His heart beat double time and he sprinted across the road into the station, stumbling over a small child, who screamed. He didn’t hang around to be berated by the mother. All the time he was looking over his shoulder.

He got through the barrier and sprinted to the nearest platform. He had no idea where he was going, just that he needed to get out of central London. Once he’d caught his breath, he discovered that he’d got on a District Line train travelling east. He noticed a woman opposite staring at him and thought he must look disconcerting: suicide bombers sweated before they detonated, didn’t they? He smiled.

By the time they reached Mansion House, he could take the woman’s stares no longer and disembarked. He walked aimlessly, heading wherever his feet took him: anywhere he wouldn’t be recognised. He tried Philip’s phone again, and this time he answered.

‘Philip, I was followed. It’s the police, I know it. It was an unmarked car with two personnel—’

‘Christopher, Christopher! Calm down, for goodness’ sake. Go home, go to the golf range. Make love to your wife, I don’t know, take her to dinner. Relax! They’ve got nothing, I tell you, nothing. My laundromat is very reliable, you know. There’s nobody and nothing that can be traced to you. Only your own mistakes can do that. How long have you known me?’

‘I don’t know, twenty years?’ His breathing was slowing.

‘Put things into perspective, man. Get out of London and away from back-stabbing, blood-sucking civil servants; the mere sight of them makes me think they’re plotting. Enjoy your money, book a holiday. Do you think I would be so stupid as to compromise us? We always said that if any shit hit the fan, the dame would take the fallout: she’s the one who’s fiddled the system for thirty years, not us. We merely oiled the wheels and supplied the chemistry. Stop panicking.’

‘Yes. Of course. God, I thought they had me. You’re right.’

‘All law enforcers need solid evidence, now more than ever, and if they don’t have it, the case will never see the inside of a courtroom. But you have to hold your nerve, Christopher.’

‘Yes. I will.’

‘I know you will.’

They hung up. Christopher saw that he’d walked to the river, and he thrust his hands in his pockets and shook his head, embarrassed at what an idiot he had been. Going home was just what he needed; he’d spent too much time in the city recently. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was his contact inside the Met.

Chapter 45