They moved along a winding route across the mountain for what felt an eternity. At some point they drove past a caravan park, then interned themselves among holly oaks and pines again. Finally they arrived to the end of the track, where it became a forlorn street in the confines of some residential development. They parked the car by one of the two solitary houses in that street, built on a slope and offering a splendid panorama of the region all the way to the sea. More houses were scattered in the vicinity, all in the same style, none close enough to invite casual conversation unless the inhabitants had the habit of keeping a megaphone in their gardens.

Theirs was the only vehicle around. The white van was nowhere to be seen. Cap Man pocketed the ignition key before making them get off, warning them...

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