Anticipating back-up from behind, Abbott ran towards the door, shoved it open and found the guy rolling in pain on the other side, Abbott’s round having wounded his shoulder. Abbott kicked his gun away and kept going, through the next fire door and to the steps, and next to the steps the lift. They would be expecting him to take the steps. Looking down the stairwell, he saw shadows, decided against, and sprinted past the door, past the lifts and to an emergency fire door at the other end.

This one, he could see, opened out to a set of steps that came down the outside of the building. He knew about it, of course. But then again, he’d been staying in the hotel; he had made it his business to know where all the exits were. His attackers? Not so much. They would have conducted a quick CTR of the place before launching their attack, if that.

Or, at least, that’s what he had to hope. He had to hope that this particular exit wasn’t covered. Hope number two: that the door wasn’t alarmed.

Both hands on the bar, steeling himself against what might happen next, he pushed.

There was no alarm. The next thing, he was on the steps outside, clattering down to ground level and trying to work out his next move. His handset was ringing. He raised it to his ear as he descended.

‘Tess?’

‘Alex. It’s OK. I’ve got a squad car on its way. They’ll be here any second.’

‘Remember,’ he told her, ‘only . . .’

‘Uniforms,’ she finished for him. ‘Got it.’

‘OK, I’m going to ring off and speak to Cuckoo.’

‘Cuckoo?’

‘Never mind. Just go with the copper. Everything’s going to be sorted out. You’re going to be OK.’

‘Thank you, Alex – and Alex?’

‘Yes.’

‘When I next see you . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘When I next see you, hopefully I’ll get the chance to thank you properly.’

‘Sure,’ he said. And despite everything – despite the situation, despite his need to remain cool and perhaps even more importantly sound cool, his heart sang. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

***

She had reached the Tube station now. She heard sirens and wondered if they were for her. Hoped they were.

She looked around. There was no sign of her pursuers. Perhaps they’d decided to give up for the moment. To regroup and try again later.

‘Later’ being the operative word, of course, because of course they’d try again. Whatever can of worms she’d opened, she had a feeling that it wasn’t easily closed.

And then she saw it, a badge. Behind it a man in plain-clothes, and she recoiled, thinking purely of the one instruction she’d been given. Only surrender to a uniform. But this guy was significantly older than the men who had been following her. From his suit onwards, he looked a little more careworn.