‘Bravo One has eyeball. Tango One seems to be looking for a parking space,’ said Smith into his mic. The Prius turned right. The car behind went straight on. The car directly in front of Smith indicated right, then braked suddenly. Smith was so busy watching the Prius that he didn’t see the stop lights go on and slammed into the back of the car.

Smith cursed. He backed up and was about to pass the car when the driver sprang out. He was a big man with tattooed arms and a diamond earring in his left ear. ‘What the fuck are yez playing at?’ growled the man, in a heavy Glaswegian accent.

‘Sorry, mate, my bad,’ said Smith.

He tried to move on but the man grabbed his handlebars. ‘Where the fuck do yez think yer going?’ he said. ‘You need to pay for the damage.’

Smith looked at the rear of the man’s car. It was pristine. ‘There’s no damage, mate,’ he said. He glanced at the Prius. It had moved on, still looking for somewhere to park. ‘Bravo One, I’m losing eyeball,’ he said.

‘What the fuck are yez talking about?’ said the man.

‘Bravo Two, can you get in there?’ asked Aspden, in Smith’s ear.

‘Bravo Two, heading into the car park.’

‘Mate, look, I’m sorry, I fucked up,’ said Smith.

The man pointed at the rear bumper. ‘A hundred quid,’ he said. ‘A hundred quid or I’m calling the cops.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘You hit my car. That’s an accident, right? So I’m due compensation.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I might even have whiplash coming on.’

‘Mate, my bike weighs a hundred kilos soaking wet. You weigh twice that.’

The man continued rubbing his neck. ‘Yeah, I’m getting a headache. I might need a scan.’

‘A fucking lobotomy is what you need,’ said Smith. He pulled out his wallet and fished out a hundred pounds. He thrust the notes into the man’s hand. ‘Happy now?’

‘Prick,’ said the man, pocketing the notes. He got back into the car as Smith drove away, looking frantically for the Prius.

Malik looked right and left. ‘I don’t see it,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘Where are they? Why aren’t they here?’ The Prius was crawling along at walking pace.

Assadi patted his leg. ‘Relax, brother, they will be here.’

‘I can’t see them.’ He banged his hands on the steering wheel. ‘Why aren’t they here? Maybe they’ve been arrested.’

‘No one has been arrested, brother,’ said Assadi.

‘I see them,’ said al-Kawthari. He pointed off to their left. A blue Transit van had been parked across two bays. ‘Flash your lights.’

The driver was Asian and when he saw the Prius’s lights flash he edged forward, then reversed back into one of the bays. The Prius reversed into the empty bay next to him.