“Ah.” Harold turned into Magdalene Street. “But you've eaten tonight, you said?”
“That's right.” Dill turned to him and showed his teeth. It gave Harold a bit of a start until he realised it was supposed to be a smile. “Don't worry. You're quite safe.”
“I would never have imagined otherwise.” He pulled up outside Betty's twenty-four hour café, behind a marked police car. White striplighting from the café spilled onto the pavement and drowning out the faded neon lettering. It was a thriving internet café when it opened in the nineties but with the rise of home internet it consoled itself with catering to the night owls and sobering husbands. You could always be assured of a warm seat, fresh tea (or coffee if you absolutely had to) and free wi-fi. Harold could see through the window the place was almost empty. Two police officers from the car in front sat at the bar, their hands curled around mugs.
“I just need a cup of tea. Do you want anything?”
“I can't digest normal food anymore but thanks for the offer.” Dill reached for his phone as it bleeped. “Oh! They have online security backup.”
“This place.” Dill waved through the van window. “Say Hi to Sam. He's hacked in. He can see us.”
“Brilliant.” Harold cracked open the door. “I'll just be a tick.”
“Take your time.” Dill typed a message into his phone. “I've just told Sam we're fetching the book from your mothers and I'll be back after that.”