked. 'The three point eight is faster.'
    'Yeah, 'course it is. And it's the same lump, just with a bigger rad and oil cooler. But somehow, the balance is all wrong. And the power output isn't as even; there's a good chance of wheelspin, especially on those Dunlops they fit. The three point four is a sweeter engine, gets the power down much more smoothly.' He shrugged. 'That's what I think anyway.'
    'Well, you'll be the one driving it,' Tony said. 'Anything else?'
    'I really like the metallic blue that Jaguar does,' said Roy with a smile. 'One of them in that colour would be handy.'
    Tony nodded again. 'OK, Roy, a three point four Mark Two Jaguar in metallic blue. Leave it to me.'
    The Class 1 karts came up to the start line, the flag dropped and, in a cloud of two-stroke, the angry buzzing of competition began again. 'I got another race after this, boys,' Roy told them. 'See you later.'
    After Roy had left, Bruce said, 'I told you he was particular. There's one other thing he doesn't know about though, another mod.'
    'What's that?' asked Gordy. 'A gun turret?'
    Bruce stroked his chin as if he were actually considering it before breaking into a grin. 'No, more's the pity.' He turned to Tony. 'Just make sure you lose the back seats.'

Six
    From the Daily Sketch, 16 October 1962
    ACTOR LAMENTS LOSS OF 'PRIDE AND JOY'
    TV's Peter Gunn, the American actor Craig Stevens, last night appealed for the return of his metallic-blue 3.4 Mk 2 Jaguar. The luxury saloon was taken from outside his home on Eaton Square, where he is renting a house with his wife Alexis, on Tuesday night. 'The car was a welcome-to-London present from Lew Grade,' said the actor. 'I have only had it a few weeks and it is my pride and joy.' Mr Stevens, who played private detective Peter Gunn for a hundred episodes of the series, is in England to film Man of the World, his new thriller programme, for Mr Grade. A reward of a hundred pounds has been offered for the safe recovery of the Jaguar.

Seven
    New Scotland Yard, Central London, October 1962
    Detective Constable William Naughton never did discover who put his name in the Flying Squad's 'book' at Scotland Yard. Whenever their peripatetic approach to crime took them to an outlying district, the Squad detectives were encouraged to keep an eye out for any likely prospects among the officers there. Names were logged back at New Scodand Yard - The Big House - and enquiries then made of DIs as to the subject's suitability for moving up a league.
    Billy Naughton, like every other plainclothes copper, knew this. So whenever a unit of the Squad came to his station at Lucan Place, Chelsea, the young DC made sure he helped wherever he could, from taking fingerprints to pointing the blokes to the right pub for an after-hours drink. He'd been stuck as an Aide to CID for two years when he was called in to see his DI. 'Whose arse have you had your tongue up?' the latter had enquired with a grin. 'Some fucking blind and deaf idiot on the Flying Squad has asked for you.'
    Whoever had written in the book that he 'showed promise', Naughton thanked him every time he walked