He got into a blue Renault Mégane and drove fifteen minutes south to a huge mail-sorting office near Finsbury, where he’d been ever since. Watching from their pool car on the far side of the street, and judging by the number of others who entered the facility at the same time, it appeared to Amala and Aaron that the abrupt end to Mardell’s detention had allowed him to make it to work for the start of his shift. Now he was likely to be inside for a good eight hours, and with Frank primed to take over surveillance, there was little more Hawkins could do. So, after chasing updates on a few other investigations, she had taken the opportunity to return home. To wait for news.

She had just turned towards the kitchen when Admiral Kirk emerged from the living room, his bulging midriff looking more and more like a live tribute to the Hindenburg. He shuffled straight to Hawkins and began head-butting her calves.

‘Pleased to see our owner today, are we?’ She crouched to stroke his neck, hearing the zealous purr go up a notch. ‘Let’s go and see if Mummy brought home vacuum-packed mush.’

She scooped up her rescue cat and hauled him on to a shoulder. ‘Jeez. Are you sure you’re hungry?’

Her brow gathered at her unwitting use of a Mike-ism. She was about to collect the supermarket bag from beside the door when she froze, staring up at the landing. From where she had just heard a noise.

Her mind flashed to the car park, when she had walked away from the Alfa, sneering at the selfish arse who had taken Mike’s space. She hadn’t bothered to check if his Range Rover was in the visitor parking bays further along, not expecting him to be there.

Another quiet bang from upstairs.

Someone else was in the house.

Hawkins almost called out, the weight of probability telling her it had to be Mike. But something stopped her. She hadn’t been quiet since coming in, talking to Admiral Kirk at the foot of the stairs, and he always heard the door go if he was in first. Not to mention the fact he’d effectively moved out. Granted, that hadn’t been said in so many words, but things were awkward enough that he would have announced his presence if he’d been here.

And if it wasn’t Mike up there …

Immediately she thought of Mardell, and the group with whom Whiting said he was involved. Aaron and Amala had followed the man to his place of work, and he was still there, so it couldn’t be Mardell upstairs. But they had no idea if anyone else had been inside the house on Bride Street.

Or who he might have called.

Recent events suggested they might be dealing with extremists, people potentially willing to kill for their beliefs.