plates. The number corresponded to another Cayenne Turbo finished in the same colour; so if the police spotted the vehicle and ran a computer check they’d come up clean.
The main alarm went off as James and Dave crouched at opposite ends of the car. James had to take one of his gloves off to get his nail under the sticky backing on the plate, but his nervous state meant he was all fingers and thumbs. His heart went into overload when he realised that Dave had stuck on the rear plate and was already climbing into the driver’s seat.
‘What are you pissing around at?’ Dave shouted over the wailing alarm.
James finally lifted up the sticky backing and peeled it away. Dave had started the engine by the time he’d fixed it on. James sprinted around the car and jumped into the passenger seat. Dave was in a complete state.
‘I can’t find the plipper,’ Dave shouted.
‘What?’ James gasped.
‘The button on the dashboard, or the little doo-dah box thingummy that works the garage door,’ Dave explained frantically.
James joined Dave in the hunt. He popped open the glove box and a torrent of maps and sunglass cases spilled into his lap.
‘Oh shit.’
‘Get out and push the switch,’ Dave shouted, pointing at a green button mounted on the wall.
James got as far as opening the passenger door, but as he stepped out he spotted the plipper dangling off the steering column.
‘It’s on the key fob, you tosser,’ James shouted.
Dave manically grabbed the fob and pressed the button. The double garage doors began rumbling towards the ceiling at an agonisingly slow pace. When the door was halfway up, an elderly woman dressed in a straw hat and gardening gloves ducked under and furiously opened up the door beside James.
‘Get out of that car, young man,’ she demanded. ‘We don’t tolerate ruffians like you around here.’
She grabbed a handful of James’ T-shirt. Dave had begun rolling the car forwards, but he had to hit the brake. James had a free right arm and enough strength to punch his adversary into the following week, but he couldn’t bring himself to thump an old lady.
‘Get rid of her,’ Dave shouted.
James gave the woman a shove, but she had her nails sunk into his T-shirt and the neck ripped apart as she tumbled backwards. He swivelled on his leather seat and used his legs to shove the woman out of the way before reaching across to slam his door. The garage was now fully open.
‘Drive,’ James shouted.
‘Are her legs out of the way?’ Dave asked.
‘Yeah.’
James locked his door as Dave rolled cautiously away.
‘I don’t want to run her over,’ Dave said. ‘Are you sure her feet aren’t under the car?’
‘I told you she’s clear. Get a bloody move on.’
The big Porsche roared as Dave pulled it out of the garage. He spotted the old lady’s husband doddering up the driveway. He wore a blazer with gold buttons and came armed with a garden fork.
‘You little buggers,’ he shouted.
For one nasty moment, James thought the old man was going to dive on to the bonnet. Instead, he launched the fork at the car like a javelin. James instinctively ducked down as the metal prongs bounced against the windscreen.
As the fork clattered harmlessly into the gravel, Dave slammed on the brakes to avoid swiping a kid who was racing his bike along the street. A whole family was rushing down the driveway of the house opposite to see what had set off the alarm.
Dave checked the road and pulled out at speed. He hit sixty, before braking sharply and taking a right into a busy main road.
‘Them two old codgers must have a death wish,’ Dave shouted furiously. ‘If we’d been real robbers, we could have had knives, guns or anything.’
‘Bonkers,’ James said, staring at his ripped T-shirt and shaking his head. ‘Stark raving bonkers.’
Dave blasted his horn, swerved around a car stopped at a crossing, ran a red light and then piled on the accelerator as they flew past the underground station, touching seventy miles an hour.
‘It’ll be a miracle if we get out of here without the cops nailing us,’ Dave said. ‘And I don’t care how much Leon offers, or what it means for the mission, I’m not gonna be stealing any more cars.’
‘Too right,’ James said, anxiously looking back over his shoulder for any sign of chasing cops. ‘It’s not worth it.’
22. COMPUTER
Dave’s rusting Ford rolled on to Leon’s used car lot just after 9 a.m. The