That route took them in no particular direction; they simply drove where their instincts suggested. Intentionality, Jerichau had said, was the easiest way to get caught. I never intend to steal, he explained to Suzanna one day as they drove, not until I’ve done it; so nobody ever knows what I’m up to, because I don’t either. She liked this philosophy; it appealed to her sense of humor. If she ever got back to London — to her clay and her kiln — she would see if the notion made aesthetic as well as criminal sense. Maybe letting go was the only true control. What kind of pots would she make if
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