Countdown to Terror

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There was no sign of the black Ford Consul which had been chasing Karl Ruger through the early rising mists of the April morning. Had choosing to use the labyrinth of small alleyways that weaved around this South London estate, enabled him to evade it?

In the breaking dawn light, the 46 year old rocket engineer was exhausted. He spread out his hands onto a wall; a fly-poster of McKenna's Gold, the latest all-star cast western currently showing in the UK cinemas, had been recently pasted. As Ruger stared at it, and as if to share in his anxiety, Gregory Peck and Omar Sharif, along with the myriad of other famous names standing in a queue behind them, stared back at him, a look of anxious curiosity on their faces.

He turned his body to lean against it, reached into the pocket of his brown tweed jacket, and pulled out the piece of vellum his friend had given him.

Earlier, before the sudden appearance of the menacing-looking vehicle, Ruger had briefly read the piece of vellum given to him by his old friend; now, with more time, and through vapours of his breath, he read the handwritten address:

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