The Drover’s Rest was a regular haunt of his. Not only did the large country pub have an excellent menu, but the owner was a woman who insisted all her female staff wore skirts.

While a fair percentage of the staff were barely more than schoolgirls working their first job – and therefore out of bounds for his admiration – there was a pair of head waitresses who were pretty and could be considered as angels. They were who he was here to see.

He needed to savour the delights of sexuality and beauty. He’d not been able to watch Sarah today. She hadn’t been at work and although he’d watched her house for most of the day, he’d seen no sign of her. He could only assume that she’d either left early, or spent the day at home.

Whichever it was, he’d missed her and he needed his fix of beauty.

One of the head waitresses came his way. She was a mid-twenties brunette who had long shapely legs and the kind of smile that could melt an iceberg in seconds.

‘Hello, Harry. I haven’t seen you here for a while.’

‘I know. I meant to get back here sooner, but you know how life gets in the way of plans.’

‘I do indeed.’ A short tinkling laugh broke her sentence. ‘Would you like a menu?’

Harry took the offered menu and made some extra small talk. When the waitress left, he watched the way her backside oscillated as she walked away from him.

The early evening passed in an appreciation of good food, nylon clad legs and pretty faces.

By the time he had paid his bill and pressed a generous tip into the head waitress’s hand, his belly was full and his heart was empty.

The two head waitresses were each more beautiful than the average woman, but even combined, they were no match for Sarah, the most beautiful of all the angels.

A pair of police officers walked into the bar as he was leaving but he paid them no heed. He’d done no wrong and the half shandy he’d washed his meal down with wasn’t likely to get him arrested for drink-driving.

But before he got to the door, the taller, bearded PC stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

‘Mr Quirke. I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me.’

Harry’s military training told him everything he needed to know. PC Beard was poised for action. His hands hung loosely at his sides ready to act and he’d shifted his weight to the balls of his feet in case he had to move in a hurry.

‘Of course.’ A thought struck him. ‘Is it my sister? Is she okay?’

‘As far as I know, she’s fine. This is to do with another matter. You’ll find out more when we get you to the station.’

PC Beard was courteous but uninformative, as he escorted Harry towards the police car and guided him into the back seat.

As they hurtled through the countryside, Harry sat in the back and tried to work out why he’d been lifted. He’d done no wrong that he knew of and he’d not witnessed any crime.

Again, his army training kicked in and he relaxed into the seat. As a sniper’s spotter, he’d become accustomed to great periods of boredom followed by a few moments of frantic action.