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and came to a tall wire fence. He followed it until he came to a gate. It was locked. Jensen threw over his suitcase and climbed after it. As he launched himself at the ground, the sleeve of his coat caught in the barbed wire on top. A long rip was torn in it. He stood there in the dark, feeling along the fabric with his fingers. The damage seemed irreparable.
    Jensen worked his way back along the fence until he reached the front of the terminal building.
    The street lights weren’t working. It was entirely dark and he had to feel his way along the wall. The air was raw and cold, and it was drizzling. He stopped and tried to get his bearings. He did not know the airport very well, but he had a good memory. From what he could remember, he was less than tenmetres from the main entrance. Outside it there were telephone boxes and a taxi rank. He left the wall, crossed the pavement and walked into the side of a car. Found the handle and opened the front door. When he reached his hand in, it came up against something soft.
    Jensen knew at once what it was. It did not make him jump. He was neither scared nor surprised, but put down his case and began feeling around with both hands. He confirmed there was a dead body slumped over the steering wheel.
    He shut the car door, picked up his case and cut back across the pavement. The phone boxes were where he had expected to find them. He went into the first, fished a coin out of his pocket. He heard the coin fall into place, but got no tone in the receiver. The telephone was unusable. He moved on to the next one. Same thing there.
    Jensen had just gone into the third phone box when he heard the howl of a siren. It started somewhere not too far away and approached at speed. Within a few minutes, the beam of light from a pair of headlamps cut through the mist and drizzle. The vehicle braked and came to a stop with its front wheels on the pavement and its headlights directed on the terminal building, no more than fifteen metres from the phone boxes. The glare was reflected by the wall of glass, shedding a diffuse light. Through the steamed-up glass of the phone box he could see that the vehicle was a standard ambulance, white with a red cross on the side and a flashing blue light on top. The siren stopped wailing and the ignition was turned off, but the headlights were left on and the rotating light on the roof continued to cast its flashes of blue lightning into the darkness. Two people in white coats got out.
    Jensen picked up his suitcase and was about to push open the swing door when he stopped.
    Both had blue armbands and one was a woman. He had never seen a female stretcher-bearer before. He froze, listening.
    ‘They must have heard wrong,’ said the woman. ‘Could anyone really land in this weather?’
    ‘Seems pretty unlikely, but we’d better check.’
    They switched on their torches and went in separate directions. The woman passed close by the telephone box. Jensen remained motionless. Her movements were quick and elastic. She seemed quite young. The sound of her footsteps faded away. It was quiet for a moment. Then the steps approached again.
    ‘Hello?’ called the woman.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Bring your torch over here. There’s a dead body in this car.’
    The ambulance man passed right by the phone box, too. Jensen couldn’t see them any longer, but he could hear their voices clearly.
    ‘Some old bloke,’ the man said sadly. ‘Fancy sitting here dying in your taxi outside a barred and bolted airport. He had his cap on, too.’
    ‘Very odd that people can’t learn to do as they’re told,’ said the woman.
    ‘We’ll have to take him with us to the central unit.’
    ‘Yep. Give me a hand here.’
    ‘Hadn’t I better get a stretcher?’
    ‘No need. I’m stronger than I look.’
    ‘Hey, hang on a minute.’
    ‘Yes, what is it?’
    ‘This old guy’s sick.’
    ‘Well, he’s dead.’
    ‘I know that, but look at him. He’s blue. Must have had a heart