He would make straight for it, openly, like a man bent on a mission there was no reason to conceal.

If luck went right, and Crossen was abed, he would be on the river within fifteen minutes.

His blood ran faster as he took his first step out into the open starlight.

Fifty yards ahead of him was the building which Cardigan used for his fuel.

Safely beyond that, no one could see him from the windows of the hospital.