Lights

A large black car skidded to a halt by the dustbins. A young man in dark glasses leaped out into the drizzle holding what looked like a carrycot and snaked toward the entrance.

Mr. Young took his pipe out of his mouth. "You've left your lights on," he said helpfully.

The man gave him the blank look of someone to whom lights are the least of his worries, and waved a hand vaguely toward the Bentley. The lights went out.

"That's handy," said Mr. Young. "Infra-red, is it?"

He was mildly surprised to see that the man did not appear to be wet. And that the carrycot appeared to be occupied.

***

Good Omens - Eleven years ago